Bromance: Step Away From the Bedazzler, or WWRSD?

“You think this is good, wait till you see what I do with their dignity!”

Holy indifference, Batman! I’m clutching my pearls in shock because no one, not a single bro, cried this week! How did this happen? Perhaps it’s like that first week at college where you’re terribly homesick and can’t wait to see your mom and sleep in your own bed at home and seven days and five keg parties later, you can’t remember your home phone number. Whatever it is, the boys put away the hankies this week for some good old fashioned humiliation courtesy of hideous jeans and a bitchy bunny.

As we know from the previews, Brody has lined up a hoax for this week. It involves the aforementioned bedazzled jeans that only the douchiest of Ed Hardy/Smet douchebags would wear, and a little walk on the red carpet to promote them. But first things first. We head off to the spa at Sofitel for a little manscaping! Do guys in L.A. seriously go to spas and get mani-pedis? Has metrosexuality taken over our big cities? I understand waxing a hairy back or a unibrow but if my man comes home with shinier nails than mine I’d have to go all Clockwork Orange on his ass and lock him in the basement with his eyelids peeled back watching a constant stream of Clint Eastwood movies until he begs for mercy. Only then would he get his man card back.

As “Pretty Girls” plays in the background, the boys line up at the manicurist’s table because Brody woke up that morning and asked himself, “What would Ryan Seacrest do?” They all submit good naturedly and Luke sings “a nip nip here and a clip clip there,” no doubt preparing himself for a future in musical theater and a beating from all the boys back at the local bah back in Bahston. He can always take Neuter Boy home with him so he can distract the guys with his pathetic comic styling.

A Filipino, two douchebags and Bahston Luke walk into a bar……..and get their asses kicked.

Three of the guys finish up quickly but Bahston Luke isn’t so lucky. Oh, no. In a scene not at all reminiscent of The 40 Year Old Virgin, he is brought onto a room for a little chest wax job. He chooses this moment to say goodbye to his nipples by playing with them.

“If I rub them three times, will I be home again?”

He lays down on the table and proceeds to recite every single line that came out of Steve Carrell’s mouth but adds his own little zinger about needing a mouthpiece or something to bite down on to deal with the pain. How about you kiss my ass instead, sucka? Now you know what it feels like, what we women endure so that we look like 14 year old girls down there and you don’t have to worry about getting any of those nasty pubes in your mouth. And may I suggest simulated childbirth next? I’ll do the episiotomy!

Once they’re done with their spa trip they head off to the penthouse to try on the jeans for Beth, the fake jeans designer. She looks like one of those ladies that read Tarot cards at the Jersey Shore or the local crazy wiccan lady who makes dolls out of squirrel fur and Navajo beads, and only eats food that starts with the letter ‘P’. (Thanks, mom! It was fun growing up with a diet of peanuts, possum and prairie dogs!)

Neuter Boy looks extremely uncomfortable. A lifetime of playing Nintendo only prepared him for evenings with a flashlight and a well-worn copy of Juggs, not wearing jeans that even an African orphan would refuse to put on. Luke is told that he can’t wear underwear with them and he remarks that if he wore those jeans at home, his boys would give him an old school beatin’. Methinks you’ll be getting that beating anyway, Chowdah Head. We have a shot of Alex’s butt crack that I could do without and Femi gamely tries them on before realizing that his Lion doesn’t quite fit in the cage. Here’s hoping that they all got shaved back at the spa because there’s nothing fun about getting your carpet stuck in a zipper. At least they don’t have to worry about their balls getting stuck. Brody took those away before the second episode.

The ghost of Liberace threw up in The Gap again.

Brody and SleazyT have set up a hidden camera in the makeup room so they can watch the guys talk about how they really feel about the jeans and the hot pink belly exposing tanks they’ve been forced to wear. Alex tells the makeup artist that he just doesn’t get it, then goes out on the patio with brody and tells him that the jeans make him feel like a rock star. See where we’re going with this, kids? Umm hmm. It is obviously a test to see who will be honest. A test more suited to jealous Junior High School girls who tell their prettier friend that she looks grest in cullottes before laughing behind her back.

There’s more of the same kind of bullshit from Neuter Boy and Bahston doesn’t flat-out say he dislikes them but tells Brody that he’ll wear them on the red carpet to show his support. Femi is freaking. He tells the makeup artist that he’s not used to such tight pants and he takes them off. Wait. What was that? I think I just heard a testicle drop! I didn’t know he had it in him! Femi tells Brody how he feels and Brody feeds him a line about how they’ve done research in Europe and it turns out that men in Paris don’t mind having their manhood choked by rhinestones. Femi argues like a true friend with no feeling below the waist, and BJ pretends to be pissed at him, says he has to take a phone call and runs down the hall giggling like a girl. But not before telling him not to bother putting them back on. Awwww, Femi’s sad. And no one wants a sad Femi. He might get frustrated and do something embarrassing, and no one wants that, oh wait. Never mind.

We’re off to the red carpet where the Hangers-On are already ensconsed with an E! television crew and Ted Casablancas for the interviews. The boys arrive in limos, one by one, for their first ever ride on the crimson wave that has been surfed by many a reality retard, to the point that it doesn’t quite have the same meaning it did back when the stars who walked it actually did something to get there. Femi mans up and does his best martial arts poses and spews pablum to anyone who puts a microphone in front of him. It’s Femi the kung fu dragon! He’s “always in my Brody’s” and it’s “BJs all the way!”

Little do you know, my friend, little do you know.

Alex walks the carpet like he’s on a construction site, beer belly and all. Neuter Boy flexes his non-muscles and Bahston charms Ted with his list of euphemisms for a thong. Seriously, did he sit around one day with nothing to do but come up with “cherry chokah, grape smugglah and anahcahndah in ah tequilah jah?” Little boys of Boston, here is your future:

“Ah gots a gerkin undah this jerkin.”

It’s commercial time and on comes an ad for Friday the 13th. Your a week late, Jason! And here’s my latest rant on truth in advertising. If I see one more commercial for miracle mascara that gives you lashes “out to there,” I’m gonna just burn mine off. Every damn model is wearing false eyelashes! If you want me to buy your mascara I want to see real lashes, not something that even a drag queen would find extreme. Okay. I feel better now.

Back to our boys who are standing around in Kitson, a Beverly Hills boutique that sells overpriced garbage to the underweight masses. Brody finally reveals the ‘broax’ and says that the whole point of this exercise was to find out who’s honest and who isn’t (Whoa! We didn’t see that coming, did we Gasmii?). Femi wins because he’s “keepin’ it real,” (that phrase needs to die) and he wins an overpriced crap outfit of his choosing courtesy of the aforementioned Shitson. And then he jizzed in his pants.

“Um, Brody? Where’s the section for dragon/lion/pussies?”

They’re off for a night of clubbing, still wearing the stupid outfits, except for Femi. There are plenty of bimbos, breakdancing and some dude DJing on his Mac. All the guys cluster around the bar and come to the consensus that if they pretend like they’re foreign they might be able to pick up some chicks in those clothes. Good luck with that. Femi’s look isn’t much better, as he’s wearing the shirt he picked out that reads double douche from a million miles away, “Scandalous Social Club.” Oy. Spectacular.

Luke makes a comment about how it’s “pretty hahd to pick ahp dah ladies when yah naht workin’ wit too much bulge in dah pants.” Cut to an immediate shot of Neuter Boy.

“But it’s one foot, three inches! Ask Brody!”

Femi gets trashed and makes out with some flat ironed haired skank (oh. my. god. someone got some action!) and then drunkenly predicts from here on out “nothin’ but sussess,” because he got to touch boobies! All by himself! Scandalous!

The next scene is back at the Bro-mansion where there’s some stupid drama about the Alex/Bahston lovey dovey alliance. Neuter Boy says that he and Femi need to stick together and break up their little budding Bromance. And how, exactly, does little NB mess with Bahston? He moves the BMX bike on the lame-ass mini golf course into one of the holes. Couldn’t the producers come up with anything better than that? What’s next? Titty twisters? Fake spiders and rats under their covers? LAME!

Brody has one more little challenge up his sleeve and it involves Playmates! We’re back at the penthouse where condescending Jayde and fembot Kelly are waiting. Jayde will talk to the boys individually and try to emasculate them with minimum bloodshed. Femi goes first and says that she’s “at the top of her peak.” Wtf? Don’t they teach cliches 101 in high school these days? He tells her that he’s a bartender back home and proceeds to spill a drink he’s trying to pour, all over the place. He feeds her strawberries with all the finesse of Inspector Clouseau and then boohoos about his girlfriend cheating on him.

Luke completely freezes up, literally. She asks him if he’s nervous and he says no, he’s just cold. She offers to get him a blankie and you can see him mentally go into a fetal position and stay there. Wow. Another epic fail.

Alex talks some gibberish with her and when that fails, he grabs a guitar and decides to bore her to death.

I bet that 80 year old Hefner cock is starting to look good right about now.

Neuter Boy must have some beer fueled confidence because Jayde actually seems to like him. She tells him that she likes nerds and he comes off as sweet and even slightly endearing. I’m starting to realize that I totally got it wrong last week when I predicted Femi or Neuter boy to go home. They actually stepped up while the other two thought that they could skate by.

Brody comes downstairs, pretending to button his shirt like he just got laid with the blonde Playmate, and has a convo with Jayde.

She picks NB as the winner and they head off to the hot tub for a little pretend hanky panky. He says that his confidence has been boosted up to 1,000% (there’s no such thing, people, so stop saying that!) and he gets a little neck massage from the fembot. He looks pretty excited to be with two girls that may or may not have touched octagenerian peen, and I think it took all his strength not to jizz in his trunks. Not that he’d actually make a move on one of these girls and that’s a good thing considering the 1,000% chance of an STD.

“God, I hope they remembered the chlorine!”

The next thing you know, Neuter Boy’s no doubt gotten his shots and we’re in a Japanese restaurant for the elimination ceremony. Brody picks Femi and NB as safe and we’re left with our little love birds, Luke and Alex, shaking in their boots and probably holding hands under the table. Alex tries to save himself by bringing up their shared love of playing (cough, cough, retch!) music, but it’s just not enough and Brody sends him home.

“But I can play the flute, Brody! The skin flu……..”

No time for that now, Alex, as two cooks throw him out with the trash.

Where every episode of this show belongs.

I’m sure you all enjoyed the Alex/Bahston homoerotic montage set to “Crazy” by Aerosmith as much as I did, and that should prepare you for the bad news I have to share with you now.

Only one more week of Bromance. Let it out, Gasmii, have a good cry, but remember, we get lie detector tests and Brody’s mom next week! And visits to all their hometowns!Yay! Can you stand it? I hope I don’t pee my pants! Love and kisses, Twunty Mcslore