Bromance: Like a Moth to a Flamer

***We weren’t gonna recap this show because of the bad taste left in our mouths by Paris Hilton’s new bff caca, but you requested it numerous times and then a little recap angel brought us a new baby! Please welcome the irresistible Twunty with Bromance!!

Hello, Gasmii! I am Twunty and I will be your guide as we traipse down L.A. way to enjoy the Slack-tacularly Douche-alistic Homo-erotic Dude-a-thon that is Bromance.

Brody Jenner, as most of you know, is the son of Bruce Jenner, was a onetime paramour of Lauren Conrad and has appeared on The Hills and Keeping up with the Kardashians. He is good looking, doesn’t look like he smells or has manscaping issues, has no trouble getting the ladies (no roofies required) and is about to have nine guys fall madly in love with him, hence the title. Okay, I lie, sort of. They just want to be his friend and have a little of that Brody magic rub off on them.

Every guy wants to be Brody. He is their Zen God, their snatch catching master and, more than likely, their fast track to reality TV fame. So here they are! Our Bromancers:

Luke

Beer drinking, Bahston accented regular guy. Why is he on this show? He’s likable and my personal pick to win Brody’s heart.

Jacob

He’s the shady fame seeker. The kind of guy who never buys his own cigs and takes money out of his mom’s purse. Oh, and he sells women’s shoes. I smell a virgin.

Jered

Missing 99.9% of his brain cells. Has a degree in Criminal Justice which means that this genius may arrest you some day. Unless he shoots himself first.

Femi

He thinks he’s got game, talks himself up to the sky, but you know there is a sweet kid in there who got beat up a lot because his parents named him FEMI! Further proof- he’s a nurse.

Chris P.

Seems like a sweet country boy but he is the president of his frat so he better have hi-jinks up his sleeves. He’s kind of bland. Like the guy your parents wanted you to marry.

Chris F.

Chris F. has the looks of the smartypants who helped you with your Calculus homework and was a great Biology partner but had zero sex appeal. Turns out that he wants to do stand-up. Make me laugh, kid! We’ll call him Neuter Boy.

Gary

He is the goofball of the bunch. He looks like Beeker crossed with Bozo with a healthy dose of Larry Appleton thrown in. AND he has a BFA in jazz dance. Oh. God. Help. us.

Alex

He’s a big lug. He has that I’m your big brother, I’m going to protect you vibe. Looks like every guy in every beer commercial, only less memorable.

Michael

Aka, Tweezerman. The token gay. Love him, but he better be doing drag on the weekends or there is no excuse for those eyebrows.

And we’re off. It starts off with a Swat Team style wake-up call that is priceless for two reasons- the pathetic half awake terror on almost everyone’s face and the embarrassment of morning wood. It seems very annoying and totally unnecessary which makes perfect sense, given the frat house atmosphere of it all. What’s next? Writing on people with Sharpies when they’re passed out? Hazing the boys with paddle spankings? (Thank you Brody, may I have another!)

So the Swat Team drags them into their low rent Bro-mansion wearing black hoods and underpants, to ensure their humiliation when they meet their Alpha male, Brody. Pleasantries aside, it is time for their first challenge, and surprise! It involves girls and lingerie. Something we all know that Broda knows a thing or two about. Teach you to get their panties off, I will!

First: My favorite thing about the house.

For those of you who had any doubt that this was a sausage fest.

Each guy must procure two girls from the mean streets if Los Angeles to attend a Fredericks of Hollywood lingerie party. The guy who brings the hottest girls wins. Sounds simple enough, right? Not so, Gasmii, not so. Girls in L.A. have standards, you know.

My beloved Tweezerman has no problem at all getting his hoes lined up because it is a crazy twist of nature that gay guys always get the best girls. Don’t believe me? Pick one as your wingman and you will never want for poonana ever again. Just be prepared to let him suck on your twig and berries every once in a while and learn to like poppers and Anderson Cooper and you’re all set.

On the other hand, the smack talking so-called lady’s men and the nerds are striking out spectacularly. Tweezerman to the rescue! He spots a Hooters restaurant and drags Beeker and Neuter Boy with him where they score some babes who have probably never met a random party or jell-o shot they didn’t like. Yay, nerds!

Jacob, though, has as much trouble as you would expect someone to have when they live in their Grandfather’s basement and smell women’s feet all day. All the lies in the world can’t save this fool, or get a girl to look at him without that “I have mace in my purse and I’m not afraid to use it” expression. I have a feeling this isn’t the first time he’s been looked at in that way, and it wont be the last. Until he comes out of the closet, of course. Then he’ll get all the chicks he can handle. (see above)

It’s back to the house where we get a shot of this fabulous new invention, The Can-fessional!

Baring your soul in front of a camera while you sit on the toilet is beyond genius. I believe that the minimum alcohol intake for anyone on a reality show is a liter of vodka and a twelve pack, so you can drink, piss, vomit, wipe your mouth and trash the other dudes all in one place! Thank you, MTV!

I haven’t mentioned Frankie or Sleazy T up to this point because they are hangers-on who, frankly, bore me. And I don’t buy the hissy fit that Frankie threw about not getting why Brody needed another friend when he already had Frankie, his bestie in the whole wide world. Frankie was smiling the whole time! Frankly, Frankie needs some acting lessons. Enough Franks for ya? If not, there’s still this one:

Please, oh please let there be a hotdog eating contest next week.

Gary’s all excited to be on TV! Watch him emote!

Seriously, can someone remake the TV show “Perfect Strangers” for this guy?

On to the lingerie party. Once again, the nerds smoke the dudes. And Brody is surprisingly nice in this bit. Likable, even. He doesn’t come off as the least bit condescending or mean. Gee, I hope this changes. What am I supposed to do with nice? God did not make me snarky for Brody effing Jenner to mess it up! There’s still time, I guess.

At the nine o’clock deadline there are only two guys with no girls that showed up. Femi and fratboy Chris P. I hope they don’t cry. Wait. Yes I do. But they don’t. Drat.

After enough T&A shots to make Joe Francis proud, they are all asked to make a toast to Brody. Somebody raps, somebody break dances, Jacob drops f-bombs like the drunken tool he is, and Luke wins the challenge by bringing the hottest girls (disputable) and Chris P. had the coolest t-shirt (undeniable):

I’ll take two, size small, please.

Here comes the sad part. I was soooo looking forward to week after week of Tweezerman showing the breeders how it’s done, but he bailed! He was expecting Lauren Conrad and got Eric Stratton instead. I choose to look on the bright side. When a show is too homoerotic for the gay guy, you know you have reality TV gold. Goodbye, Tweezerman! I’ll miss you. Like a moth to a flamer, my friend!

Moving along, we head on over to the Bro-Pad, a Penthouse of ridiculous proportions, for eliminations. HOT TUB eliminations. They file into the water one by one creating a soup of squirming, beyond uncomfortable, half naked straight guys who are scared to death that they might accidentally touch one another. They stare at their Alpha Male with wide eyed worship, pleading for mercy. Let me stay, let me stay! And it looks like they actually mean it.

It comes as no shock that it’s bye-bye Jacob. He scaled new heights of dislike-ability and fooled no one into thinking he was remotely sincere. So it’s back to Granddaddy’s basement to play with your collection of ladies shoes and to dream of not being such a massive tool someday. Here’s hoping.

What did everybody think? I was surprised that I liked it and hope to recap the next one in a more timely matter, which means tomorrow. Love and kisses, Twunty McSlore