Remember The Savage... Skidmark - 
by
Early Sunday evening, after I enjoyed a few pops with EdHill at my favorite local watering hole watching my Uconn Huskies advance to the Sweet 16, I ate some dinner and dozed off in my comfy living room chair. A few hours later I was awoken by the plaintive wails of my 2-month old son, baby-dub.
"Daaa-liii," he mused, "Daaa-liiiii!" Whatever, I thought; he's just testing out a new sound. Awakened, I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock to see what time it was - Whoa! In my beery sleep-deprived state, the clock appeared to be melting off the wall! Totally freaked, I looked around and noticed the windows had gotten very small. "Daaa-liii," baby-dub continued. Oh... Wait... That's right, it was time for another season of VH1's Surreal Life and my genius son was simply reminding me not to miss the premiere. And boy, am I glad he remembered - because my weekend wouldn't have been complete without seeing a prosthetic boob, a bunch of washed up coke-heads, and a skidmark for the ages.
Yes folks, it's back. Making lemonade out of a lemon, after the jump.
Towards the end of the last "Surreal Life" I told myself I would never watch - let alone recap - this show again. I grew to hate Omarosa and Janice Dickenson so much that it was affecting my personal life. But then I remembered the halcyon days of Corey Feldman in the first season. Flashes of Mini-Me peeing in the corner and Chyna high on some drug cocktail sparked in my brain. Memories of Vanilla Ice carrying Gary Coleman around a diner and visions of Webster's and MC Hammer's goofy piousness made me realize what this show couldbe. And so... I'm in. For now.
The latest incarnation, however, has a rather glaring problem: Who the frick gives a crap about these people? Radio host Wendy Williams did a voice-over welcome and introduced us to this season's greeter - Jimmy Pardo. Jimmy Pardo? Yeah, me neither. But the joke is on us - Mr. Pardo was on an episode of "Becker" in 2000 and that, my friends, is the pinnacle of comedy. Anyway, Pardo was following in the footsteps of Andy Dick and Kathy Griffin so I guess he'll be updating his imdb profile soon enough.
The first arrival was Sherman Helmsley who made his mark as George Jefferson in the 70's. "The Jeffersons" was a damn funny show, and George's constant insulting of Bentley, Tom, and Flo was classic television. So I'm down with Sherm - especially since he apparently embraces his claim to fame and gave us viewers a "Weezy" shout-out. I found it weird that the show's producers captioned his speech, as I totally understood him at the outset.
The next to arrive was the washed up 80's Whitesnake video vixen, Tawny Kitaen. She declared that she hadn't had a drink in her life but quickly reminded us that she did enjoy cocaine and other hard drugs for years. Looking at her now compared to her drug-fueled days of yore, I can't think of a better endorsement for the nose candy. I can now also understand how she gave ex-husband Chuck Finley a good fight and why Maaco would love for her to roll over every car hood in town. Oi vey. She did greet Helmsley as "George," which gave me an unexpected chuckle.
Continuing the theme of 80's hair band has-beens, Poison guitarist CC Deville descended upon the mansion with his orange man-tan and Susan Powter hairdo. He, too, immediately admitted to past hard drug use and claimed to now be clean. (Aside: Did anyone else see CC on "Rock n Roll Jeopardy" a few years ago? I've never seen anyone so high on TV in all my life - a classic moment.) He met the other two guests and referencing his druggie past exclaimed, "Wow, we're in unchartered territory now!" Um... No, CC, you're not. In fact, YOUR DRUGGIE HISTORY IS WHY YOU'RE ON THIS STUPID SHOW!
Then Sherman Helmsley muttered some unintelligible gibberish. He's kind of like the Don Vito guy on "Viva la Bam."
Some guy named Steve Harwell drove up and declared, "I love to drink and snort cocaine and get hookers." Apparently being the lead singer of two-hit wonder Smashmouth doesn't get you laid for free. Either that or Steve Harwell is just a giant tool. Or both. He met CC and exchanged rehab stories and grumbled about the fact that hey now, he really might not be an All Star after all. So sad.
Edgar Lives!
Up next was some girl named Andrea Lowell. Yes, the Andrea Lowell. Apparently she's appeared in Playboy a few times and has been on Playboy TV - the worst channel ever. Does softcore porn appeal to anyone other than Camille Paglia and pre-teen boys who have yet to see real porn? (No.) So Andrea, what's your story? "I love to drink and get drunk and if you don't drink, go read your bible." Hmmm, this could be interesting after all. Just as I was beginning to warm up to the harlot, a blurb at the bottom of the screen said, "Nicknamed 'Dirty Harry' for not always shaving her legs." Nice.
Andrea greeted Tawny and they bounded off to the girl's bedroom. "How do I know the dark guy... The tan guy," asked Andrea.
"He was on the Jeffersons," replied Tawny, in the best unintentional comedy moment of the night. (Andrea was asking about CC, referring to his ridiculous man-tan.)
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