ROCK OF F*CKING B.S.
Granted, I only saw the first few episodes of the trashiest “reality” show on TV about finding one’s soul mate in this overwhelming, mixed-up world of fake tits, manic depression, and RAWK. But I took my extended hiatus from Rock of Love 2 expecting that Poison frontwoman Bret Michaels would at least pick the coolest or the hottest chick in his cadre of bangable sluts.
Homeboy did neither.
Randomly caught the final 15 minutes of the season finale (because yes — there will be another) of ROL2 last nite, and was basically shocked to find out who the remaining
bangable sluts contestants were: Daisy, the silicon’/tatt’d squeaker who LOOKS LIKE SHE COMES FROM ANOTHER PLANET (seriously — does anyone really find her attractive? Bitch be so weird looking), and Ambre, the most wholesome of the entire bunch from the get-go (and not in a cute farmer’s daughter kind of way — this girl has lame/tame country bumpkin written all over her).
I wish I knew what happened to the chix I thought were the coolest/most interesting/sexiest, and yet, of course, I actually could give a flying fudge. They are but a distant memory of what could’ve been. I am, however, disappointed enough to voice my concern that Mme. Michaels is a bigger numbskull than I had realized.
For shame, fool!
The, ahem, lucky lady
The reject — banished back to The Dark Crystal
Some other chick that Michaels prolly should’ve picked