RoL2: Don't need nothin' but the threat of a good time

Rock of Love is officially the greatest show ever in the history of the universe. It's so slutty! Guy readers, is it possible to become desensitized to the sight of big, plastic boobs? Because obviously it's not possible for Bret Michaels. I'm starting to have sympathy pains for some of these chicks. It must be hellishly uncomfortalble to hoist that shit up, parade it around and continually work the bounce factor for maximum Bret attention/camera time. But when it comes down to it, what would RoL be without them? Fuck it. Bring on the jugz!

Speaking of boobs, this ep begins predictably with Brandi C. grinding on the stripper pole with the appropriate frilly undies and ever-present vacant expression! The girls have kicked the morning off with some mimosas and an impromptu jam session. Bret hears the skank mating call of "Woooooooo!" from miles away (or the next room or whatever) and slinks in to join the shitty band o' hoes. Hey, ladies, let's get the party started! Woooooo! Hump that stripper pole, make out with your friends, straddle everyone (and everything) in sight, hook up the booze IV! It's just like the back of the bus on the Open Up & Say Ahh Tour of '88! But not everyone is in on the "fun." While Bret is getting punch drunk, courtesy of Dow Corning, the killjoys of the group are prissily sitting poolside, dirtypillows primly covered, judging the whores. Lacey, who I'm going to call "Hatchet Face" from now on, makes a half-assed attempt to befriend pink-haired Jes, and then tackles her into the pool and mocks her for getting pissed. It's on! The house is officially divided into the Sluts and the Bitches. If you want blood (and herpes), you got it!

The sluts are the first group to shine in a challenge. Their mission: give Bret a boner. Seriously. Since he's gonna be on the road, he needs a woman who can dirty talk him over the phone. Bret will even be wearing a "monitor" on his peepee to measure his arousal level! I'm giggling even as I type this. It's television at it's lowest...and best! As Bret (sans headgear and in a hilarious pair of flame-print PJs) explains the challenge, I excitedly realize that we are going to get to see these bimbos performing the most humiliating tasks ever cooked up for a reality TV show. I can't wait to see what's next!
• How Low Can You Go (where the girls compete to outcrazy the craziest groupies who do things like shit in a cat box at the bandmembers' command)
• Boob Weigh-In
• How Low Can You Go 2 (where a lineup of roadies ranging in attractiveness levels from Axl Rose to Shane McGowan are presented to the girls so Bret can see just how many each girl is willing to shag to get to Poison)
• Who's Fatter?
• The Spit-or-Swallow Relay
The possibilities are endless!

The "Talk Dirty to Me" Challenge (and please, please don't let all the challeges be named after Poison songs) is pretty hilarious. The Sluts, as a whole, were impressive with their potty-mouths (excepting our favorite drunk Tiffany who slurred "Don't threaten me with a good time" for the 80th time and was hung up on) and the weiner winners are Erin (who has the biggest, fakest boobs of all), Rodeo and Hatchet Face. The prize is to join Bret in the studio to sing on his latest recording. Don Was is there and Bret practically gives him a handjob (and while I realize Don is a hitmaker, don't forget that he's also the guy behind the legendary late-80s hit "Everybody Walk the Dinosaur") and the girls all get to dry hump Bret and lick the spit guard.

Back at the house the rejects are preparing some kind of slut retaliation because Erin "made fun of [Brandi C's] car accident." She actually called her "pretty, in the meth world", which I thought was kind of brilliant, and it gave Brandi the chance to simper to Bret about the rights of the handicapped and give him a good Frenching to bring her point home. Very effective. But the Sluts are determined to take Erin down for some reason. Heather the 32-Year-Old Stripper takes a stab at it by tattling that she overheard Erin saying she is getting married in May. Bret pretends to be pissed off while H32 jabs a pointy fingernail at Erin and delares that she "cares about this guy." The truth is that Erin was *supposed* to get married in May, but now is not; turns out the government-engineered H32YOS Killbot malfunctioned and got the message wrong. Oopsie!

After all the wet n' wild action, the elimination isn't terribly surprising, with Erin, Brandi C., H32 and Hatchet Face all spared. The biggest let-down is that we say goodbye to the klassy Miss Tiffany, which means no more threats of a good time. She will be missed. Also, Bret arrives for the elimination wearing a floor-length, cow-print trench and a wicker cowboy hat with "American Outlaw" airbrushed on it. Who needs a threat? This guy PROMISES a good time.

For the record, Metal Sludge's Donna Anderson reports that Bret's danger stick is "...about 7 inches or so, and I've also heard that Bret's skills are overrated." She also notes to potential fuckbuddies that "if you do hook up with him, chances are he'll keep his hat or bandana on." Gee, there's a big surprise. Do you think he'll wear his flame-print jammies, too?

Until next week, kiddies...this is fun!


sally said...

OMG I said the same thing about Don Was & his stoooopid dinosaur song! He sux!

Bret just sinks lower & lower into a swamp of VD goo each week, doesn't he?

Anonymous said...

So, are we talking hot Axl (Welcome to the Jungle, indeed) or Version 2.0? Because I have to tell you, Shane MacGowan would be a blast to hang out with and would really start looking better after fewer beers than a dreaklocked, veneered Mr. Rose.

Anonymous said...

I just realized I said "dreaklocked." Pardon. That does seem like it should be a name of a style though.