RoL3: Dropping the Hatchet

I'll start today's post off with a sincere apology. I'm really sorry this blog has turned into All Rock of Love All The Time, but I can't help it. It's giving me a new lease on blogging. For a while I was a bit uninspired, but thanks to this beautiful disaster, I've gotten my groove back. And while I love making fun of Stank Ho Spears, Blohan and their ilk, I'm actually completely sick of their jackassery of late and prefer to focus on LOVE. What better way to achieve that vision than through RoL?

Before we begin, a related story. In the most surprising news of last week, gossipmongers have uncovered Brandi C.'s shocking porno past! I know, I couldn't believe it either. Check out the tantalizing teaser at the Pulitzer Prize-winning site Baby Got Boobs, which makes some pretty tall promises of its' two stars: "These two cock addicted [sic] whores got pounded really hard and in the end they both [sic] got their share of cum in their mouths and tits." (in more shocking news, that link is NSFW). Like, gross! But I guess it's good that Brandi isn't banking on being dialed into Bret's vast fortune and has something to fall back on (or onto, as it were). Sisters are doin' it for themselves! And everyone else!

Speaking of boobs, the great divide between the mean girls and the boring girls flourishes when Bret announces that they will be taking part in a four-team motocross race. The reasoning behind this is that Bret loves bikes and wants a chick who "can hang." Whatever. I say VH1 totally missed the opportunity to combine this challenge with last week's phone sex competition. They could have rigged up the helmets with little mikes and forced the girls to talk dirty to Bret while they drag race around a tretcherous dirt course. Come on, it's pure genius!

The skanks suit up and Magdalena pees herself when a helmet is pushed down on her head; she declares it the most embarrassing moment of her life. Aside from appearing on this show and competing for the love of Bret Michaels, of course. After a quick crash course (pun intended!) from two lesbians, everyone putters around the dirt path and it's obvious that some are going to fail this mission miserably. The race begins and, as usual, the wheel that talked the most shit (Hatchet Face) goes flat on the first lap. The others either fly around the course like junkie bats out of hell or casually putter about like they're on Jazzy mobility scooters at Disneyland or something. Then, finally, we have a serious accident when Dallas comically flies out of control and catapults off of the cycle, limbs flailing, and slams to the ground! Bret thinks she's dead; Hatchet Face giggles with glee. Foreshadowing! This bitch is seriously nuts, which we'll get to, and her wrath is ignited when her team loses. The four lucky winners—Sam, Magdalena, Rodeo and The Other Brandi—are rewarded with super-awesome Bret dates. The risk was worth it!

Back at the Whore House, the hags embark on an instigation bender, led by Dallas and Hatchet Face. See, Hatchet belongs to PETA (Pestering Everyone but Terroristic Anarchists) and takes offense to Dallas' fur love, however completely ignores any of the leather-n-fur fashion travesties that Bret commits on a daily basis, including the use of a shetland pony pelt on his head. But that doesn't matter right now because it's on! Dallas hilariously outfits herself in as much leather and (fake) fur skankwear as she can manage and parades around the house, while Hatchet puts on a PETA tee and gears up for one of the craziest displays of baiting I've seen since the third-grade playground. Hatchet creepily slithers around Dallas asking to see her cool leather clothes and voiceovers that she is trying to get Dallas to hit her. She corners Dallas on the stairs, which prompts Rodeo to fabulously closeline her and declare "I may be a Southern lady, but I manhandled that bitch." And I declare that the quote of the week! Try to use it in a sentence at some point tomorrow.

Date night starts up and Bret brings the romance by escourting the girls poolside and showing them a movie...about him. Later, he'll give the girls Poison CDs and maybe even let them give him a blow job. While Bret woos Sam and Magda, the idiocy inside Casa de Sífilis continues. Remember on Mork & Mindy when Jonathan Winters hatched out of an egg and was Mork and Mindy's giant baby? If I remember correctly, the explaination was that Orkians are born as full-grown adults who regress to infant-size seniors. Well, two eggs just hatched in the forms of Hatchet and Heather. These two continue their nogoodnik-ry back at the house by drawing mean pictures of the girls they don't like. The "Wall of Shame" includes depictions of Jes' sticky-out clavicle (spelled "clavical" by the brainiacs), and Brandi C. and Kristia as a two-headed, four-boobed slutasaurus. Wait, I thought these two were on the Mean Girls team? Did I miss something? And isn't this a blatant jab at Brandi's "handicap"? Why isn't anyone flying into a rage? So many questions that I really don't care about the answers to.

After a mind-expanding one-on-one between Bret and Kristia, it's elimination time. In a surprise twist, Kristia is eliminated! As the doctors congregate for high-risk Siamese twin separation surgery, Brandi C. simpers like a little girl that just accidentally let go of her balloon at the loss of her BFF. As fat tears drip down her cheeks on to her cum-soaked tits (they glow under blacklight!), Bret says that Hatchet's crazy is (surprise, surprise) a turn-on and Dallas is also given her walking papers. She responds with a two-gun flip-off salute—BAM! BAM!—and floats cooly out of the house. Bret bitches that he's pissed that she didn't thank him, and I'm not sure what he expects after she just jammed two middle fingers in his face. Hatchet Face, on the other hand, is positively giddy, and vows for the 716th time that she's going to continue "picking off these girls one by one until they're all gone." It then hits me that Hatchet is this season's New York. I sense a Hatchet dating show in our future. Maybe Flav can be one of the contestents.