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Posts Tagged VH1

Cruel Cruel Summer

Filed Under: TV Reviews

So I know I’m several weeks late with the inevitable roundup of summer television, but I like to get a little settled before I pass judgment on hours of programming that I’ll probably continue watching out of sheer boredom after I’ve long since established that it’s making me progressively dumber (see: Rock of Love). I like to catch a few episodes, allow myself to get mildly invested in the characters/contestants/suitors before I decide whether a show is “worth” an hour of my Sunday afternoon, which might otherwise be spent watching foreign films, reading literature or pontificating on the meaning of life. Seriously, I’m a very busy person.

So here’s what I’m watching this summer, and what you should be too, if you know what’s good for you.


tvali-100x100THE BACHELORETTE: I’m a little late to this particular line of shows; all I know is both The Bachelorette and predecessor The Bachelor (shit started in 2002!) are the mainstream equivalents of VH1’s romantic contest-based programming. The only difference is there’s more mush—poetry, hand-holding, prolonged eye contact without resulting sexual contact—and fewer strippers. Bachelorette Ali, who is apparently a cast-off from a past season of The Bachelor (sort of the ABC version of Real World/Road Rules Challenge), seems sufficiently generic; she’s the kind of girl you’d pass in a J. Crew with a small dog in her purse. Her eligible men are equally nondescript, to the point that I’ve watched at least three episodes and couldn’t pair names with faces. Fortunately for ABC, the sheer voyeurism of watching people try to fall in love means it’s hard to fuck this one up.

Verdict: Watch with a hand on the remote. Some scenes—like Ali being serenaded by anyone, anywhere—are too perfectly awkward to miss. Others, like the ENDLESS rose ceremony, are easy to skip.


tvtopchef-100x100TOP CHEF D.C.: Here’s the thing about Top Chef: it’s getting a little…old. The formula is the same every season and even though they switch cities, unless you’re familiar with the culinary inner-workings of Chicago versus New York versus D.C., the guest chefs and restaurant cameos aren’t going to make much of a difference. It doesn’t help that a lot of the challenges are the same (and then again repeated on Top Chef Masters which, let’s be honest, is just a space filler between TC seasons so you don’t start watching something else in that time slot). That said, this season of Top Chef seems to have the requisite cast of characters: the early front-runner, the power-hungry female, the trod-upon foreigner. Add some spices and voila! Decent television.

Verdict: If you’ve watched the last six seasons, you might as well keep on keeping on. But make sure you have food around; after one particularly tantalizing episode I found myself dipping pretzel rods in butter.


tvworkofart-100x100WORK OF ART: In its never-ending quest to find the “top” everything—chef, fashion designer, hair stylist, hair stylist for poodles—Bravo has moved on to perhaps the most subjective of all topics: art. Work of Art throws a bunch of weirdos with artistic inclinations in one room, where they tackle assigned inspirations that run the gamut from portraiture to book covers. To be honest, I had limited hope for this show. I get the Bravo thing, I buy into it, but as someone who’s spent life wishing her technical ability matched her drive to create art, I wasn’t keen on watching people have their work slammed. So far, Bravo has proved me wrong: the ‘assignments’ are broad enough that it’s hard to argue people are being pigeon-holed and the variety in skills is huge; the show includes everything from painters to performance artists. The only weak point: the judges. But to be fair, Tim Gunn set the bar pretty high.

Verdict: If you like Bravo’s other fare, this one is well worth the time. And if you don’t like Bravo’s other fare, why the fuck are you reading my blog?


tvyourecutoff-100x100YOU’RE CUT OFF: VH1 never ceases to amaze. Just when I think they’ve exhausted the possibilities for trashy spin-off shows, they come up with something totally original (and by original I mean “original”) to hold the line until Ray J and another gaggle of hookers can be rounded up. You’re Cut Off follows a dozen spoiled princesses (think My Super Sweet 16, plus ten years) as they’re thrown in a house together with a life coach who teaches them lessons like “Toilets don’t clean themselves” and “Shoes don’t HAVE to cost $4,000.” It’s predictably entertaining to watch women who count tiaras among their casual-wear try to figure out how to grocery shop, or sweep a floor. Unfortunately the life coach/host isn’t harsh enough to make me feel like the ladies are learning anything so much as biding time until they can return home to their pampered lives, a few thousand dollars richer (what does VH1 pay its minions these days?) and decidedly more famous. I would venture to say that a re-casting of Sharon Osbourne, who whipped even sluttier and trashier girls into shape on Charm School, would have made for a much better show. Assuming Monique is booked.

Verdict: When it comes to the on-camera demonization of 20-somethings who have never had to work or think for themselves, I am decidedly in favor.

 
kira

5:45 PM on June 29th, 2010 | 

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The Rap Game

Filed Under: Screenshots From Kira's Television

dscn60591-450x337

In addition to all the rappers, producers and celebrities interviewed for 50 Cent’s episode of Behind the Music: his barber. Which is even more interesting considering I don’t think I’ve ever seen 50 Cent’s hair.

 
kira

9:30 AM on October 27th, 2009 | 

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In The News: Wolves, New Jersey

Filed Under: Pop Culture

wolvesLots of unexpected shit happened in the news this weekend. Five escaped wolf-hybrid dogs were captured in New Jersey; no explanation as to whether a wolf-hybrid dog is simply like, you know, Balto, or rather the result of some Jersey medical experiment.

Also, police busted two brothels in the Hamptons over the weekend, which means more than a few vacationing real estate brokers are in need of a new “For a good time, call …” number. Don’t worry Lou, I already wrote yours on a select 100 bathroom stalls.

DJ AM was found dead in his apartment on Friday, and for whatever reason the media has continued to speculate on his cause of death. Let me hazard a guess here: drugs. Yes, it was definitely totally drugs. That, or some sort of Final Destination karma for not getting killed in that plane accident last year. Death always wins.

Oh, and the Times wrote about VH1 Celebreality, circa two years too late to be culturally relevant.

And some more on wolves. Shutup, I’m tired.

 
kira

11:56 AM on August 31st, 2009 | 

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Integrity Is Overrated

Filed Under: TV

danceassThis is a list I found written haphazardly into a “Memo” on my Blackberry. Chances I was high when I wrote it? A million percent.

THINGS REALITY TELEVISION HAS TAUGHT ME WILL NEVER HAPPEN:

  1. Diddy will make a successful band.
  2. Bret Michaels will find love.
  3. Tila Tequila will decide between boys and girls.
  4. The Real World will find something socially unacceptable enough to cause 1990’s-level drama in the 21st century.
  5. People with more than five children will live happily ever after.
  6. Obese people will lose weight without participating in televised weight-loss competitions.
  7. Heidi and Spencer will disappear.
  8. There will be something that no one is willing to do on TV.
 
kira

3:38 PM on August 27th, 2009 | 

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Megan Wants a Murderer

Filed Under: Pop Culture

meganwants1You know those moments when you realize you’ve somehow averted disaster simply by being in the right place at the right time—you stop for coffee and miss a train that later stalls underground, or trip on the sidewalk and avoid a fatal blow from an unobservant bus driver. Shit like that. Well now’s the time for American model and reality show star Megan Hauserman to thank her lucky stars.

The body of Jasmine Fiore, a 28-year-old Canadian swimsuit model, was found stuffed inside a discarded suitcase this weekend, (though I have no idea how authorities could tell since Fiore, pictured, appears to be made of plastic). An investigation is ongoing, but among the “persons of interest” with whom the police are interested in speaking is 32-year-old Ryan Alexander Jenkins, a real estate developer and past contestant on VH1 newbie Megan Wants A Millionaire. (And according to TMZ, an eventual participant in I Love Money 3).

Although Ryan has yet to be eliminated from the show, I assume his participation should be referred to in the past tense—police would surely be able to track down someone whose every move was being recorded and broadcast on national television. So assuming Ryan is booted this week, or soon (a shocker, really, I considered him a frontrunner), dear Megan is surely looking back now and wondering just how close she was to inviting a potential serial killer into her home. Well, VH1’s home. And I guess they invited him, she just had to show up with a suitcase full of bikinis.

In any case, if my timing estimates are correct, Ms. Hauserman and her retarded dog are by this point settled on one of the show’s unfortunate bachelors, and most likely somewhere in the hazy timeframe between the season finale, reunion special and point at which they inevitably break up so she can begin production on Season 2. For the rest of us, well now’s the time to think to ourselves two things: First, whether there might be any other hidden criminals in Megan’s midst, and second, how awesome it would have been if she got killed.

 
kira

4:07 PM on August 19th, 2009 | 

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Match.com Has Nothing On Reality TV

Filed Under: TV Reviews

You know you have a problem when your “back from vacation” To Do list has “Catch up on television” right after “Deal with 900+ work-related e-mails.” So it was with some trepidation, and no small amount of shame, that I set about tackling the hours of reality and non-reality fare I missed during my weeklong sojourn to the Jersey shore. Proud of this dedication I am not.

In the world of recurring shows, I didn’t miss much. Charm School ended its completely underwhelming run. Risky took the $100,000 prize, with which she plans to start a charity for children with incarcerated parents, a far cry from first-season winner Saaphyri’s ambitions of starting her own line of “lip chap.” So I guess progress is being made. On Daisy of Love, Daisy glossed over actually endearing though eerily tan Flex in favor of London, who was actually kicked off weeks ago but returned to steal his prize about three episodes back. Far better than watching Daisy make the predictable choice was witnessing her dismissal of reality-show veteran 12 Pack, who proceeded to attempt the closest approximation at crying a man can accomplish on steroids. Truly touching. On NYC Prep, Bravo came ever closer to revealing the overtly obvious gayness of its main character, and on Real World, there was more fighting, flirting, drinking and fighting and flirting while drinking.

No, the real gems of the week past came in the form of new shows, which I might have otherwise dutifully reviewed individually but will instead round up in one massive reality-show tirade.


moretoloveMORE TO LOVE: Ever since Fox began promoting this “The Bachelor for fat people” reality series, I’ve been waiting with something close to impatience for the show to debut. As it turns out, my gleeful anticipation was not in vain; More to Love is pretty much everything I hoped for, and then some (Get it? More?). About half of the premiere episode was devoted to meeting the 20 ladies who will be vying for the heart of real estate developer Luke. Ever-classy, Fox made sure to display not only participants’ names and occupations, but also heights and weights, because there’s no faster fast track to self-confidence than total disclosure. The cast showed considerable diversity; although all of the women are “big,” the body types range from unimpressively average to downright obese. Some had sob stories about being judged based on their appearances, others spoke pragmatically about the frustrations of being the overweight girl amongst skinny friends, and still others unabashedly claimed confidence in their full figure. One even joked that, as an Iowa native, she might teach our chubby bachelor “how to milk a cow.” I’m pretty sure no pun was intended, but kudos to Luke for not even cracking a smile. This show promises to induce both sympathy and laughter in equal measures.


meganwantsMEGAN WANTS A MILLIONAIRE: VH1’s answer to filling the Charm School time slot, Megan Wants a Millionaire is exactly what I would have come up with if asked to develop a new show with minimal innovation and maximum potential. Megan, of Rock of Love, Charm School and I Love Money fame (to say nothing of Playboy or Beauty and the Geek), has reprised her collection of barely-there bikinis and stripper dresses in an effort to woo some 20 bachelor millionaires, each of whom is either looking for love (unlikely) or expensive eye candy (probable). Though Megan’s high-pitched voice and minimal brain power make her contributions to the show satisfactory at best (VH1 was smart to keep the episodes at a half hour), the diversity and sheer desperation of the show’s men make it wildly entertaining. I have no doubt that Megan will oust one dud after another, starting with the heinously ugly and culminating with the elderly, crazy or retarded. In truth, there are only a handful of men participating who, wealth aside, might be in any way conceivable as romantic partners for any woman, let alone one of Megan’s physical attributes. That said, watching this rather pathetic cast of freaks court our model turned-reality-star is inherently satisfying; Megan, who had probably pictured a sea of gorgeous 30-something moguls, is instead doomed to at least a month of schmoozing with the detritus of the wealthy world. (See Donald).


realchance2REAL CHANCE OF LOVE 2: I suspect the first incarnation of this show was one of VH1’s most underrated reality endeavors. While dating competitions involving Daisy, Megan, or even Bret Michaels fail to amuse except in the completely exploitative sense, Real and Chance combine exploitation with, well, good old-fashioned comedy. There are key elements of this show’s premise about which I’m still unsure: Are Real and Chance even vaguely interested in actual love? Are The Stallionaires really musicians? Where do they find these women? But ultimately, none of the answers matter. Throw two dozen mentally unstable females in a ranch-themed house with two undeniably hilarious brothers—the first episode alone involved Real and Chance making Chewbacca noises at one suspiciously tall woman, and wondering aloud whether another’s “orange suit” (artificial tan) was affecting her brain power—and prepare for a televised masterpiece.

 
kira

2:31 PM on August 4th, 2009 | 

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Real Chance at Loving Charm

Filed Under: TV Reviews

charmschoolThey came, they loved, they fought, they lost. They left alone, returning to strip clubs, trailer parks and housing projects across the nation, where they waited with bated breath for the call: not from Real, or Chance, or Bret, not from their bill collectors or baby daddies, not from the repo man or Chinese delivery person. They waited for VH1, for the network of lost souls, to ring them up and say the words every past dating show contestant wants to hear: “Do you want to be on Charm School?”

And so the ladies of both Real Chance of Love and the third season of Rock of Love joined forces for the first-ever Charm School to combine casts from different VH1 series. Hosted by the wisely-chosen Ricki Lake, who has no shortage of experience fielding verbal outbursts from women without pride, class or dignity, the show ran very little risk of being bad – and so far, it hasn’t been.

Although last week’s season premier was perhaps a more logical time to give my review – and indeed, lived up to expectations with Rock of Love ‘tomboy’ Beverly getting booted for pulling the hair of borderline-crazy porn star ROL-er Brittaney Star – it’s good that I’m able to give a more comprehensive opinion after watching this week.

As was to be expected, the show’s “cast” quickly split down the middle – with the Real Chance girls in one clique and the Rock of Love girls in the other. There remain a few wayward stragglers – Real Chance’s KO seems far too boring to even be on TV, and Brittaney Star quickly latched on to the Real Chance girls to avoid the verbal harassment coming from her own former cast-mates. Bubbles, the notoriously moronic Real Chance contestant, has also come under fire from her own people – who seem bizarrely offended by the fact that she speaks like a little girl.

What Ricki Lake, and fellow judge LaLa, were quick to point out was how cleanly the divide between shows became a divide between races—the majority of Real Chance competitors are black, and the girls from Rock of Love brought “white trash” to a new low this year. In this way, this season of Charm School has somehow become VH1’s déclassé attempt to address race relations in the country: the Real Chance girls are flabbergasted by the alcohol-fueled arguments between ROL ladies, whose development of verbal skills clearly tapered off somewhere around high school. Meanwhile, the ROL crew stages a late-episode mutiny over their inability to “conversate” when Real Chance cast members are screaming at them, or at one-another, or at nothing. At the risk of succumbing to the types of racial stereotypes this show simultaneously mocks and enforces – the white girls are petty drunkards and the black girls’ debate skills are primarily measured by the volume of their voices. Read More ›

 
kira

2:00 PM on May 19th, 2009 | 

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Liveblogging* Daisy of Love

Filed Under: The Future Freaks Me Out

daisy-de-la-hoya-319x450*Editor’s note: “Live” can be taken figuratively. Episode started at 9:39 p.m. Delay can be credited to indecision between Chinese, Mexican and pizza. Decision: Mexican.

9:31 p.m. Jeff  Daniels is on the show. He has to be at least 35, but actually says “boner kill” in the first ten seconds.

9:45 p.m. Pocahontas.

9:52 p.m. VH1, having learned after the umpteenth manifestation of the “of love” series to maximize ridiculousness from the get-go, conducts the “naming ceremony” after the contestants have been drinking for at least an hour. Hilarity. Imagine a Fall Out Boy frat party.

9:54 p.m. Jeff Daniels says his name is Paulie, and reveals he’s from - shocker - the Jersey shore. Daisy likens him to a hatless Bret Michaels. I’m not sure who that’s insulting to.

9:56 p.m. There’s a male stripper - at least VH1 is equal-opportunity. He is appropriately nicknamed “Toolbox” and I’m not sure Daisy gets it.

9:58 p.m. “Cage” laments that his tattoo is always the first thing people notice about him. His tattoo is 2-inch letters spelling out “Fight or Die” on his NECK.

10:05 p.m. Daisy says “Swahili-ish.”

10:13 p.m. I remain unconvinced the Swedish triplets aren’t women. Daisy might agree, as she kicks them off almost immediately.

10:18 p.m. I see a preview for “Charm School with Ricki Lake.” I realize VH1 will literally never run out of material.

10:21 p.m. The slogan is revealed: ” ____, would you stay in this house and be my rock star?” Fairly lacking in innovation.

10:26 p.m. Jeff Daniels barely gets through elimination. I’m baffled.

10:28 p.m. Winners toast to Daisy out of flasks. Class all the way.

 
kira

9:44 PM on April 26th, 2009 | 

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Get Real

Filed Under: TV

So it’s been about a thousand years since my last post, and despite Aaron’s uncanny ability to pick up the slack when I’m sucking wind, I know in my heart of hearts that you all missed me. Similarly, I know by now that you are undoubtedly going through some sort of prolonged withdrawal from reality television coverage, a sobering process that involves no shortage of tremors and migraines, to say nothing of your reluctant need to find reading alternatives — things like “newspapers” and “books.”

Worry not, dear friends, I have returned - and with me (thanks to having cable installed literally as I moved into my new apartment) a smattering of reality updates, which should not only make up for lost time but leave us in a good position to weather the dearth of TV options available to us come spring. Ready your DVRs.


thumbkenley-100x100Project Runway: In case you don’t take a daily gander at the cover of the New York Post, former Project Runway finalist Kenley Collins was arrested this week for allegedly assaulting her boyfriend in the middle of their raucous breakup — with her cat. Yes, she threw her cat at him. Ironically the charge is for possession of a (feline) weapon, and not animal cruelty, and I’m all the more disheartened to find that coverage of this little spat made the front page, while the tragic death of Natasha Richardson was relegated to page 5. Although I guess the headline “Pussy whipped!” was too good to pass up as front-page fodder.


thumbtoughlove-100x100Tough Love: This “He’s Not That Into You”-esque VH1 venture premiered this past week, to the chagrin of anyone who thought the channel would ever stop creating celebrities out of idiots. The premise of the show is a second-generation matchmaker, who looks exactly like the lame kind of guy your parents would want you to bring home, helping eight women discover what it is they do wrong with men, and how to fix it. The first episode includes two different instances of the ladies being forced to watch “objective” males denigrate their physical appearance and pass snap judgments on their character, which is apparently supposed to help them understand how to become better. (Lesson No. 1: Lose 20 pounds?) Having just seen the actual He’s Just Not That Into You, which was both guiltily awesome and completely hypocritical (a ludicrous number of happy endings), I suspect this show’s shelf life is about the same as that of the movie: two hours.


thumbjersey-100x100The Real Housewives of New Jersey: Against my better judgment, I’ve been devouring the latest New York incarnation of this show; class wars, Long Island-accented gossip and all. So you can imagine my elation upon discovering that the much-anticipated New Jersey season is both real, and imminent. Debuting May 12, TRHOFNJ includes the typical mix of stay-at-home moms (read: perpetual shoppers) and self-righteous employed women, whose businesses are generally financed through whatever more lucrative profession their husband occupies. But considering the New York ladies are, both in character and geography, only a hop, skip and jump away from what I’d consider Jersey trash, I can’t even begin to fathom what women actually from the Garden State will do — but I suspect it will involve lots of hairspray.

 
kira

9:28 AM on March 19th, 2009 | 

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Tweet Feat

Filed Under: Pop Culture

tweetsSo I’ve discovered a way to accept Twitter. 

To clarify, I fought long and hard for this. I’ve been vehemently anti-Twitter since the get-go, finding it hard to drop my perception of the social-nonsense site as a means for people to share unnecessary information with their pathetic and woefully dependent friends. So it was with both trepidation and no small amount of resentment that I bit the bullet and signed up as part of a broader obligation to adapt new marketing techniques at work. Since then I have been trying to find a way to accept Twitter the way my grandfather only recently accepted DVDs - because eventually I’m just going to have to. Read More ›

 
kira

4:35 PM on February 13th, 2009 | 

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I Still Love Money

Filed Under: TV Reviews

il2Now past its infancy, reality television has in recent months become more and more like a pre-teen, both contemptuous of and utterly dependent on its parents. Recent incarnations of stalwart shows have thumbed their noses at the genre’s rapt audience; Fox Reality Channel’s slogan is actually “Blame yourself.” 

So it should come as no surprise that I Love Money 2 is even more meta than its predecessor, juxtaposing new levels of idiocy with tongue-in-cheeck attempts to be intelligent and timely. 

When host Craig J. Jackson introduces the first challenge - contestants must “swim” in a three-foot pool of smelly mud to grab as many gold coins as they can (original, I know) - he tells everyone to “root around like the greedy little pigs in the subprime mortgage market.” … Really Craig? Not only is the analogy completely unnecessary and out of context when you’re in Mexico, surrounded by bikini-clad money-hungry freaks, but this is hardly the right crowd. This is the same episode where contestant Tamara claims she would use the $250,000 prize money to buy a houseboat, which she would then sail around in …on the ocean.

Later on, Tamara adds that she has a phobia of water (which apparently extends to 3-foot-deep mud pits), then spazzes out during the elimination ceremony (during which, consequently, she is eliminated). After being booted, she proceeds to give the cast and assembled crew an eerily perceptive diatribe on their lacking morals:

“You’re a bunch of lying stupid idiots. You’re a bunch of assholes, the entire crew here. You manipulated and lied to me, you have no hearts and no souls. You humiliated me in front of national television, how dare you do this to me?! This is a bullshit show, you should be ashamed of yourselves, from [sic] exploiting these stupid fucking idiots. Fuck all of you, you’re a bunch of losers, and I’m a winner.”

On that last point, and on a couple of grammatical details, she’s wrong. But the message sounds a lot like what I’ll be mumbling to myself every Monday night at 9 p.m. for the next 13 weeks. Minus the manipulation, humiliation, lying and national television. For me it’s mostly about the stupid fucking idiots. Read More ›

 
kira

9:17 AM on February 4th, 2009 | 

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Rock of Love Butt

Filed Under: Screenshots From Kira's Television

dscn0151-450x337Remember how it made headlines - and by headlines I mean Gawker’s - when news emerged that the latest cast of  losers to populate MTV’s The Real World included the show’s first-ever post-op tranny? Well little does Viacom know that just one network over, another tranny - with a more sophisticated disguise - is in residence on VH1’s Rock of Love Bus.

Farrah (pictured), who made a name for herself on Day 1 with the memorable (and suggestive) declaration “I think when I’m drunk I’m a lesbian,” has since flown completely under the radar — primarily because the show only has room for one sarcastic and condescending bitch, a role Ashley has undertaken with impressive determination. Ironically, Ashley - if one will remember my initial post - herself looks like a post-op, but in a more tragic “I know you’re actually just a really unfortunate looking woman with a lot of makeup on” way. She proably got picked on as a child.

Back to Farrah. The ladies this past week took a trip to Chicago’s Horseshoe Casino, where Bret played a show at “The Venue,” which sounds (and looked) pretty decent until one takes a gander at The Venue’s upcoming performances, which include “Acrobatics of Hebei China,” Air Supply and something called “The Australian Bee Gees show.” God only knows where Bret would have been performing if he didn’t have a reality TV show.

The object of the challenge was to dismantle a stage and pack it away in a trailer, all while wearing impressively slutty lingerie ensembles, which weren’t specifically mandated but seemed to be all the girls’ interpretation of “dress to impress.” Farrah, for her part, pulled off a semi-one-piece - even with those broad shoulders and a suspicious lack of hips or butt.

Since I’m not really putting Farrah’s possession of a penis up for debate here - I’ve been 100% sure for at least two episodes - I’m more concerned at this point with when - and how exactly - Bret Michaels is going to make the discovery. Will it be soon - perhaps during a poorly timed swimming challenge? Or later, during one of his “overnight” visits? I can only hope it’s the former; considering how worked up Bret got last week over one girl’s alleged mockery of his hair extensions, I can only imagine the wrath that would stem from this sort of revelation. Every rose has its thorn indeed.

 
kira

4:45 PM on January 27th, 2009 | 

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