ROCK OF LOVE: BRET MICHAELS SQUANDERS WHAT LITTLE GOODWILL HE HAD LEFT
I didn’t write about Rock of Love last week, and even though this week’s episode was probably the best since the premiere – seriously, this show should have just been one long drinking contest among the ladies competing for Bret’s hand, with the last one not dead from alcohol poisoning declared the winner – I’m not that inclined to write about the latest installment, either.
Why? The answer is simple. I’m ready to see Lacey (above, taking the South Park movie a tad too literally), that “waste of sperm and egg,” as Dallas so poetically put it, get her comeuppance. And Bret, in a bid to prove to the world that, yes, your first impression when you initially saw the cover of Look What the Car Dragged In for was correct and he does, indeed, have a vagina, keeps giving her a “Get Out of Jail Free” card. Every week he allows her to stay while dismissing a hotter, nicer, slightly less medicated contestant, I find my desire to see Big John commit some kind of fucked up murder/suicide love triangle thing with Bret and Lacey grow stronger.
I mean, my girl Sam was actually pretty fuck nuts, as I’ve admitted before, and her constant crying and threatening to walk out was the most obvious cry for attention I’ve ever seen – she just wanted everyone to beg her to stay, and it worked. Until Bret finally booted her (not that that stopped her from sucking face with the dude for like fifteen solid minutes, as if to prove that, yes, she is just a big a whore as any chick in the house).
And I guess Brandi M. basically removed herself from the competition, too, when she finally told Bret that she just wouldn’t be able to let her guard down (Who the fuck can let their guard down on a reality show? Crazy people, that’s who.). And I didn’t have, like, any strong desire to see the porn star/stripper/whatever win anyways.
But come ON: letting Lacey stay in the house while Brandi and Sam – or, for that matter, Kristia, Erin, Faith, Mia, or, fuck it, even the super hot, super dumb Tamara or super slutty Brandi C. – are told to pack their shit is, uh… well, let’s just say this: I think that Bret Michaels needs to be tested for mental retardation on a Tommy Lee level (On a somewhat unrelated note, would someone please book Mr. Lee for Rock of Love 2? Pretty please?!?!).
Let’s look at some facts: Bret has admitted that Lacey is “crazy,” “‘manipulative,” and “malicious,” yet he has the cojones to scold Brandi M. for stepping up to the plate and being honest about her inability to continue on with the show, accusing her of “toying with people’s emotions.” The drama on this program is supposed to stem from watching sloppy drunk cat fights, not from Bret being self-righteous. Sheesh (And while we’re discussing sloppy drunk cat fights – who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to let Lacey drink when she has admitted that she’s on meds? Does the show’s crew think they’re somehow not going to Hell for not intervening just because it’s television? You’re not exactly journalists with an obligation to report without interference, you cum wads).
Of course, way back when I wrote about the first episode, I predicted that Tiffany – she of the “Don’t threaten me with a good time” catch phrase – would be to Rock of Love as Omerosa was to The Apprentice. And I was wrong – that’s a role, I suppose, that Lacey has now filled. Maybe Bret keeps her around because she’s actually a great lay (he openly fucked both her and Jes on yesterday’s episode). And maybe revenge will be that much sweeter the longer it’s delayed.
But that delay is also hurting the fun of watching the show. There’s just no suspense anymore: with Brandi M. and Sam now gone, we’re down to just Lacey, Heather, and Jes – and so it seems pretty obvious that Jes is gonna be the winner. I mean, Lacey is cancer on legs, and Heather is an stupid, scary coiffed, aging stripper – so only sweet natured, soft spoken, pink haired Jes is left… right? Or could Bret really be that fucking dumb?
While you ponder that question, enjoy this video of Lacey’s awful industrial band, Nocturne, performing their aptly named “Whore.”
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