CoTher 2.4-5: Gutterballs

She rolls on shomer Shabbos.

Yeah, yeah, I'm way behind. Leave me alone. I was busy keeping the X in Xmas. Happy new year, bee tee dubs!

Anyhoo, let's kick 2013 off right and get caught up on some "Couples Therapy" action! I'm going to count down the best parts of eps 4 and 5. You can thank me later:

1. Doug can't do partner yoga, cries and locks himself in the bathroom
In an effort to help the couples feel "connected," the therapists organize a morning partner yoga session for the gang. But one partner is conspicuously missing because of those pesky California child labor laws.

Doug half-heartedly attempts to do the yoga himself while everyone else is sitting back-to-back with their sweeties to "feel their warmth and their spine." Dammit! Doug is not feeling any warmth or spines so he untwists himself from Warrior 1 and stomps, pouting, into the house. "I can't be with her at night and I've reached my threshold," he cries. I'm guessing he then screams, "NOBODY UNDERSTANDS OUR LOVE!" and flails down the hall wailing and dramatically slams the bathroom door shut so he can privately sulk about his inability to participate in yoga.

Hater Shayne seems to think the problem isn't that Courtney can't be on camera for more than six hours a day: "You can't wear stripper shoes to yoga, so maybe she opted out." Maybe, Shayne, maybe. But Court is has special powers that enable her to incorporate transparent eight-inch platforms into every activity. Exhibit A:

2. Courtney Stodden doesn't have to wear ugly, stinking bowling shoes like everyone else.

In another attempt to encourage "bonding," the CoTher pairs are sent to the bowling alley. Court dresses for the occasion in the aforementioned plexiglass heels and the copper crotch cutters/lycra halter combo from the first episode. Bowling may by Courtney's worst nightmare, but it's a fantastic opportunity to make a gazillion titillating wisecracks about balls. 

"I don't know how to put my fingers in the ball!" Court squeals. "I'm a bowling virgin!"

Courtney "knocks [my] pins down every time," Doug announces.

"She knows how to work balls," Tiny side-eyes.

Despite her alleged lack of bowling prowess, Court rolls a strike on the first try (at least as editing would lead us to believe). It's the magic of the heels! But how she got away with wearing them instead of the rentable clown shoes everyone else is forced to wear remains a mystery.

3. Courtney still talks to her ex and can't reach things
When Dr. Jenn asks the couples to talk about trust in group, Court drops a bomb. Turns out she's still talking to her 21-year-old ex-boyfriend! WHATTTT???? I'm shocked. SHOCKED. Doug says he's going to bed sometimes and Courtney's phone is blowing up at all hours of the night. Once, he decided to put his foot down on these shenanigans, so he grabbed her phone and told Mr. 21-Year-Old to stop calling his wife, goddammit! Dr. Jenn encourages Courtney to stop trying to stir shit up to get him to tell her he cares. Fat chance, doc!

Despite his attempt at taking a share of the power in the relationship, the scales tipped back in Court's favor when she tries to get something from a not-really-all-that-high shelf. She grunts provocatively and whines that she can't reach so Doug gives her a helping hand:

Eight-inch heels did not help in this situation.

Scales, tipped.

4. This conversation:
Courtney (in the kitchen): Oh my god, there are fries in here! (picks up a wooden spoon) Can I smack your butt with this? (smacks Doug with spoon while he makes sexual sounds)
Doug: Did you get grease on my pants?

Courtney: No. You prima donna.

5. Dourtney

To honor his beloved, Doug scrawls a mural on his bedroom wall:

Is anyone else suddenly reminded of the rebus in Highlights magazine?

Also, they call each other "Dourtney." As in Doug and Courtney combined into one power name, a la Brangelina. It works, I think.

6. Courtney has saved many lives by just being herself

Dr. Jenn meets privately with the Power Couple and announces that she's implementing a dress code in Casa CoTher. Everyone has been complaining to here about Courtney's My Little Ho-ny "outfits" and it's distracting from therapy. Here's her reaction:

Mission accomplished, bitches!

She may have won this round, but the War of Unfairness rages on. So Court suddenly morphs into Elizabeth Cady Stanton and decides to take a stand for those who can't stand up for themselves: The Scantily Clad. She thinks it's wrong to change for others and that she has to speak out for what she believes in because she's a voice for those who want the right to wear postage stamp-sized minis and latex boob trays.

"I've saved many lives!" she implores.

Unfortunately, Dr. Jenn doesn't explore that claim further and instead drops the hammer: from this moment on, there will be no bare midriffs, no boobs hanging out and crotches are to be properly covered at all times...OR ELSE.

"I'm a free spirit!" Courtney complains. "I need to be free to express myself and be creative!" You tell 'em, girlfriend! It's time to really show them what you're made of (besides cotton candy, tanning bed residue and Hidden Fantasy™ by Britney Spears).

Next time: Elizabeth Cady Stanton protests by exposing her midriff and Dr. Jenn is not amused.

Photo stills courtesy of VH1

CoTher 2.3: My fair Courtney

"The rain in Spain falls mainly on the pl....
OMG, A POT-SMOKING SKUNK!"

Dr. Jenn says the first 48 hours of therapy are brutal. It's sort of like that show "The First 48." If you don't catch a killer within the first two days after a crime occurs, your chances of avenging the victim's death are cut in half. So, I guess that means if you don't fix relationships in that amount of time, well...hell's bells.

Two people we don't have to worry about are our favorite gruesome twosome, Doug Hutchinson and Courtney Stodden. Or do we? Today, Court is sporting an Afghan Hound blowout and her leather hotpants from the last episode. Doug tells her she looks beautiful and then promptly throws his back out. It's the perfect illustration of this episode's running theme: Courtney's skankwear and the aging Svengali with a slipped disc who loves it.

Group therapy starts out with a blergh when Dr. Jenn looks right at our happy couple and makes a comment about "using your wife as a sexual object to promote her career." Doug takes offense, but Judge Jenn asks him if it's not true that his family and friends have abandoned him, his work options have dried up and he is now in the business of Courtney. Is that NOT TRUE, Doug Hutchinson??

Court pouts and says nobody understands that she's actually a really sweet person with very strong Christian beliefs and that god made her just the way she is and he also made copper spandex disco crotch-cutters and matching boob slings so what's the big deal? 

Dr. Jenn suddenly morphs into Professor Henry Higgins and asks Court if she'd be willing to wear sweats, no makeup and regular flat shoes. "I want to be like that!" Courtney insists. "But I'm stubborn and I need help!" Now Courtney, Dr. Jenn promises that by the end of "Couples Therapy," you'll ride in a carriage to Buckingham Palace and if the royals think you a lady, you'll get a job in a shop! But if they think you a trampasaurus in sheep's clothing, you shall be banished to the lunchtime side stage at The Eager Beaver. It's going to be hard, because Court eats the attention up with a spoon and "sometimes [I] forget [I'm] married!" The comment shocks everyone, including Doug, and the facial expressions of surprise, disgust and confusion are priceless. 

Courtney is using her age as an excuse, but Tiny reminds her that she "made a grown-woman decision to get married." Tiny, we don't tolerate that kind of rationality and real-keeping in Courtneywood! But Dr. Jenn implores Court to listen to others' input whether she likes what they have to say or not.

Later, Nik and Doug have a sit-down, Tony Soprano-style, to work out their differences. But unlike Tony, the counselor/moderator allows both of them to keep their kneecaps and livelihoods. All seems to be going smoothly until Doug tries to tell Court what happened. Here's their conversation:

Courtney: Tell me what you talked about; tell me everything! 
Doug: That cat is a trip. 
Courtney: Meow! You are so cute! 
Doug: I think it was under the auspices of...
Courtney: So sorry to interrupt you, but it smells like a skunk out here. Anyways, I'm sorry; so what happened?
Doug: I think we accomplished what we're going to accomplish with this and I don't think he's going to hurl insults at you any more...
Courtney: I smell pot! The skunk is smoking pot!
Doug: You are so distracted. Anyway, he said his intention is to understand us more, which I don't think is the complete truth...
Courtney: (gasps) It's that skunk again! It's smoking pot!
Doug: I'm trying to share with you and you're not in the mood. You want to play.
Courtney: I'm just warning you that it's getting closer.

"She communicates in a 21st-century way," Doug rations. "She's a teenager." Why can't a woman be more like a man, Doug? WHY??? He tries to explain to Courtney that when he wants to tell her stuff, she gets distracted by bugs and puppies and unexpected breezes and IT HURTS HIS FEELINGS. Yeah, yeah, Doug, Court gets it, but how is she supposed to concentrate on your feelings when there are ravenous coyotes howling in the background? "Shoot a gun in the air!" Courtney screams. "I appreciate nature, but that's a part of nature I don't want to hear!"

While Courtney is busy shooting pool in a bikini (later she's going to wash Doug's car in slow motion), Doug joins Tiny on the patio and she expresses her concern about Courtney's appearance. "I'm more concerned about how she feels about herself to dress so inappropriately," she says."Those clothes are like, 'Hello, hoochie!'" God created those clothes, Tiny, GOD. Who are you to question the man upstairs?

Despite her blasphemy, Tiny's comments make Doug think. And he thinks the thoughts he had about Courtney's outfits are making him think more negatively than he previously thought. Uh oh, troubs in paradise! If these two could just work it out, wouldn't be lovely?

Next week: The boys of Courtney's past! 

CoTher 2.2: Dream a little dream of C

"No, really, tell me more about your weird
half-dream that didn't really happen."

Picture it: last Saturday night. RockitQueen: (who kind of looks like Angelina Jolie meets Joan Jett meets Angela Bassett meets Megan Fox...) lies in bed in that dream state that's halfway between sleep and awake where you feel like you're floating in a tunnel at the other end from reality. RockitKing: watching TV at about 4 a.m. RockitQueen vaguely hears a voice that sounds kind of like Courtney Stodden, a.k.a. the greatest thing to happen to pop culture since, well, Rock of Love. Can this be real? RockitQueen mumbles from her dream state "Zzzzzthazzz Courtzzzz Stoddezzzzzz?" Then from the other end of the dream tunnel, a male voice: "Oh my god, they just asked the skank if she was molested!" RockitQueen: "Izzzzzzz needzzzzz to blogzzzzz about thizzzzzzzzzz." Annnddddd...scene! (P.S. RockitKing swears this didn't actually happen, but I'm telling you it did! Or maybe it's the medication.) Anyhoo.

So here we are and I'm finally blogzzzzz about thizzzzzzzzzz. When we last left off, Doug Hutchinson had just told Nik Ritchie, "We're going down" unless Nik apologizes for calling Courtney trash. And when we pick up, nothing really happens. Boo! Nik says, "He's 51 years old and he's dating a girl in high school. Doug is mindfucked." Doug says he and Court Court hoped to come into a "safe, nonjudgemental environment," but that hope has gone down the toilet. Zzzzz... this is not exciting. What can I do to spice this up? Oh, I can tell you this: I was just informed today that Doug played one of the child rapists in the hit John Grisham adaptation (and the movie that made Matthew McConaughey a stahhh) A Time to Kill. Ironic! 

After that grinding start, shit starts getting a little more lively. There's a little bit of an issue with filming because, see, Courtney has to leave the house and go stay in a hotel because she's underage and there are all these annoying child labor laws in California so she can only film for 6.5 hours a day. This means our star-crossed lovers have to be apart for a good portion of the day. As Courtney boards the Holiday Inn Airport Shuttle (I don't know if that's really what it is, but let's pretend) and drives away, she and Doug both longingly reach out, desperate to not let go. Doug whispers,"I'll dream about you tonight!"

The next day, harsh, banal reality is about to set in as the couples file stoically into the first group therapy session.

Dr. Jenn comes into the session guns ablazin': everyone is required to reveal the lowest, darkest moment in their relationships. One couple says it was when wife announced, "I want a divorce." Another reveals it was when husband got out of the hospital after almost drinking himself to death. It's all very depressing and sad. Then, here's Courtney and Doug:

Britney, if you're reading this, THIS is
how you do extensions.

"We're at the store and Courtney gets a lot of attention and a guy came up and gave Courtney his phone number and Doug felt uncomfortable so later Doug gets all up in Courtney's face (as the kids these days say) and and raising his voice and Courtney calls Doug a 'very evil name' and that name was 'fat fuck' because Doug was very vulnerable and "self-concious about his shape" and Doug struggles because he's super-afraid he's going to lose Courtney because she gets this 'maelstrom of attention' and it's exhausting."

Whew. Dr. Jenn thinks the problem is Courtney's outfits and if they're going to "have peace" she's just going to have to knock it off with the Lycra spandex camel toe/nip bullshit. Here we go again with the Judgy Judgerton! Dr. Jenn, stop being all jel and shit!


After the group therapy fuckery, a new couple joins the house and it's rapper Too $hort and his girlfriend Monica. They met at a George Clinton concert (which is awesome) and they're having problems because Too $hort is a sex fiend (which blows). The two newbies show up as Courtney and Doug are telling everyone all about how Courtney was going to wear a bikini to their wedding, but she ended up going with a white mini that cost $15 at Rave or something (and the best supporting stars in this show are Nik Ritchie's facial expressions of disgust).

Courtney greets Too $hort and Monica by telling them she's a white girl and doesn't understand who they are because she was born in '94 and is the same age as Justin Bieber. And if that didn't make hell freeze over, this will: Too $hort is dumbfounded. It's a historic moment, kind of like the first episode of Rock of Love: Bus when Random Blonde #753 jabbed a test tube shot into the danger zone of Random Blonde #289 and even Bret was grossed out. Courtney tells $hort that her mom is Doug's age and her dad is two years younger. "I'm shocked," $hort says. "That literally shocked me." And then he gets all judgy on Court's minidress. "I know strippers who don't dress like that when they're not working," he chides. "I don't want to sit around and stare at children's boobies." Aaaaannnd...Too $hort officially has the quote of the ep. Congrats!

After a scene that is clearly trying to brainwash people into thinking our Court is a big dum dum (she can't tell the difference between a dishwasher and a garbage compactor), our favorite couple heads into their first individual therapy session. Dr. Jenn is already on the offensive, saying she's struggling about treating them and wondering if this is a predatory relationship or a legitimate one. More haterz! It's Doug and Court against the world.

Doug says he's truly in love and Courtney informs Dr. Jenn that when you look like her, physically, men follow you home and write to you. When you have that kind of attention, it's difficult to discern what's real and who just wants a piece of ass. Yuck, who wants all those letters? It's totally annoying when you have to read them and stuff. Well, anyway, Doug liked Courtney for the RIGHT reasons and she insists that she's the one who pushed him to get married. 

"Rocket science" is actually a colloquial
term for aerospace engineering—DUHHHHH!"

Now, here's where the dream tunnel picks up. Dr. Jenn tells Court that she presents in a "very hypersexual way" and that usually translates to "bad touch from Daddy." But Courtney says NO, she was not molested and she is just more comfortable putting the goods in the storefront window with giant spotlights, neon signs and a local high school band playing "Proud Mary" around it. So there!

Doug then opens his heart and talks about how his love with Courtney has torn his family apart. His mom sent back all the Mother's Day cards he sent over the years and his brother, with whom he had a close relationship, informed him that he's no longer welcome at family functions. "My family has become Courtney," he says sadly and Dr. Jenn concludes that this makes them feel like Romeo and Juliet and that's not good for healthy relationship development. And then they do trust falls with Dr. Jenn (not really, but let's pretend) and the session is over. 

It's soon dinnertime at Casa CoTher and everyone's pitching in. Courtney prances into the kitchen in a teeny red bikini and her ever-present stripper heels and starts cleaning the table. That's not a euphemism, but she does start pointing the bottle of cleaner at Nik and saying, "Where should I squirt this? Tell me where to squirt it!" She may as well have just stood up on the table and poured a bottle of Cristal over her head. Subtle she's not!

Shayne encourages Courtney to put on some clothes and she retreats to the bedroom to throw on a pair of leather booty shorts. Shayne is pissed, saying, "I don't want my man looking at that while he eats his potatoes!" and takes her food to eat somewhere else. The word respect is thrown around liberally. And the green-eyed monster rears its ugly head. Court munches away innocently on her meatloaf puree, Malt-O-Meal and zweiback (not really, but let's pretend) while everyone else stews around her.

This week's final scene really says it all: Courtney casually lounges by the pool in her red dinnertime bikini while everyone else smokes, gives each other side-eyes and broods. That's right, people...it's Courtney's world. And you just live in it.

Next week: "I'm never going to be ok with what you do." 12-step. "She needs to find her voice."   

Photo stills courtesy of VH1

Couples Therapy 2.1: Why can't you just let Courtney be great?

OK, as promised, I'm back to my roots of blogging a trashy VH1 reality show. But this time it's a little bit different. "Couples Therapy" is no "Rock of Love," for one thing (and what is, I ask you? What is?). And for another thing, I don't give two shits about anyone on this show except two people: Doug Hutchinson and Courtney Stodden.

I think I might have this framed.

That's Courtney (age 17, media ho) describing the love she feels for Doug (age 51, ac-toor). They are the Bogey and Bacall for the 20teens. The Hepburn and Tracey of the millennium. The Whitney and Bobby of the apocalypse (the world is still ending on December 21, right?).

We get a little glimpse into the dark pink underworld of this pair's marriage in the first few minutes of the show. "Upbeat rock music" (according to the closed captioning) plays as the stage is set. Doug laments that his wife gets so much attention that it's exhausting. They're shown taking a leisurely stroll around an outdoor shopping area with Doug sporting Ed-Hardy-midlife-crisis wear and a burglar's cap and Courtney decked out in a sidewalk-length evening gown with rhinestone belt and a slit up to her armpit. Courtney just throws her head back and laughs and laughs like a deranged jackal. "People disagree with our union because we have a con-to-ver-sal [sic] age gap!" she announces. Doug insists that he tries to get Courtney to cover up more than 2% of her body at any given time. They're then shown moving into the CoTher house and she's clad in see-through hooker heels that are as tall as Doug and some kind of gold and black lycra...outfit? I'm not sure. It might just be two wrist bands:

Jesus, Doug, what's with the outfit? Have some respect for yourself!

It's at this point in the show when we get to see just what makes Courtney Stodden truly magical: her music. Yes, she's a singer! And her first single, "Don't Put it on Me," is a scathing attack on the jelly-jells who hate her because she's beautiful (please, please, I am begging you to take the time to watch this):

She's on a boat with a pink dog, slurping down an 80-oz. Marga-blaster (virgin, of course) while you're just sitting in a broken lawn chair with a regular brown dog drinking from a beer hat. You suck and she rocks. Get used to it.

And if you thought that was the best thing you've seen all day, get a load of this (please, please I am begging you to take the time to watch this one, too, but BRACE YOURSELF. Also, probably NSFL—Not Safe for Life):

Take a moment to let that all sink in.

The accompanying screen text bitchily points out that on YouTube, this video has 429 likes and 687, 989 dislikes. People just don't get the art of a human being coughing up a hairball and using a litterbox. But people also didn't get Warhol.

Courtney needs this.

Speaking of litterboxes, Doug asks Courtney if she has to "go potty" and she says she has to "pee pee" and that she can carry her suitcase by herself because she's "like a strong Barbie doll." They're just a regular old married couple now, but they still wax nostalgic about how their love blossomed. Courtney was taking Doug's online acting workshop. Oh my god, can you imagine? Courtney wearing sexy librarian glasses, intently studying the "craft" on her pink laptop. Doug discussing method acting and how he insisted on playing a shapeshifter on "The X-Files" in the nude to really get into character (this is apparently real, and it totally creeped David Duchovny out). As they're innocently playing teacher and student, Cupid's arrow strikes. Picture all this through a Vaseline-smeared webcam lens. Sigh...dreamy!

When Doug went to visit Courtney for the first time, he proposed almost immediately. The rest is history...with her parents' consent, of course. (Interestingly, though, Courtney's dad doesn't give consent to appear on the show, as he's fuzzed out in the happy family portrait they show to illustrate this. And Doug's family has also disowned him.) 

Everywhere they turn, people just shit all over their love, and they have not found any kind of safe haven at Casa CoTher. Counselor Rachel Clark greets the pair and gives them a house tour. In the kitchen, she asks if they like to cook. "I'll lay on the counter and you can cook on my stomach!" Courtney squeals. Rachel says she's trying not to judge, but her face says it all: 

Don't put it on me, girl, don't!

Rach just doesn't get it.

OK, now I guess we have to move on to the other couples (or should I say, supporting characters) in the house. We have Shayne Lamas, daughter of Lorenzo Lamas (and granddaughter of femininity expert Arlene Dahl!!!), and Nik Richie from TheDirty.com (which, because I'm a terrible person, I kind of enjoy); Simon and Alex McCord from "The Real Housewives of New York City;" and singer JoJo and his totally adorable wife Tiny. 

All of these pairs are fighting, complaining and fretting over their futures. In the midst of all this turmoil, where are Doug and Courtney? Oh, here they are! They're still in the kitchen and Doug is throwing grapes for Courtney to catch in her cleavage! Here's their conversation:

Courtney: We're making a big mess in the mansion! (Picks up grape.) Here, eat this off the floor and show me you're a man.
Doug: No, honey, it's got hair on it.
Courtney: I'll eat it. (Eats hairy grape.)

Clearly, they are there as a model to others. How can people whose lives are falling apart not be inspired by these two? It's time for them to show the other couples in the house what a healthy, loving relationship looks like. But as they go out to greet everyone, the judgement begins. Shayne groans and asks Courtney, "What are you wearing, girlfriend?" Duh, Shayne! "I'm wearing my daily wear!" Court responds. "What are YOU wearing?" Courtney then informs everyone that she's not wearing underwear and Doug drools, "That's why I'm the luckiest man in the world!" 

Everyone appears horrified and Nik says Courtney is a starfucker who submits herself to TheDirty.com all the time. Shayne is clearly uncomfortable and Doug starts asking her if she's high, because "she sounds high." Then Nik calls Courtney the "trash all over the internet" and the fur starts flying. Doug and Nik get up in each other's faces, as the kids these days say, the word "motherfucker" is thrown around and soon, Doug and Courtney are run off by the mob of townspeople with their pitchforks, sort of like Frankenstein's monster if Frankenstein's monster wore a pewter halter and lucite stripper heels. Doug says they're like Bonnie and Clyde—it's them against the world. "Will you blow me?" Courtney says. "I mean blow ON me. I'm really hot."

At the first group therapy session, psycologist Dr. Jen Berman notes the animosity among the group (to paraphrase Tony Soprano, she must have finished at the top of her fucking class). There's talk about "being real" and "forming bonds" and Dr. Jen says she has a low tolerance for BS.

Doug, however, keeps spouting off how he thinks everyone sees him. "How can a child molester walk around and not be arrested?" he mocks, and demands an apology for the trash comment. "Under California rules, we're married, under god." Everyone groans and rolls their eyes. "We're falling into their trap and talking about them," Nik says. Amen, buddy. You think your marriage is bad? Your problems are just beginning: you have to compete with the great stars of the new golden age: Doug Hutchinson and Courtney Stodden! Why can't you just let them be great?

This season on "Couples Therapy:" Courtney gallivants; "I didn't believe in me;" Courtney wears a bikini to dinner; "there's a wedding tomorrow!"; Courtney in hot pants; "stop acting like a baby;" Courtney prances; "I love you so much!"; Courtney, Courtney, Courtney.

Oh, also: Doug has "Courtney" shaved into his hair:

Romantical!

Let's see if we can say the word "Courtney" more next time. Until then, bitches!

All screenshots from VH1. T-shirt pic from Noisebot.

Dave Navarro is officially dead to me

Kill me now.

I don't know why I've persisted in thinking that Dave Navarro has standards. He clearly doesn't, and hasn't for quite some time now. Consider the picture at left, for example. Also consider some of his other media-whore-ish offenses over the last few years:


• Hosted Rock Star: INXS, a reality show that sought to replace the late, great Michael Hutchence, one of the few natural born rock stars that ever lived
• Starred in another reality show with Carmen Electra
• Married Carmen Electra
• Got Carmen Electra's initials tattooed over his heart
• Announced his split from Carmen Electra
• Directed a porno
• Started a band with Billy Corgan, one of my least favorite people on the planet
• Posed nude for a PETA ad
• Contributed guitar tracks for Christina Aguilara and P. Diddy albums
• Hangs out with (and possibly dated) Daisy "Alexis Arquette" de la Hoya from Rock of Love


Pretty embarrassing all around. But none of those even compare to what Dave has done this time. Let me pull up a bucket really quickly before I type this because the vom is already rising. Now, brace yourself:


DAVE NAVARRO HAS BEEN HANGING OUT WITH, AND IS POSSIBLY SLEEPING WITH, TILA TEQUILA.


Let's just take a moment to let that sink in.


I will not post them here because I care too much about your health, but there are pictures floating around the interwebs of the two of them "canoodling" and of Tila leaving Dave's house in the wee hours of the night. Granted, they may have been shooting up together. And I could actually almost accept that.


It pains me to even mention a parasitic pubic louse like Tila Tequila on this blog. Why is she still around? She's stupid, skanky and crazy. Seriously. It was recently revealed, by Dr. Drew Pinsky's wife no less, that she failed the psych exam to be on the latest incarnation of Celebrity Rehab. Even Leif Garrett passed, if that tells you anything. Tila Tequila makes Carmen Electra look like Kate Middleton as far as class is concerned. 


The only explanation is drugs. Drugs are bad, kids. Take heed. 


P.S. It's actually a bad week for Jane's Addiction all around. Check this bullshit out:



I can't. I just can't.

Chicken or egg?

Great minds think alike. And if you believe that, then I should be the head of creative at VH1.

The greatest reality show producers on the planet and I both have inflicted Rock of Love girls where are they now recaps on an unsuspecting and uncaring world.

If you're so inclined, you can watch the whole damn VH1 special online. Warning: it contains copious amounts of Rikki Rachtman.

The rundown is pretty close to mine: drunk, stripping, babies, stripping, drunk, stripping, finding the inner self, stripping, Hustler, stripping blah blah. Lacey's singing is fucking horrible (although I totally commend her dog rescue endeavors), Mindy's living in Cinci and working on some kind of food fetish calendar, Rodeo is a darn sweetheart and Brandi C. is engaged to a Billie Joe Armstrong lookalike. As an added bonus, some of the bitches bash on Bret and trash him for being a big, fake ho. The saddest (and awesomest) quote comes from Squishy Barbie Doll Head: "He's a skank just like me."

Embarrassing confession: I totes want to hang out with ASHeather.

What the world needs now is Gunn, Tim Gunn

Time for a big fangirl post!

Tim Gunn recorded a video message for The Trevor Project, a nonprofit suicide prevention organization for LGBTQ youth, in which he tells bullied and lonely teens life will get better. He also drops the bombshell that he, at 17 and feeling desperate, tried to take his own life! Take a look:



Could this man be more awesome? I'm so glad he's become such a surprise breakout star. He embodies class, compassion and dignity. If the world was made up of Tim Gunns, there would be no such thing as terrorism alerts and Rock of Love.

Plus, Tim had the balls to call out Anna Wintor for acting like a psycho diva at a fashion show and refused to retract his statement when she lost her shit and demanded an apology. Love! I so wanna be Tim Gunn's fruit fly.

Holla atcha boy!

Where are the Rock of Love hobags now?

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13 biggest douchebags of 2009

Ah, the year-end list. If it isn't reduced to list format, it didn't happen in the last 12 months. Today, we're covering the biggest morons of 2009. It's hard to narrow it down...and it's also hard to not feel like I'm not helping to make folk heroes out of jerks. There's no such thing as bad publicity? Probably true. But I still wouldn't want the whole world to hate me.

13. John Mayer
If I used John Mayer's music as a guide, I'd probably view him along the lines of a James Blunt/Chris Martin-style purveyor of mush pablum. But I also know from the tabs that he's a manwhore who thinks Jennifer Aniston is the classiest broad on the face of the earth, and I know from Twitter that he thinks he's fucking hilarious. He posted "ad Tweets" on his account as some kind of brilliant social experiment. For example, one said "Guys, I just had an amazing soup by Campbell's, Steak and Potato. See all of the great varieties of hearty soups." Don't get this guy in a prank war with Kutcher...the Twitterverse might blow up.

12. Kanye West
WHY CAN'T THE PUBLIC LEAVE KANYE ALONE?????? C'MON...WHO AMONG US WOULDN'T LOVE TO GUZZLE A BOTTLE OF HENNESSY AND INTERRUPT A GOODY-GOODY POPSTRESS TO SING THE PRAISES OF BEYONCE?????? ROCKITQUEEN WOULD LOVE TO DO THAT!!!!! ROCKITQUEEN ALSO LOVES TO SPEAK IN THE THIRD PERSON AND TYPE IN ALL CAPS AND OVERUSE PUNCTUATION!!!!! WHY CAN'T Y'ALL JUST LET ROCKITQUEEN BE GREAT?????? OH WAIT, THIS IS ABOUT KANYE!!!! IMMA LET YOU FINISH, KANYE!!!!

11. Gwynnie
Because we can't have a list of douches without mentioning our old friend Wet Spinach, although I think someone over at GOOP shot her up with tranqs because the newsletter has been relatively tame of late.

10. Dov Charney
I really want to like this guy because he employs American Apparel clothing constructors at a decent, livable wage, provides good benefits and makes all the clothes in the U.S. However, his epic skeevery outshines any good deeds this clothing mogul has done. It's hard to decide what's worse: his crimes against his employees (he has countless sexual harassment suits against him and regularly fires workers he finds unattractive) or his crimes against fashion. This is the guy who tries to push gold spandex unitards, scrunchies and neon green disco shorts paired with legwarmers as hot looks. TODAY. Not in an Olivia Newton John video. Unacceptable on all counts.

9. Carrie Prejean
Carrie identifies herself as a godly person, talking the talk with the most pious of them. But when it comes to walking the walk, well, just take a look at the likes of Rush Limbaugh, Ted Haggard and 99.9% of Republicans to see where this is headed. It's not that she came out of the closet as a dissenter of same-sex marriage at the Miss Universe pageant—she's entitled to her opinion. But poor little Care-care believes she's being discriminated against for being conservative...because people disagree with her. And then it then all comes pouring out that not only did the pageant pay for her boob job, but she also made some naughty little solo fuck tapes for the benefit of her boyfriend. And she says Larry King is inappropriate...

8. Kirk Cameron/Ray Comfort (tie)
You may remember Kirk as Mike Seaver, best friend to Eddie and Boner on the '80s supersitcom Growing Pains. Or you may remember him as one of the most popular poster boys in such literary journals as Bop, The Big Bopper and Tiger Beat around 1986-87. And if you have no life (like me) you may also remember him switching bodies with Dudley Moore in the oft-forgotten teen classic Like Father, Like Son (also starring a post-Goonies, pre-Rudy Sean Astin as "Trigger"). And if you really have no life (like me), you may remember him in the horrible kid-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks-joins-snobby-college-debate-team romance Listen to Me, opposite Jami Gertz. You may also know that Kirk has gone on to become a smug psycho Christian. He and his protheliser-in-crime Ray Comfort recently visited college campuses to hand out copies of Darwin's Origin of Species with their own little intro about how Darwin was a nazi and, actually, goddidit. Let's see: brilliant naturalist with years of tireless research under his belt or star of the WB's Kirk!...who should we listen to? Here's a hint: it's not the one who calls a banana the "athiest's nightmare."

7. Kate Gosselin
Kate reminds me of my bipolar ex-boss. Big shudder. They're both obsessive-compulsive, have weird haircuts, fight incessantly with their lazy husbands, and have prissy, stupid faces. But Kate and her family have somehow become (in)famous, which means we have to hear "her side of the story" on every news outlet for every little issue from her money problems to her tummy tuck. All I can say is thank god I don't have to see ex-boss everywhere talking about this stuff.

6. Spiedi
Who are these people? And why are they constantly on magazine covers and on TV? Is there anyone out there that actually demands to see or read more on these two?

5. Octomom
If you ask me what annoys me the most about Nadya Suleman, I'm hard-pressed to choose just one thing (although the way she says "babies" is really close to the top). There are just so many other things to choose from. She uses herself as a human petri dish and uses student loan money and state handouts to fund it. Her own parents think she's a raving lunatic. She yells and screams at the help. She's got that weird Angelina Jolie obsession. The best part of the whole debacle so far was when the paps filmed her 2-year-old kid slapping her in the face and calling her a bitch. The whole world is with you, kid. The whole world is with you.

4. Everyone behind Megan Wants a Millionaire
Bleach blonde golddigging skank-slash-Rock of Love reject? Check.
Seventeen "millionaires" vying for the love of/chance to buy stuff for said skank? Check.
Background checkers to make sure none of the millionaires have the potential to marry a Vegas stripper mere days after meeting her, brutally kill her and pull all her teeth out so she won't be identified, stuff her in a suitcase and throw it in a trash bin, drive to Canada and hang himself on a coat rack in a no-tell motel? Oops!

3. The entire Heene family
Sadly, one of the iconic images of the year is of that giant flying Jiffy Pop bag sailing over Colorado. And that stupid balloon had more personality, brains and connection to reality than the family that built it.

2. Jon Gosselin
I actually had some sympathy for Jon at one point in my life. Kate is such a cunty shrew! But now, every time I see the latest paparazzi pic of Jon slouching around New York in a bedazzled Ed Hardy shirt (or is it Quacker Factory?), he looks more and more like a sagging globule of protoplasm with greasy spikes on top of it and I hate myself for having ever felt for him. Gawker Media recently named Joe Francis the biggest douchebag of the decade (and yay for them), but Jon is certainly in the running to win the award for fastest flunky-to-douche transformation of the last several years. It's like watching your dad going through a really uncomfortable midlife crisis. One that includes hanging out with fellow slimebag Michael Lohan.

1. Chris Brown
The only person who could beat out the Gosselin is someone who beat the tar out of pop princess Rihanna, which everyone got to see via that horrifying photo. If that wasn't enough to make him ass of the year, he then proceeds to go on a national TV tour in freaking bow ties and Mr. Rogers sweaters to practice his sad face and say he's sowwwy about "what went down." Hey, Chris, "what went down" is that you brutally beat your girlfriend (who by the way handled the tragic situation with a very mature sense of responsibility), yet somehow you seem to view yourself as the victim. Then, to dig your career grave to exactly six feet, you publicly call out Oprah the Great for not supporting you, sensitively referring to her dis as "a slap in the face". As of this posting Chris is on approximately appearance #12 on the Bow Tie Apology Tour, which he's on to promote his new album. Time to go away forever, fuckface. Thank you, and good-bye.

RoL 3.3-3.5: Make it stop

I've just about had it with RoL. I never thought I'd see the day, but this show is sucking my will to live. Bret is totally phoning it in, the skanks are the most disgusting bunch of festering boils ever to infect my television and I'm kind of worried about more important things right now. Like Rihanna. I'm totally worried about Rihanna. Do you think she's OK?

Anyway, the name of the show is bugging me, too. Couldn't they have come up with a better name than Rock of Love Bus? What about Rock of Love: Road Burn? Or Rock of Love: Skid Marks? Or why beat around the bush: Rock of Love: Sluts on Wheels?

So since we last left our (g)road crew, Porny, Brazil Nut and Random Blonde #57 (who wasn't "there for Bret") got voted off. Big whoop

The next ep starts off with Squishy Barbie Doll Face and Random Blonde #2 (or is it #8?) talking about Natasha, the one who said she wanted to be a madam on the first episode, and speculating on the size of Nat's peepee. They think she's a dude. I guess she's going to have to get bigger implants to convince these two that she's female. These chicks look like they got boob jobs from Octomom's doctor.

Meanwhile, Bret's riding in style on his personalized Bret Bus, complete with a giant bed, acoustic guitar for making hits and what look like cymbal lamps, and he's deep in thought. On the other RoLs, he was "hot and heavy" with some of the girls by this point in the season, but this time around things are moving too slow for his liking. So in true Bret fashion, he decides to get things cooking...by taking the skanks to Larry Flynt's Hustler Club.

All the Random Blondes go nuts. "I see all these poles and I'm like, I'm home!" one screams. "The lame skanks haven't been in a Hustler Club," another shrills. That may be true, Random Blonde, but the library is free and has far less bodily fluids on the walls (we hope).

OK, I thought they may have hit rock bottom on the challenges with the "marry Bret and write meaningful vows" contest, but this one is even dumber and more meaningless than that. Upon entering what appears to be the Champagne Room, Bret presents three frumpy chicks an announces that the skanks will have to divide into teams and make over a frump. The team that makes their nottie the hottest hottie wins a super-awesome Bret Date. That's right: it's a fucking makeover challenge.

Naturally, the skanks all start laughing at the frumps and my first thought is, you can totally tell that all three girls are strippers wearing glasses, sweats and no makeup. It's sort of like that stupid movie with Freddie Prinze Jr. where the chick is totally cute but because she is wearing glasses and overalls we're supposed to believe she's a nerd.

Anyway, here comes the Aqua Net and blue eye shadow. Brows are drawn on with Sharpies. Sweats are discarded in favor of skinny jeans. Hair is teased and fluffed to appropriate trashiness. When the girls come out, they actually look kind of cute. We have Jamie, who is about the size of a plastic cocktail sword and who earns Bret's approval for bralessness; Jenny, who looks a bit like the older sister on The Wonder Years; and Kami, who Squishy says looks like Rosie O'Donnell in makeup.

Well, good job, girls. Bret likes what he sees and he simply can't make a decision, so he's just going to take all three team captains on date And, oh, by the way, would Jamie, Jenny and Kami like to join the "tour" and compete for Bret's heart? Sure!

Wait a minute! Did I just hear a record-scratching sound? Here's the big ol' monkey wrench Bret was talking about! For some reason, some of the skanks start clapping at the news while others just look pissed. Squishy, for one, is not going to take this standing up, so she marches onto Bret's bus to lie down...and talk. Bret thinks this is a sign that Squishy cares and immediately starts gossiping about the other whores with her. Here's Squishy's chance to share her man theory about Natasha, and, boy, does she take it, adding that she thinks Nat wears tutus to hide her bulge. Bret is intrigued and makes out with Squishy. Meanwhile, she's got a Hello Kitty tattoo and he's wearing that ridiculous "American Outlaw" airbrushed cowboy hat again.

So now it's date time and Bret takes Mindy, Natasha and Random Blonde #37 on a riverboat! I'm kind of bummed that they didn't all get dressed up in riverboat attire, with Bret donning a fake handlebar moustache, Colonial Sanders string tie and garters on his sleeves. It would have helped add a bit of interest, because this is likely the most boring date in RoL history. He makes out extensively with Mindy and considers asking Nat about her alleged dick, but decides she must be a girl because she freaks out when a bug lands on her. I'm really starting to hate Bret.

And this confirms it. As soon as he returns from the date, Bret summons Squishy and invites her on his personal Bret Bus. He plays a bad power ballad for her on his acoustic guitar and tells her he likes her "in a really hot, sexy girlfriend way." Jesus Christ, what is this...study hall? Plus, it must be noted that Squishy is hideous and is wearing a trucker hat that says "Beautiful Disaster" on it. Bret starts swallowing her, then takes her to the back of the bus, where he probably put on his American Outlaw hat and then engaged in adult interaction with Squishy. You and I are not the only ones shuddering. Bev's there, too.

The next day, Bret takes the three new girls on a bowling date and this is officially the most boring RoL date ever, even though Bret thinks it's awesome.

Once they get back, though, something interesting happens. Bret hits the hotel gym for a little workout and Dimples decides to use it as a chance to get some alone time because she's "shy." As she says this she's saunters into the room wearing what is essentially a napkin used as a halter with another napkin used as a skirt. Bret calls it the best motivation to work out ever and asks her to "tell me stuff." At this point, you can practically hear the wind whistling through her empty head. Bret goads her to talk several more times, but she just sits there like a dead plant with pierced dimples, Sharpie brows and skank suit smiling in that way that people smile where they hear a joke they don't understand. After what seems like an eternity of awkwardness, she gets up to leave with her boob hanging out and interviews that she thinks the physical connection is there but "I'm concerned that the other...what's that called? Mental? Emotional?...like isn't." Bret scratches his balls.

It's elimination time and let's make it quick and easy like ripping off a Band-Aid: Nat the possible man gets the boot. Over and out. I can't take it anymore.

Next week: Nashville, Mud Bowl 3, boobs and possible sex. A beautiful disaster indeed.