Man Code - The Real Star of the Bachelorette

I've been involved in my own drama so I've been slightly late to bring you my recap of Bachelorette but it's here now so calm the fuck down. This week's episode really brought something to light: All great drama has a heroes' arc in which the protagonist(s) have a want and a need. Even if the want isn’t fulfilled, the need must be, in order to complete the arc. The Bachelorette totally satisfies this: Even if these bronzed and hairless suitors don’t get their supposed want (Jillian) they are almost certain to reach their need, a meth fueled pool party at Adam Lambert’s place and isn't that what reality shows are all about?

In the interest of time, I think it's best to skip every moment of the show which we all know included lobotomy inducing soundbites from Jillian such as "I'm looking for my best friend" "I am ready to fall in love" "I'm excited about taking this journey" "I'm NOT a stalker" "I'm so over Jason. I don't know why he thinks I call him and hang up. Because I don't. Okay, one time but it was an accident because I forgot to take him off my speed dial." Sadly she also constantly reminds us that she's "not the most beautiful...but" and, um, hi, we have eyes. You are very attractive. Any guy in Oregon would go out of their tree for you. But sadly, this is LA and you are dealing with actors. So in that respect, you're right. They are looking for a blonde to bone for a few weeks and not a lifetime partner who rates a man by his hotdog topping.

Let's just get to the main parts of the show:

Jillian went on a date with Wes - the obvious fame fucker who wants a record deal so bad he can taste it on Jillian's sweet lips. This guy has slightly less charisma than a peanut butter sandwich and isn't very smart - he's like a Garth Brooks for the mentally impaired. He's just excited that he rhymed Hair Gel with Nice Smell on his song he wrote for Jilly. None of this stops Jillian from wanting to make out with him. Needless to say, he gets a rose.

Next Jillian has a date with Jake the pilot, a man so spontaneous I have a feeling he irons his underwear and combs his pubic hair. They have a typical date where surprise, surprise Martina McBride busts out of nowhere to serenade them. Jake makes a comment about "dancing with his soulmate" which sent me to the bathroom to retch. Apparently the combo of Martina and Jilly got him so riled up, he needed 3 glasses of milk to cool down. Having been alone with her a total of two times, he proclaims that he can’t wait to be the one slipping the ring onto her finger. Something tells me there are a handful of restraining orders still in effect against this guy across the Christian Aviation community. And yes, he gets a rose.

But the best part was watching some of the male bonding going on where we really got to see Trucker Dave's personality shine. The guys all decide to do a shot of tequila and according to David (although it's almost impossible to tell even after running it back twice on TiVo), Juan (who is admittedly cloying but so far harmless) throws his shot into a nearby bush. This incenses David and he doesn't hold back later. "That fucking guy didn't even do the shot! He tossed it out. We need to tie him to a tree and beat the shit out of him." To which another guy looks appropriately appalled and says, "tie him to a tree?" to which David responds to the guy as if he is some kind of paste eating idiot, "YEAH, TIE HIM TO A TREE. MAN CODE!"

Personally I haven't heard of this particular "man code" at least since the civil war and by the weirded out looks on the other wannabees' faces neither had they. We didn't see any furthur explanation because ABC sent the rest of David’s interview bites to 20/20 for use in their investigation of a multi-state killing spree.

But, luckily for you, Reality Road kill has exclusively obtained some outtakes:

"At the hotel, Juan told a producer what the tip on the drink bill should be – What kind of pussy knows math? I can’t wait to slice his Achilles tendons in his sleep tonight:Man code!”

“I saw Juan’s speed stick deodorant on the counter and it isn’t even Sport scent. That queer stays dry with F*@king Arctic Pine. I’m so gonna track down his father’s grave and crap on the bones: Man code!”

“If Jilly doesn’t pick me I’m totally gonna rape her headless corpse: Man Code.”

Obviously no one could follow Angry Trucker David's insanity but Brian, the nerdy guy gives it old frat guy try by jumping into the pool completely naked. To his suprise, Jillian is shocked but not in a good way.

Later Jillian agonizes over her decision and thoughtfully chooses:

Kipton (who we have to hope makes it to the hometown dates so we can see what kind of parents name their kid Kipton), Angry Trucker Dave, Tanner the Foot Fetishist, Jesse, Ed, Sasha, Mark, Michael, Tanner P, Reid, Robby, Brad.

So the Brit is sent home and the streaker, Julien and Mathue, who actually cries.

According to the tease, next week's episode is a can't miss: "Next week: the blood flows as David soaks the house in the biggest orgy of revenge kills in Bachelorette History!"

The Premiere That Sucked My Will to Live

Um, people?  Hi. I thought we were friends.  Remember when on or about May 18 I asked if I should watch this season of "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" and cover it on this blog?  Ring a bell, does it? Well, it wasn't meant as a rhetorical question.  And nobody, not one person, had the common decency to scream "For the love of everything holy, stick a fork in your eye, throw your television set out the window, check yourself into rehab where they don't allow tv, but for the love of God, DO NOT WATCH JON AND KATE PLUS EIGHT!!!!"  

No, instead I received comments on my (admittedly brilliant) poetry -- even a poetry submission -- and other random thoughts, but no dire warning as though my life depended on it. Which it might.   I'm still considering offing myself just for having watched.

That said, allow me to summarize. Because if I have to suffer, you have to suffer. Fair enough?

• Jon and Kate don't know where their marriage is headed.  Jon looks like he's been run over by a truck -- back and forth and back and forth -- until he's barely conscious. That truck's name is Kate.
• He said the future of their marriage is between him and Kate. Well, Jon, and Today Show fans, People magazine readers, the Larry King audience and the gluttons for punishment that are the TLC viewership.
• Jon didn't ask for all this. He just wants a private life. He didn't sign up for this. Err, well, fella, you DID sign up for it.  Literally. Take a gander at your TLC contract. Oh, you know the one. The one where you get $75,000 PER EPISODE and the reason your wife can sell a shitload of books and charge for speaking engagements. The same one that lets you live in a $1 million-plus home and get hair plugs.  Oh, so feel free to go back to being an IT Help Desk schlep making $30k in Podunk, Pennsylvania and see if you remember that the grass over there is pretty well the opposite of green when you un-jam your fourth printer by 10:00 am for a bunch of helpless morons. 
• Kate doesn't know who Jon is anymore.  This isn't the man she married. And I don't think she's talking about the whiter chompers and new hairline.  No, he's changed.  So times are tough, but hey, at least her family is standing behind her. Or not.   Only click on that link if you are prepared to blow your brains out after watching Kate's brother and sister-in-law describe how money is the motivation behind the whole show as they get paid to comment on how money is the motivation behind the whole show.  But they are speaking out because of the CHILDREN! My God, the CHILDREN!   There should be laws regarding exploiting children on reality tv.  And perhaps laws on relatives popping out of their trailers with their hands out.
• Okay, then we see the mother lode of all fifth birthday parties.  Poor Kate had to plan it all by herself (which is why we see several assistants buzzing about as she barks orders.) Editing, people, editing! If we are going to discuss ad nauseam how we had no help, PLEASE DON'T SHOW THE HELP.
• TLC producers, was it necessary to spend an hour showing the birthday party? We know what happens at birthday parties. Kids eat cake, jump around, open presents and are generally annoying. If I wanted to witness an entire children's  birthday party, I'd go to one of a child I actually know rather than lying and telling the parents I'll be out of town.  The only saving grace is we only had to endure one rendition of Happy Birthday instead of the six rounds (one for each kid!) that Kate insisted on.
• My favorite scene, and by "favorite" I mean I was least likely to hang myself, was when Kate is driving all eight kids to the party store to get decorations for the party. They pull into the parking lot and Kate says, "Hurry the paparazzi are after us!" to which one child asks "What's a paparazzi?" Flash to a confessional of Kate on the couch lamenting that her life is such that her children know at age 5 what paparazzi are. BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT IT UP DUMB ASS. And I bet you anything she's the type who called ahead to tell the tabloids where to be and when. Because normal moms don't get all gussied up before running to the store with a gaggle of children.
• Now, here's the surprising part. I don't totally hate Kate.  I think she has "Former Fat Girl Syndrome," a medically recognized form of  mental illness.  Kate went from looking like she worked the midnight shift at Waffle House to a poor-man's Posh Spice. I mean, wouldn't you maybe cop an attitude too?  Now she thinks she deserves a poor man's David Beckham instead of a wimpy guy with advanced male pattern baldness.  And I don't hate Jon either. He's married to a blond barracuda if barracudas had access to an underwater barber shop outfitted with a chain saw.

But I think the uplifting thing about reality tv is we learn a lesson. Like on The Bachelor franchise, the lesson is always seemingly "Don't f@#$ in a hot tub with cameras rolling."  And for Jon and Kate Plus Eight, I think it is such:

Don't constantly berate your mate

With no attempts to placate.

Because sooner or later he'll

Find another soul mate

Or simply fornicate with a gal who's 28

And your assets will be divided by probate.

Oh, please. You didn't really think I would make good on my promise to stop the rhyming did you? BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Suckers.  

PS -- The good news is I think I'm out of rhyming options. The bad news is I may take up a foreign language so I can continue the poems.

DTWS Finale: You Can't Strike Gold Twice...

Or can you? That's a big hint people. But I'm going to keep you in suspense. You know why? Because I had to sit through an unnecessarily drawn-out two-hour finale. So you can wait a few goddamn minutes, okay?

Before we get to the big news of who won (Don't pee your pants in anticipation!) allow me to update you on former DWTS contestant and current freak-of-nature Lisa Rinna.  Some publisher who is apparently on acid, is publishing a book of beauty tips by Lisa. I think that bears repeating. A book. About beauty. By Lisa Rinna. It's called Rinnavation. Get it??? BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!  I'd sooner read a book by Naomi Campbell on anger management. One by Amy Winehouse on sobriety. Or Britney Spears on parenting.  Lisa and her husband Harry Hamlin -- who obviously has been lobotomized against his will -- are also going to star in a reality show (dear God do actors no longer act?) that Lisa compares to "I Love Lucy." You know, the acclaimed, endearing, hilarious comedy starring Lucille Ball, with whom Lisa has nothing in common. It's called (are you positioned near a toilet?) "I Love Lisa." Here's hoping Desi Arnez Jr. is litigious in nature.

That said, all the former contestants of the season returned. Do you know what that means? CHUCK WICKS WAS BACK.  People, if you are an atheist, with all due respect, I beg to differ.  But this walk down memory lane also meant Belinda Carlisle returned, looking like an orange-tinted transvestite impersonating Priscilla Presley.

Then, in a move specifically designed to give me a heart attack, they announced that co-host Samantha Harris will be heading to Broadway to play Roxie Hart in the play Chicago.  I've met pencil erasers with more pizazz. If this woman pulls off Roxie Hart then she deserves a Tony Award or whatever accolade they give to freaky stage actors.  Sam, darling, light of my life, Roxie Hart is Caucasian. Which unfortunately means you'll have to lay off the spray tan. 

Okay, so a thing called Lady Gaga performed. I've never heard of it before but I think that's because it just got off the Starship Enterprise.  In another TIVO fast forward moment, we learned who will be the next pro dancer on DWTS, the blond chick. Whatevs.

Also a comedian "roasted" the contestants.  Example: "This should be called Dancing with the Vaguely Familiar." yuk yuk yuk.  None of the roast-ees looked overly amused.  The jester left out a few people -- no jokes about Denise Richards (an "it's not Complicated" joke could have written itself) or David Alan Grier or Chuck Wicks (which, I mean, what could you possibly roast about perfection?)

Do you see what I'm doing here? I'm trying to stall like ABC did. Unfortunately Reality Roadkill's advertisers, of which we have none, are not paying me a gazillion dollars per second to do so. So without further adieu: The Olympic-winning whippersnapper munchkin prevailed. Despite his Frenchness, it really should have been Gilles.  So, Gilles, to you I say: "Ecoutez-vous de la centre du plonge."  Which means "Go to the scuba diving shop."  (I'm running out of shit I know how to say in French, okay???)

So DWTS, I look forward to seeing the cast of "stars" for next season. My friend's sister's cousin once stood outside Studio 1B at Rockefeller Plaza and was briefly caught on camera lingering outside the Today Show. She's probably available. Here's hoping Sam breaks a leg on Broadway. I'll let you interpret in what way I mean that.

The Bachelorette - Meet the Meatheads!

It's here; the Bachelorette and her limo full of man/boys is upon us bringing with it the promise of romantic helicoptor rides, a whole lotta hot tubbin', more earnestness than could fill a Hallmark store, a bit more hot tubbin', romantic dinners for two (while being serenaded by someone whose new album is about to drop) and tons and tons of major douchery!

The douchery was front and center in the season opener of last night. First we got to see Jillian getting jilted on last season's Batch. Look, she's no Melissa, but she's fine. She's the sort of person where if your friend invites you to lunch and you're really looking forward to laughing with her, but you arrive at the restaurant and realize that she brought her friend from out of town (Canada). It doesn't ruin anything cause she's certainly sweet but she's not going to make you pee your pants laughing. Luckily for Jillian, boys don't really care about laughing, they care about "a great girl" and according one potential mate named Tanner: feet "bad feet are a deal breaker. She needs to have high arches and polished toes. Flat arches -NO WAY." Later, Tanner makes sure that Jillian removes her shoes so he can assess her feet with a very date-rapey look on his face and in return for his blatent perviness, Jillian ends up giving him a rose. So romantic.

First we meet a few of the guys we assume we'll be seeing much more of later:

There's Wes, a country singer who we know is a country singer because he is sitting on a window ledge pickin' out a country song on his gee-tar. Is there any chance he's not a douche? Um, no chance. Apparently, according to Wes, he has had a number one song in Chihauhau, Mexico (not kidding) and he was given the nickname "Rooster." By whom, we are left to mull over. Was it by the Mexicans who love his music and think Rooster is a compliment? Did they really mean "cock" and he misunderstood?

Bilbro (his own self given nickname) is so douchy he had to be built in a lab from other douchebags. He calls himself a "fitness model" which is ABC speak for gay porn, and spends most of his roll-in package oiling himself down. I would've killed for this guy to get picked but strangely we see little of him for the rest of the show.

A cute one named Juan is from Equador but relocated in LA when he was two. He's hot, Latin and loves his mom. I see a stint on Dancing With the Stars in his future.

Jake is an airline pilot who clearly still masturbates to "Top Gun." There's something not right about him so obviously, he's in.

Michael is a Breakdancing instructor. Where did the producers find him, 1987? Is there really still a call for Breakdancing instructors? Didn't breakdancing officially come to a close after Breakdancing 2: Electric Bugaloo? People, we're in a recession. Update your resumes. Jesus.

Then there's Steve, a lawyer who never for his three minutes of tape lets you forget that he's a lawyer. There are shots of him reading the paper in a very self important lawyerly fashion, talking about his schooling and other douchery.

There's Sasha and oil and gas consultant who is very close to his Serbian family who seem like a total nightmare. His mother is a busy body and the rest of his family are into folk dancing which they do for the camera. It's sort of like being a bar mitzvah and watching the Hora but with a lot more dust because they are outside.

We also got a sneak peek at David, a trucking contractor by day, bronzing legend by night. This guy is so tan he makes the Latin guy look like an albino. David, step away from the spray tan. Trust me on this.

So then everyone pulls up in the limo and it's a blur of suits and ties and close cropped hair and too white smiles and we're off to the cocktail party so Jillian can meet and greet and get her toes leered at.

While we're there we meet Simon a Brit who ABC feels the need to subtitle everything he says. Um, hi, ABC? Just because Simon has a British accent, he's still speaking English. How fucking stupid do you think Americans are? Jillian says over and over that she's here to meet her soulmate and have a family blah blah blah (always an aphrodisiac to men) and self deprecatingly says she knows she's not the greatest looking, but she's got a lot of love to give. I kind of like her for this but seriously, she's extremely attractive, a size zero and needs to own it a little.

In case you were falling asleep at this point which I was, ABC has a surprise! Five more guys! Oh no! Now who will she choose? There are already 25 forgetable guys but five more? HELP. We never really find out anything about them but Jillian gives the first impression rose to Bronzy Trucking dude. Moving on the rose ceremony:

Jillian picks:

Jake, the pilot
Jesse, a wine dude
Wes "rooster cock" (who made sure to serenade her during the party lest he not get chosen and risk not getting enough exposure in show one)
Matthew, a personal trainer -which in LA means actor
Michael, Electric Bugaloo
Robert (might have been too many glasses of wine in to remember him)
Ed (see Robert)
Reed (see Robert and Ed)
Simon the Brit
Kipton - a surfer who is also a Catsup on his hotdog guy. I'd been praying we wouldn't have to hear more on the hotdog theory but, alas, we do.
Mike (see Ed, Rober and Reed)
Brian B. No idea who he is
Sasha the oil and gas consultant
Tanner, the foot fetishist
Julian who we briefly met at the party and seems like an asswipe
Mark, a pizza maker who asked Jillian earlier what she likes on her pizza because he apparently has the same theory about pizza toppings that Jillian does about hotdogs. Jillian says she likes pepperoni, green peppers and anchovies. Mark is completely stumped. Mark, here's a suggestion: make some shit up!! Don't just stand there like an idiot. But what the hell do I know, she picked him.
Brad (see Brian B.)
Tanner - a different Tanner than foot fetish Tanner because we need all the confusion we can get

"Gentlemen, it's time for the final rose" and then my heart starts beating a little fast because um... is she not going to pick Juan? Do I have a chance with him? I so want him...

Juan.

In the exit interview Steve, the lawyer, who didn't get picked muses that "maybe she doesn't like 'awesome guys'" Maybe, Steve. Maybe.

The scenes from upcoming episodes make it seem like "a lot of people aren't here for the right reasons!!!" "One or two of the guys MIGHT HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!" "Jillian does NOT want to get her heart broken"

And I can't wait for next week! Bring it!

DWTS Finale Tonight: Zzzzzzz

My attention was piqued most of this season of Dancing With the Stars mainly because I wanted to do the cha-cha, so to speak, with Chuck Wicks. After he left, I tried my best to want to do the rumba, so to speak, with Ty Murray, but I couldn't really muster my full enthusiasm. (Although, let's face it, I've done the boot-scootin' boogie with worse...) But here's the thing:  It usually doesn't take me wanting to sleep with one of the contestants to get obsessed with a reality television show. 

So what's missing here? Last night, as I was bored senseless watching the three finalists do their free-style routines, it came to me.  An "a-ha moment" as Queen Opes would say. DWTS is too nice. Too dignified.  There are no teary limo rides home. No ripping the other contestants a new one in the board room. No liquored-up hot tub scenes bordering on the pornographic. No DRAMA.  

I mean, how much more entertaining would this show be if, say, when L'il Kim was voted off she was slightly hammered, slurring expletives and screaming things like "Everyone knows honkies can't f#@!ing dance!" as she charged the judges' table. And then in the limo home she's drinking vodka straight from the bottle making partially bleeped-out racial allegations against ABC for getting rid of her, David Alan Grier and Lawrence Taylor before the semi-finals.  And then she starts rapping the words to one of her X-rated songs with her head popped out of the sun roof as she whips empty beer cans at startled pedestrians.  Then, my friends, I wouldn't need fleeting sexual attractions to keep me interested.

Alas, no. Tonight the losers will be just as gracious as L'il Kim was when she left. And we'll see if the champion will be Melissa Rycroft, whose two front teeth are unnervingly large.  Or Shawn Johnson, who somehow hasn't benefited from the increased caloric expenditures of dancing 12 hours per day. Or Gilles Marini, whom I suspect compensates with brawn for deficiencies in other areas if you know what I mean.

Shawn and Gilles are tied for the lead per the judges' scores. But it's anyone's game. It really depends on who votes.  I just know I won't be one of them.

Jon and Kate: Oh How I Hate!

Now Kate has a new mate. That's the news as of late. Her bodyguard -- it's fate!  I bet Jon's irate. Can't they just start a clean slate?  They must think of their eight!  Or is this just publicity bait?

Really, I'm better at haiku so it's too bad the name of the show isn't:

Jon and Kate are wed

They have sex with other freaks

Someone shoot them both.

I'm not sure this is what the Japanese had in mind with their 5-7-5 poetry model but it's the best I can do on short notice.

I, for one, am happy Kate is dealing with her marital problems "privately" as she told the Today Show when the scandal first broke. Because nothing screams "private" like the cover of People magazine. The new season starts Monday, May 25 on TLC if you're into that sort of thing. Which I am. You know why? Because I'm the biggest loser. See? That joke works across the entire spectrum of reality television.  (Well, clearly it doesn't but plagiarizing Reality TV Killer's stuff is all I got right now, people. Back off.)

So do I torture myself -- and all of you -- by actually watching this show?  It would certainly give me a good excuse to drink on a Monday night. One can't be expected to watch a show featuring eight offspring, a wimp and a holy-crap haircut sober can one?  If so, I promise to stop the rhyming.  Can't wait -- it'll be great!   (Okay, now I'm done. I mean it this time.)

The Fashion Show: Tinsleys and Tulle

This was week two of Bravo’s The Fashion Show. Or, as I like to call it, The Fashion Show That Makes You Long For Tim Gunn Like You’ve Never Longed For Anything Before In Your Whole Pathetic Life, You Miserable Wanker Who Needs To Get A Life And Stop Drunk-Dialing The Parsons School of Design Before They Issue Another Restraining Order, Got It, You 40-Year-Old Jackass?

Where was I?

But, in all honestly, I'm so not digging TFS as much as I hoped I would, which is a little surprising. After all, it’s got most of the same elements as Project Runway and I do like Isaac Mizrahi and Kelly Rowland. But, maybe it’s like how someone might be the best Elvis impersonator on the whole damn planet, but at the end of the day, he’s still just a pale imitation of the original and instead of going home to Graceland after the show, he drives a ’78 Chevette back to the skeevy part of Pahrump, Nevada. Maybe that's it.

So: This week starts off with the Harper’s Bazaar mini-challenge, which was to take a trunk full of stuff and separate the “bargains” from the “big ticket” items. The designers were all very cocky about this, including Marcus, a preppy, nervous guy who was actually smelling the purses to determine which one was real “leathah.” But then, the team that everyone is now calling the “Little Person” team--Merlin the Honduran, Long Duck Dong (John-Paul), Angel and Lidia the Russian—got it right on their first try, which led to much celebrating by the under five footers. It was like watching a bunch of excited toddlers at a tacky Gymboree party.

Next, Isaac and Kelly move on to the BIG CHALLENGE and trot in Special Guest Judge--Tinsley Mortimer! Who? Well, for those of you not on the social register, Tinsley is an important, blonde NYC socialite who talks like she has a tennis ball under her chin. And she’s in dire need for outfits for all of the special events she’s been invited to next week—art gallery opening, ladies luncheon, charity ball and backstage at a rock concert. (Also, as we’ll see later, Tinsley is married to Topper and I think they have triplets named Tango, Tapdance and Temecula.)

The teams are each given $40 to create their outfits, which leads to the typical sewing/fighting montages and makes me wonder if the ladies in The Gap’s sweatshop in the Philippines have this many catfights over red tulle and pleated darts. "Geeve me dat tred, Marcellina, or I will cut you oop! I'm totaleey stressing ovah dees cargo pahnts!"

Finally, it’s time for the big, fashion show that will be watched by important industry insiders. I’m so nervous! First down the catwalk is Long Duck Dong’s team, who have created their looks based on John-Paul’s inspiration of “stealth fighters.” What jet airplanes have to do with Tinkley Mossimo drinking cosmos at the Met, I have no fucking clue. Anyway, the outfits don’t look so bad despite the stupid theme.

Next up is Anna’s team, and they’ve utilized pretty blues and grays in their looks. Nothing earth-shattering, but still, nice stuff.

Finally, it’s Team Haven. Haven is a youngish blonde who keeps repeating that she’s, “Like, SO into Linda Evans right now.” And that makes me sad for her because she’s probably only ever watched “Dynasty” on the Youtube. Poor, poor 25-year-old Haven. Anyway, Haven’s models trot out in some rather odd looks, specifically Marcus’, which appears to be an unwrapped Huggie covered in Vaseline, Laura’s, which is some red tulle monstrosity that looks like it should be atop a circus pony and also Samurai Johnny’s, a skirt that Isaac is HORRIFIED to see is held together with safety pins. Safety pins! Sacre bleu, Samurai Johnny!

Now the judging begins. Anna’s team wins, with morose Daniella winning the top prize for her “backstage at a rock concert” look of a short, black jumper with a diaphanous jacket. Now, Tingley Morticia loves it, but between you and me, she’s kind of wasting her time with this outfit because, as everyone knows, the best way to look when you’re “backstage at a rock concert” is naked, desperate and begging a roadie to find your friends “Neal and Bob” for you. Or at least that's what I wear to Ozzfest every summer.

OK, elimination time: No surprise, but Samurai Johnny, Laura and Marcus are called to the carpet. Marcus is practically shvitzing all over himself because he loves Tipsy Maxima so much, oh my god! and is given a reprieve. Whew. Then Samurai Johnny throws a little shit fit about how he doesn’t need to know how to sew because, in the real world, he has people that do that for him. After that whopper came out, I really thought Isaac was going to take off one of his powder blue loafers and just bitch slap the dude on the spot. Finally, though, they decide that Laura, who, btw, looks like Helena Bonham-Carter in Sweeney Todd but not quite as tan, has got to go because socialites and red tulle shall never see eye to eye for as long as there are socialites named Tiddly Monstroso.

So, so long, Laura. Tough break. But hey, give Tim Burton a call. I hear he's casting.

Crying

American Idol has 100% jumped the shark. Last night's episode was merely a vehicle for Paula to give standing ovations. It's almost like she just can't stand to be seated. Paula, maybe being sober just isn't for you. Clearly you can't relax. How 'bout a little Vicodin? Just one...come on...don't be a party pooper. I won't tell a soul.

The beginning of the show started with the annoying judges' picks for the songs. Danny Gokey got a Seal song which you'd think would be awesome for his voice but either he has a bad case of laryngitis or he thinks raspy equals sexy. Either way I wasn't really feeling it. Wait a minute -didn't his wife die? Oh yeah - never mind. I looooved the song and so did the judges - although Kara insulted his dancing. Kara, did you just notice that Danny is white and has poor vision? What were you expecting? I feel like Kara is now just fishing for something to say to separate her from Paula and all her compliments but then Paula was all, "I'm a choreographer and I think he was great!" Okay, slow down Paula: You were a choreographer back when people thought the Thriller video was the ultimate cutting edge of dancing. Judging from your pop and lock moves during your guest lip synch performance of last week, you haven't moved on like the rest of the country.

So then Krisss sang some new song that's on the radio and was exactly like you'd expect. If you've ever seen the show and seen Krisssss perform, imagine that and you know what happened.

To finish round one Simon picked U2's One for Adam to sing and he slowed it waaaay down and made it like a ballad from Les Miserable. If Les Miserable was being performed by an Irish band as interpreted by a goth rocker of undistinct sexuality. I didn't like it. It was all screechy and bizarre but of course the judges were practically humping his leg. Why don't you just proclaim him the winner and save the hassle of renting the Kodak theater for the night?

Next round - the contestants got to pick their own songs and WHAT? Danny Gokey picked You Are So Beautiful...to me. Sure it's a hack song and his voice still sounded like he needed a dose of Dayquil but - wait, didn't his wife die? He's a widower right? Okay, now I get it! Amazing!!!! Way to go, Danny! The only thing standing between you and being a runner up on American Idol is the next Jamie Walters...Krisssss.

Krisss sang Heartless which I guess is by Kanye West. I am old and didn't really get it because I don't download iTunes every five minutes or listen to cutting edge radio. So, once again, I heard it as Krisssss being Krisss but the judges lost their shit and if he'd had black nail polish on I'd swear he was Adam Lambert based on the over the top praise he was getting. But then...

Adam sang Crying by Aerosmith which I have heard in it's original form (because I'm old) and thought it should've stayed that way. But it's no secret that I'm not in love with Adam like everyone else -especially Simon who begged America to vote for him and not just assume he'll win - which he will.

I don't know about you but I can't wait for this season to be over so I can get back to Bachelorette and Housewives fulltime. Yeah, I've got bigger fish to fry.

The Biggest Snoozer or Why God Created Tivo

Three hours! The Biggest Loser finale had a three hour running time. I've never been more attracted to the FF button on my Tivo than at the moment I realized that. I'm not too proud to reveal that did make out with my remote for at least five minutes. Before you think any less of me, it was mostly heavy petting, over the shirt, and no buttons were pushed. Well, except the FF button, multiple times, but that was after the love fest.

Three hours! That's a long time to commit to watching people get on a scale. Even if the scale is fancy-looking.

Three hours! That's how long those two hopeful contestants had to wait to see if they made the show. What the hell was that? Hey, I know you're really overweight and we want to help, but first we are going to let America vote on who gets to be on the show. But don't worry, there is a drive thru McDonalds right outside for the girl that gets rejected ... once again. Also, Jillian wasn't doing the girl she was training any favors when they would do those "exciting" live look-ins. She was pretty snotty. I'm telling you. She hates fat people and one day I predict authorities will discover something very unsightly in her basement.

Three hours! Think about how many male areolas you saw in those three hours. A little unsettling and not really that sexy.

Three hours! Plenty of time to wonder if any of the voted off contestants saved all their dieting and working out for the three days before the big finale. "Oh, shit. Is that THIS Tuesday? Alright, now I'm really gonna get off this sofa and kick it into high gear!"

Three hours! Dedicated to rejoicing the benefits of unhealthy dieting, weight obsession, how to be an anorexic, and overall unrealistic weight loss goals. Which is right up the U.S.A's alley! (I know, I know, it's inspiring, blah, blah, blah but come on. Those people are so obsessed with losing pounds. It can't be healthy. Someone said her goal was to be a size two for the finale, even if she had to die trying. I smell therapy!)

Three hours! Mike had to wear those pants for three hours. Um, did Bob pick those out for you, used-to-be big guy? I still wonder what happens to all the extra skin. We know it doesn't just go away, as you can see by the arms waving in joy. Buffalo Bill could make one hell of a dress out of all that natural material.

Three hours! Jerry had to survive three hours to win $100,000. Pretty damn impressive, although I think some of the weight he lost was in his brain. He kept yelling unintelligible things over and over. Is that cheating? Are you allowed to get a lobotomy to win the Biggest Loser and is it worth it? This may be a bigger scandal than steroids in baseball. How can I look at a Biggest Loser the same way after this?

Three hours! With no real villain. Although, I don't like Helen. I don't really know why. And she did not look good. There should be a rule where if you lose TOO much weight, you're disqualified. Like how you can't go over the retail value on the Price is Right. Pretty devastating to know she won. And just think. If America votes Ron in, Mike wins the $100,000. Instead he has to go against the crazy anorexic. Shame on you, America. No wonder we're in this economic crisis with poor planning like that! Also, Tara, it's a weigh-in. You need every ounce you can get. Maybe lay off the make-up and hoop earings. That was seventeen pounds right there.

Three hours! I want that time back! (Okay, I only really saw forty five minutes after all the fast-forwarding, but that doesn't mean I can't ask for the whole three hours. I deserve it!) See you next season, which I'm pretty sure starts in three hours.

Yippee Ki Yay...

Motherfucker.  Last night, Dancing With the Stars proved nice guys don't finish last. They finish fourth. Ty Murray -- Mr. Congeniality of this season's DWTS -- and the horse he rode in on, were sent back to the dude ranch.  I'm sad because I'd developed a little crush on Ty (Chuck Wicks who?). I'm good like that. I'll work with what's left. I could go to a leper colony and fall for the least offensive looking leper. But there is one place I won't go: I don't do French. So I'm stuck crushless for the finals.

But enough about me and my sexual oddities. On Monday, they aired a retrospective of the remaining contestants, painting them all as normal folk just following their dream.  I'll skip Ty since an old cowboy proverb says, "Don't smack a cowboy on the back when he has chew in his mouth." Although I have no idea what that means.

Shawn Johnson: She's from Iowa.  She's a cute kid. You are slightly concerned as you watch clips of her as a fresh-faced teenager that the ABC makeup artists continue to make her look like she's starring in a MILF-themed porno.  

Melissa Rycroft: She hails from Dallas. She loves Dallas. She was a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, that's how much she loves Dallas. Dallas hasn't gotten so much air time since the "Who Shot JR?" mania.  We get it!  You love Dallas!

Gilles Marini: He's from Cannes, France. But he's not fancy. He was a baker's son. We see shots of Gilles as a wee boy baking at the bakery with his dad. Who is now deceased. I think it was supposed to evoke sympathy but it really just made me want to eat a chocolate croissant.

Can we discuss Samantha Harris for a moment? Did you see that dress she was wearing which showed off her deceptively ample bosom which she managed to conceal all season?  One cannot weigh 60 pounds and still have breasts. Survival instinct would kick in and one's own body would eat one's own breasts in a desperate search for nourishment. The woman has implants. How did this escape me all season? I'm not doing my job properly if I don't smell plastic surgery until the semi-finals. And for that I apologize. Note to Samantha: Sam, honey cakes, your PERSONALITY is in much more dire need of medical intervention than your figure.  And your baby is funny looking.

I'll end with another cowboy proverb (there are lots of them, who knew?): "Real cowboys don't run away. They just ride." Happy trails, Ty. Me likey!

CELEBRATION

Boom went the dynamite! It’s over! Celebrity Apprentice is over! And we only had to sit through three hours of to get there. So without further ado and because three hours was way too long (Not Biggest Loser long, but long nonetheless) let’s focus on the highlights:

In the first moments, the voice over announces: “New York’s number 1 attraction: Donald Trump.” If that’s true then New York tourism is screwed. What? Nobody wants to see the Statue of Liberty anymore?

We then get to see the Donald with his two children and Donny jr looks so awkward, I’m worried he may have crapped his pants on live television. That’s probably not going to impress Brande, Don-don!

Yippee, highlights of the season although I must say, I never tire of Melissa hobbling around in her walking cast. That image may be the thing I miss most when this season is over.

The fired celebrities come out and it’s a who’s who of people I have never heard of or care about. Claudia Jordan? Really? She was on the show at one point? She tells us the experience was great and she learned a lot about herself, which is great because the only thing I learned about her is I never want to see her on T.V. again. I’m wondering who she had to sleep with to become a Deal or No Deal model because she clearly lacks the necessary skill set to open a suitcase on command. I guess her job interview was a true life “Howie do it”.

Bet you didn’t know this but three fired celebrities were missing. It took me forever to figure it out but we didn’t get to revisit with Khloe, Natalie, or T-Boz. Damn! My night might be ruined.

Trump calls Jesse a stud and now I wonder if my sex tape prediction was far off. Could you imagine the Donald (the #1 attraction in New York) wrapped in a tight embrace with Jesse, his hair slowly crawling down Jesse’s back? SEXY TIMES!

Joan and Annie pick teams and the brilliant poker mind completely blows it. Joan ain’t taking Brande so why choose her first? I guess Annie isn’t as smart as we thought and this may be the first sign that things aren’t going her way. If I listen softly I can actually make out a song, playing softly:

There's a party goin' on right here

A celebration to last throughout the years

Jim Kramer giving us financial advice? Um, Jim, I wouldn’t trust you with my money, so why would I trust you on the important issues, like who I should be rooting for on Celebrity Apprentice. Don’t you need to do another guest spot on The Daily Show?

With the teams working on the fundraising/party task, blah, blah, blah, I notice Annie is missing her black stockings. Uh-oh! That’s like Samson without his hair or Clint without his hat! Actually, I think Clint’s hat is broken, because he seems to not be trying at all. Does the thing need batteries? Joan is pretty much down a man, but then again she could have Tom Green on her team.

Dennis and Tom harassing Annie is awesome. She looks like she knows she’s fucked. When Dennis calls her cell to tell her that he and Tom are right behind her, I must say I am enjoying every minute.

So bring your good times, and your laughter too

We gonna celebrate your party with you

When Donny jr and Ivanka check up on Joan, I finally solved that equation I’ve been working on: no charisma + no charisma = those two talking on screen together. Beat that Albert Einstein and your pitiful E= MC squared.

It’s official. Annie is obsessed with Joan. She couldn’t stop blaming Joan for the event planner quitting. It’s not Joan’s fault the guy was a mess. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you are an event planner, it just mean you will most likely end up being an event planner. Big difference.

Annie won’t shut up about it. This might be the point where I say if you looked up “inferiority complex” in the dictionary, you would see a picture of Annie Duke. But you can’t look up “inferiority complex” in the dictionary no matter how much Brande might try, but you can look it up in a medical dictionary. What do you know? Picture of Annie Duke!

Tom Green. Where you been hiding? The guy is bringing the funny, especially when he gave shit to Annie in the van. When he called her out for being obsessed with Joan and pretty much pointing out that she is overreacting I think he spoke for all of America! And he’s Canadian! Stop taking our jobs. Seriously, this guy is underrated! Thank You! Plus, he survived cancer AND a marriage to Drew Barrymore (I wonder which was more painful) and still kept a sense of humor.

The event started, and um, quick question: Do drag queen impersonators really sum up the Kodak brand? Just asking because I always thought they did and people gave me dirty looks when I brought it up during small talk. How you like me now? Suck it, bitches (ie, Annie).

Come on now

Annie broke out the stockings for the event! Trouble? I hope it’s too little stockings too late.

The events ended, we know Joan got killed on fundraising, but she more than made up for it by finding annoying people for her party. Kathy Griffin is the biggest star of the night! And you thought Celebrity Apprentice had no Celebrities. Shame on you! Um, wait a second.

Taped boardroom part and all I can think is “Don’t fuck with Joan”. It’s impossible to argue with her. It’s not history, it’s not herstory, it’s whatever the hell Joan wants it to be. Hey Annie, C U Next Tuesday!

Celebration Let's all celebrate and have a good time

Celebration We gonna celebrate and have a good time

Live finale! How does Trump get away with talking down to these high-powered celebrities? He must be the #1 attraction in New York! We almost hit Defcon 1 when Rodman and Jesse got into it but luckily Trump was there to smooth it over. And by smooth I mean yelled at them like they were five.

Trump asks Scott Hamilton “Who would you do?” and by his look of fear, you know he’s thinking “I didn’t sign up for that”. But once Trump clarifies he means “who would you hire”, Scott changes his answer from Jesse to Joan.

So bring your good times, and your laughter too

We gonna celebrate your party with you

Last season’s finalists came out, Piers Morgan and Trace Adkins, and you could just feel the star power rising. Trace is a country singer and shockingly he wore a cowboy hat just like Clint!!!! Those country singers sure know how to brand themselves. I wonder if Clint spent the whole season confused: “Wait, a second! Annie is a poker player? Where’s her visor and sunglasses? And how am I supposed to know Natalie is a professional golfer? Where’s her lesbian life partner?!”

Both Trace and Piers thought Joan should win. So far only Jesse and his old people insults chose Annie. The look of eagerness on Annie’s face every time Trump asked someone to choose which instantly melted when Joan’s name was said gave me great pleasure. She should have asked Rodman to simply tattoo “Please like me!” across her forehead. It would have saved the editors plenty of time.

Everyone around the world

Come on!

Then Trump asked the two women to defend themselves and Joan kept talking over Annie. Brilliant. Impossible to win an argument when you can’t talk. But it didn’t really matter. After 170 minutes, the live finale was becoming very anti-climactic. When Joan is correcting grammar (“professionally”) we have problems. But who cares! We all win. The charities get money, we get some great moments, Annie finally gets to be friends with the pretty girl, Melissa gets to show off side boob and side everything else with her dress, and we get to finally see who is hired as Celebrity Apprentice.

JOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!! And NBC botches the ending. No reaction shots. Wtf! Annie should have went for the hair when Joan hugged her. Instead, I’m left replaying Annie’s face at the moment she gets fired. Oh, well, it’s the simple things in life. Plus, I think someone on this sight called the winner already.

After all the build-up, it couldn’t quite reach expectations. No big shockers! Brande didn’t get with Donny, we didn’t discover that Andrew Dice Clay was dead all along, the name of Jesse’s tattoo wasn’t Rosebud. But what did happen is Joan sent Annie back to wherever she came from! And that means only one thing!

We're gonna have a good time tonight (Ce-le-bra-tion)

Let's celebrate, it's all right

We're gonna have a good time tonight (Ce-le-bra-tion)

Let's celebrate, it's all right

Cluck, cluck, splash: The Preview of The Celebrity Apprentice Finale

It wasn't supposed to be this way. Celebrity Apprentice 2 premiered and no one really cared. Who wanted to watch a bunch of nobodies (seriously, if Natalie Gulbis shows up at her own family reunion does anybody know who she is) half ass challenges and call their friends to donate money? The first one only gave us Omerosa vs. Piers, which wasn't worth a another whole season.

Oh, sure, Rodman was definitely going to give us a little entertainment. His attack on Clint Black (wish that was a t-shirt. The Attack on Clint Black!) was fun, and the drunken episode was riveting. Unfortunately, he had to eventually be fired, and that seemed like the end.


But then something wonderful happened. These celebrities left their shame at the door. They forgot that the point of being on the show was to get back into the public eye and look good doing it. As their publicists scrambled to stop the carnage, suddenly, we had a show worth watching.


So what's happening this Sunday. Who the hell knows? But this is the show that gave us the Melissa meltdown, Joan's multiple tirades against Annie, Brande, Clint, etc, Jesse calling Clint a fucking idiot (stay classy, Jesse), Brande exposing her lack of a fifth grade education, and Annie's perfect season long impression of the biggest bitch on the planet. So, anything could happen but here are a few very likely predictions forthe three hour season finale this Sunday. Yes, I know three hours is a long time, but some of that is LIVE! And Joan already proved on Ellen she is not backing down.

1. Donald Junior will show up not wearing pants in a last ditch effort to impress Brande.

2. Rodman will imprenate Clint's cowboy hat and then refuse to pay child support.

3. Annie will wear black stockings and act holier than thou. (Who am I kidding? This will never happen!)

4. Joan will re-enact Paula's "singing and dancing" performance on American Idol, especially since most of those dance moves looked like they were already being performed by a 75 year old woman.

5. Brande will ask Melissa to sign her yearbook, and then dump pig's blood on Melissa when she pulls out a pen, prompting a Carrie like reaction from Melissa.

6. Tom Green will debut the sex tape he made with Khloe Kardashian, prompting a Carrie like reaction from Melissa.

7. Herschel Walker will add something meaningful to the boardroom discussion without getting thoroughly confused. (Dare to dream)

8. Jesse James will reveal a sex tape he made with Scott Hamilton, prompting a Carrie like reaction from the live studio audience.

9. Clint will reveal that Verne Troyer was living under his hat the whole time, controlling all his actions.

10. Joan will win Celebrity Apprentice in an upset and the world will be whole again!

Who knew in 2009 I would be actively rooting for Joan Rivers? But that's the point! Anything can happen! Celebrity Apprentice - where reality dreams can come true.

Cluck, Cluck, motherfucking Splash!

The Fashion Show: It Begins

Like most people, I was very distressed when I heard that Project Runway has left Bravo and will begin its new season on the Lifetime network sometime in the next three to bazillion years. Which is bad news for longtime fans of the show, but fantastic news for those of you who like to chase your Heidi and Tim with a five-hour marathon of Yasmine Bleeth movies. (Why do people keep stealing her babies?? Why?)

Anyway, just when I was about to commit hari-kari with a pair of pinking shears over this switcheroonie, I learned that Bravo has replaced PR with a new design competition called “The Fashion Show.” TFS is hosted/judged by Isaac Mizrahi who waves his hands around a lot and designs affordable capri pants for Target. (So much cuter than that crap Merona.) His co-host/judge is Kelly Rowland, former member of Destiny’s Child and supposed “actress.” Although, I think the only acting she’s actually done is trying to not look like she wants to strangle Beyonce with a hair extension. The third judge is some fashion icon named Fern who looks like an extra from “Menopause: The Musical.”

The show starts with shots of the NYC skyline and traffic zooming by, eerily reminiscent of PR. But then, instead of meeting the contestants in their living quarters, we meet them in… the workroom. Vive la difference! The 15 designers trot in, all wide-eyed and, in my opinion, most in dire need of some soap and water. But maybe that’s fashionable now, who knows. I mean, I shop at The Gap.

Isaac and Kelly make their grand entrance and give the designers their first “mini-challenge”, which is to make a Little Black Dress out of a t-shirt. This sets off a few moments of sewing panic, with the end result being 15 dresses that look like those shredded t-shirts with beads on the bottom that are sold in places like Senor Frog's. Somewhere Bo Derek is smiling.

The three “winners” of this challenge then get to choose their teams for the “big challenge.” First is Merlin the Honduran, a 5’2 flamboyant egomaniac who dresses like the in-house pimp at the Copacabana, then Keith, a Jared Leto lookalike and finally, chubby Johnny R., who apparently takes his personal fashion cues from the John Belushi sketch, “Samurai Deli.” But hey, if that means he’s going to cut his fabric with a Japanese tribal sword, then deal me in.

The teams are then told to pick one “must have” wardrobe item and design five looks around it. Then...well, let’s just skip the typical sewing/fighting montages and cut right to the big event: the fashion show, which is filled with “important industry insiders” in the audience who will vote on their favorite. I know, can you stand it?

The first group down the runway is Samurai Johnny’s, who has decided that the one essential item every woman must have in her wardrobe is-- wait for it---grey satin harem pants. Because, really, what could be more chic than looking like a transvestite MC Hammer at your son’s soccer game?

Next comes Keith’s group, who has made a brown tube skirt so tight, even the 90-pound models barely fit in them and must hobble knock-kneed down the runway looking like they’re toddlers trying not to pee. I'm pretty sure that later, the Jaws of Life had to be brought out to undress these poor girls.

Finally, Merlin the Honduran’s models come out in the must have…bolero jacket. You know, in case you want to look like a South American bullfighter when you’re at the grocery store. Ole, fuckwad! Give me that melon, por favor! (Note: Merlin the Honduran’s bio claims he’s designed clothes for Paris Hilton and Paula Abdul . And he still got on the show.)

Now, the judging begins. No surprise, but the bolero jacket, which was the least offensive of them all, wins the challenge, which prompts Merlin the Honduran to say, as he’s sashaying back to his seat, “The beetches rule the world!” Yeah, Merlin. Especially ones wearing CAPES. Then John-Paul, a dead ringer for Gedde Watanabe (aka Long Duck Dong), wins first prize for his rather bizarre dress and says, “I’ve been experimenting with squahs and rectangas and so I just put squahs and…”, then he almost passes out in a pool of bolero flop sweat.

Finally, the two worst designers of the week, Kristin, a blonde who designed an odd tube skirt/vest combo and Jonny, a scruffy guy from North Hollywood, who designed a weird tube skirt/slut top combo, are called on the carpet. After a bit of heavy drumbeats, it is decided that Jonny sinned the worst because his model “looked slutty” and also, he did her boobs wrong. Or something. Then the moment we’ve all been waiting for finally comes—the new catchphrase that will replace Heidi’s icy “Auf wiedersehen”! As the camera zooms in, Isaac screws up his face, pauses and then snipes, “Sorry, but we’re not buying it. Bye-bye, darling.”

Ah, scruffy North Hollywood Jonny who doesn’t respect the boob, we hardly knew ye.

LOL With Jenny McCarthy

Seriously, I'm beginning to tire of the people with whom Opes is affiliating. Case in point: Jenny McCarthy, who signed some kind of lucrative development deal with Harpo, the first part of which is a (preposterous) blog about giving up sugar. If you're not reading it -- and for the love of all things holy I hope you're not --you're missing remarkable insights like this:

Airplane food. Yikes. I had the chicken. I thought it tasted okay but judging from the rumbles in my tummy I think the man sitting next to me is going to be in for a couple of sound effects while he sleeps. Maybe he will be dreaming that he is watching a 4th of July firecracker show. Yikes!  LOL

Note to Jenny: The only person laughing, let alone out loud, is YOU.  Did this woman really write a best-selling book? Will the ghost writer please stand up?

In a particularly poignant post titled "PMS Sugar Blues" Jenny tells us how she calls Jim Carrey her husband even though they aren't legally wed. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you Exhibit A to prove that Jenny McCarthy and the defendant, Jim Carrey, referred to themselves as married, entitling Ms. McCarthy to half of the defendant's $12 billion fortune." 

If you just can't get enough of Jenny (in which case might I suggest a lobotomy) you can also find her on Twitter where you can punish yourself all day long by following her every move.

Okay, did you see the Elizabeth Edwards interview yesterday? I couldn't concentrate on what was being said because Oprah looked like she'd been beaten about the head and I was trying to figure out who did it. Opes can easily take John Edwards so I ruled him out as a suspect. Regardless, I think this Edwards mess just proves my theory that you never marry a man prettier than yourself. And, dear God, never never never someone prettier AND younger. In fact, you marry the oldest and least attractive man you can still stomach sleeping with, thereby minimizing the chances he'll cheat and/or leave you. They don't teach that shit at Harvard Law.

Kate Doesn't Think Mate Was On Date

I mean, the rhyming possibilities with these people are endless.

The first real Octomom, Kate of "Jon and Kate Plus Eight," has come out to respond to allegations of Jon's (alleged) indiscretion.  She was on the Today show this morning where she says "she is hesitant to believe" the allegations.  Which means he is so busted. Even when the wife comes out guns-a-blazing screaming from the hilltops that such allegations are false, it turns out 99.99 percent of the time they're true. When one is "hesitant to believe" he's already been relegated to the guest bedroom.

Kate goes on to say "they are dealing with it privately." And, well, with all of the Today Show viewers. She also says this issue won't be featured on their reality show, because she's not going to "sit down and give it credibility." Errr, as she sits down and gives it credibility.

While she deals with it "privately," luckily we have the brother of the mistress who is "looking out for his sister" by providing photos and videotape of the lovers. Yippee! I love the ne'er-do-well relative who comes out of the woodwork during these scandals with irrefutable evidence. 

But, let's face it. Jon boozing it up late-night with tramps isn't Kate's biggest problem.   Her hair is. How does one even articulate that's the cut one wants?  "Yeah, short and make sure it looks like a machete plowed through my living room and just happened to graze the very top of the back of my head..." I suspect Kate's stylist is one of the sextuplets, presumably the one with the vision problem (front row, second from the right).

Here's wishing they work it out. Privately.

And Then It Was a Sausage Factory

American Idol may have officially jumped the shark with this gruesome threesome making up the final three. But hey, that's just my opinion. Apparently America has spoken and America loves America some Adam Lambert. I obviously am unamerican and this blog is probably being monitered by the government as I write this. Which makes me incredibly brave to be voicing my opinion which could in fact land me in jail. It's McCartheyism I tell you! And if it comes down to a trial, I will stand by what I believe.

Simon, will you stand up with me? I have a feeling you will go all Britian on me and refuse to help. Paula I know you won't. You'll just smile spacily and say, "I think all the contestants are wonderful and everyone on this stage including the gaffer and electrician, who is an amazing kisser by the way, is an American Idol. God bless America! Um, can I bum a Percocet?" And then Randy will just say "Yeah, dawg!" in such a noncommital way that no court could convict him of taking a stance on anything, ever.

So, if you don't hear from me on the next installment, send cupcakes to the Central California Women's Institution located in Chowchilla. Let's hope they have TiVo.

Oh American Idol

Last night was Rock Week on AI. Whoa! Hang on a minute...are you sure you want to spice things up that much? I mean, disco is one thing but rock? I haven't been that shocked since Paula admitted to a pain pill addiction. Oh Paula. Say it ain't so. Say you aren't clean. Don't leave those delicious pills behind completely. Come on Paula. The sweet, sweet pills just want to love you. They don't make you "all weird" as you say, they make you delightful. Those pills are the reason we watch the show. Anyway, they decided to mix things up even more on the show by having the final four do duets which sounds much more exciting than it was. But first, each of the contestants got advice from their "mentor" Slash from Guns N' Roses.


Little know fact about Slash #1: Real name? Saul Hudson. I also know a Saul Hudson. He does my tax returns.

The votes weren't the only thing being phoned in on last night's show.


Adam Lambert: Adam took the stage looking like a goth lesbian. He was rockin' the pleather, the studs and the eyeliner way too hard. Who is styling this guy, Rosie O' Donnel? He then proceeded to perform an eardrum pain inducing version of Whole Lotta Love. I've got to hand it to him, just when you think he couldn't get more over the top...he does.



Randy dug it. Kara dug it. Paula would applaud Adam salting a tomato so that doesn't say much but even Simon has drunk the Adam Kool-Aid. I'm starting to get scared that Adam one of those robots that think and shit and he's going to take over the world starting with American Idol. I don't have proof but I'm working on it.


Allison Iraheta: She sang Cry Baby by Janis Joplin and she was amazing. Of course, she followed the mind melding robot so none of the judges fully appreciated what we the audience at home were hearing.


Then...we got our first duet. Krisss and Danny sang a Styx: Renegade. But I wouldn't say they sang it together which I had previously thought was the definition of a duet. Apparently I was wrong. Apparently a duet could also mean two guys singing seemingly different songs so far apart from each other they were probably texting between versus. But they did manage to come together from a facial hair standpoint. They were both working with a weird goateeish thing.

Krissss: He attempted to sing THE BEATLES Come Together. Krisssssss is the only singer who could make a Beatles' song sound better suited for the Peach Pit or a 90210 Bonfire. He also managed to do some uncomfortable "rocking out with Slash" move during the song.

Little known fact about Slash #2: He knows all the waitresses names at Nate N' Al's by heart.

Danny Gokey (aka Man of a Thousand Frames): He did Dream On by Aerosmith. I'm sorry but you just can't be a rock star in a vest from Men's Wearhouse. You can't. You can do a lot of things in a vest; buy stocks, apply for a job as a junior network executive but just not that. Danny, please heed my advice. Matt didn't listen and look what happened. His hat spelled his demise. For this week though, you are safe.

Next there was another duet this time with Adam and Allison. They performed Foghat Slow Ride. It was fine.

Little known fact about Slash #3: He was given his nickname by a family friend named Seymour Cassel. My grandfather's name was Seymour and he gave me the nickname Demon Spawn. So I relate.

Who's the Biggest Loser now?

Okay, so I was wrong. There was one more Biggest Loser episode before the finale and I’m sure many of you are thinking “Obviously, moron. Everyone knew that, and if you paid any attention instead of merely thinking about your stupid Biggest Loser joke, you would have known, too.” Which is kinda harsh. Because, while obvious, that Biggest Loser joke is NOT stupid.

So the contestants go home for thirty days before their last weigh-in before the finale. Plenty of tears and applause and angst and excitement for everyone. And we get to see the final four reconnect with their old lives.

Tara went out to lunch with her “friends” and that’s when they revealed to her that they thought she had been way too fat, but they didn’t say anything because what was the point. There was no hope for her. Memo to Tara: Find some new friends, especially when one of the ones throwing gas on the fire wasn’t exactly the picture of slim herself.

As for Mike and his dad Ron, how annoying do you think it got for Max, the other son? You know the two of them just kept going on about eating right and exercising until Max was ready to punch one of them. The look on his face told it all. Yeah, hotshots, you went away and were trained for hour after hour every day while I stayed here and fended for myself with only my friends McDonalds and Wendy to keep me company. We all used to be in this together. Shut the fuck up before I jam a drumstick in your ear.

As for Helen, how cold was it between her and her daughter? Seriously, I know her daughter Shannon asked to be voted off so her mom could stay, but Helen, that’s your daughter! She has her whole life ahead of her. You have your husband. Stop being so selfish. I actually think her husband wasn’t that happy with Helen’s weight loss. Before, she was fat so it didn’t matter that he was little and a bit weird, but now she might notice these things.

Then, in a shocking moment, the contestants found a box outside telling them their last challenge was to run a marathon, which sends everyone in a panic, especially me. I foresee a lot of running coming up in this episode. Whoo-hoo.

The trainers showed up to check on their contestants and Jillian worked out Mike and promised to help Max. Now, we didn’t see her actually help Mike. I get the feeling Jillian really doesn’t like fat people unless she has to for her job. She would probably kick Santa Clause in the nuts if she caught him coming down her chimney. (No, that is not a sexual joke. At least, I don’t think it is.)

Then Bob shows to check on Ron and he ends up putting Max through a work-out and I found myself getting a little choked up. Well, well, well. Look at who’s the biggest loser now? All signs point to me. Luckily I was able to distract myself by looking at Bob’s head, which is becoming very alien like. I’m worried the stress of never beating Jillian is taking a giant toll.

The marathon starts and I check my tivo and wonder if it’s playing tricks on me. I’m only halfway through the episode? What the Fuck! Maybe the damn thing is broken because this episode is never ending. I start tearing up again, realizing that I may be trapped in another dimension where I have to watch this episode for the rest of eternity. So the two women run and Mike and Ron walk and then they get joined by support groups. Helen’s husband shows but notice how her daughter is nowhere to be found. (I’m starting to think Shannon has probably been spending most of her time since being voted off having secret rendezvous with Max at the local TGIF.) And the contestants run and run and run or walk and walk and walk. At one point I thought I saw Forrest Gump, but I may have been hallucinating. All I know is NBC is determined to show us the whole marathon, in it’s entirety and I will never get to go to sleep and erase this from my tivo. That’s when tears really start flowing. Make it stop! I really miss Celebrity Apprentice now because at least its two hour episodes have the hope that something interesting will happen.

Everyone finishes but Ron, who is determined to continue on, even as his body breaks down. Hey, health is overrated, right? Then past contestants join him and I realize I recognize Bernie from a season I actually watched and it was like finding an old acquaintance on facebook. You recognize the person, contact him asking how he's been, and then realize you really don’t care and now you just hope your new friend doesn’t start sending you snow globes and “Which Pussy Cat Doll Are You?” quizzes.

Bob and Mike join Ron and the rest of the gang at mile 21 and Ron has been going for 11 hours, and we’ve seen every second of it. Finally, after 13 hours, Ron crosses the finish line, with Mike waiting for him. Wait, what? Mike was just with him. The producers probably banked on the fact that the sheer boredom of this episode would cause blood to flow from my eyes and I wouldn’t pick up on the fact that Mike is everywhere at once. All four contestants complete their marathon and the reward is $10, 000 to the charity of their choice, which cannot be used as a bail-out plan for Baskin and Robbins.

The final weigh in happens and I don’t think I need to see Ron with his shirt off ever again. He looked a lot like a lobster when he first showed up at campus, and then I start wondering how high pitched his screams would be if he got dropped in a vat of boiling water. I’ve officially lost my mind. Mike and Ron are in bottom two, which means America votes to put one into the final three and the right to be the Biggest Loser. But after watching that whole episode, I can already tell you who the Biggest Loser is? It’s me, which proves only one thing. THAT BIGGEST LOSER JOKE NEVER GETS OLD!!!!!!

L'il Kim and Her "Kitty Box" Sent Home

Dear God the Professional Cowboys Rodeo Association has launched the best PR coup since Angelina Jolie transformed from a blood-sucking, brother-frenching freak into an orphan-saving, philanthropic, breast-feeding Earth mother.

Ty Murray was not voted off Dancing With the Stars last night. L'il Kim was.  Nobody was more surprised than she was.

But let's not allow the earlier-than-expected departure of L'il Kim keep us from enjoying her uplifting musical talents. Following is a list of oldies but goodies of L'il Kim hits with accompanying lyrics if the titles pique your interest:

Suck My Dick

How Many Licks

Kitty Box

We Don't Give a Fuck

I Need a Bitch

Well, I think you get the idea.  

So as previously reported, former contestant Lisa Rinna made a guest appearance to dance with one of the auditioning professionals for next season. The luckless sod who got paired with her doesn't have a shot. As Samantha (whose hair contained a refreshing 75 percent less Aquanet than usual) KEPT REMINDING US we were voting for our favorite pro dancer, not favorite celebrity. Well, good thing. There was not a celebrity, let alone a favorite celebrity, to be had. Despite Samantha's repeated pleas, you can't help but penalize the sucker who got stuck with Lisa, even though said pairing should  have garnered him extra points, not demerits. After all, Lisa is still alive which means he didn't bludgeon her. Which is what I would have done if I had to spend a week straight with her.

My biggest problem with Lisa isn't her overzealous breast enhancement or her cartoonish lips or her affinity for tanning herself into the color burnt sienna but that SHE THINKS SHE IS SUCH A CARD.  Look at me! I am 45 and fit and oh-so nutty! Am I not nutty and funny and fit for 45???!!!  Well, no. You look like a spawn of Daffy Duck and RuPaul. Get therapy!

My initial theory was that Harry Hamlin, married to Lisa for 12 (excruciating, I would imagine) years, might have a visual or auditory malfunction, or was possibly imprisoned against his will. Well, he was in the audience last evening. Which leaves me no other choice but to conclude he's been struck with Stockholm Syndrome, especially given his apparent disregard for sunscreen.

That said, we've got four contenders left:  Ty Murray, Shawn Johnson, Gilles Marini and Melissa Rycroft.  Vote for Ty Murray, America!  

Giddy up.