crushin it

Normally I like to write about things I hate.  And given that I'm a miserable curmudgeon who will prematurely be sitting on her porch sipping her vodka/prune juice and zealously guarding her trashcans from theft by the neighborhood's young hooligans, I usually have a constant stream of targets for my crazy rants.

But sometimes I go crazy and forget that I'm a misanthropic wench.  Sometimes I remember there are things that soothe my hate.  One of those things is my favorite new girl crush of the last year, dancer-turned-actress Heather Morris. 

She plays dimbulb blonde-with-bangs cheerleader Brittany on Glee, a show whose return to tv tomorrow night I am ridiculously joyfully anticipating. 

Much as I don't want this blog to turn into a standard celebrity-fellating forum like Perez Hilton's, my love for Heather must be acknowledged.  She was cast after originally contracting with the show just to teach the other actors the Beyonce Single Ladies dance for an episode in the fall.  Prior to Glee she was a Beyonce backup dancer, so I have to give her due respect for having tolerated working so closely with the slooooooowww ttaaaalllking Sasha 'Short Bus' Fierce.

Heather is sort of difficult to stalk online, as WASPs with really common white-chick names (is there more archetypal a white-chick name than 'Heather?'  Maybe 'Amber?') and one tv show to their credit do tend to be.

But she does have a fair fansite, complete with amazing dance videos, at http://heather-morris.com/, which I can safely presume was set up by either a pimply pre-teen girl or a lonely obese middle-aged male virgin from his/her parents' basement.