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After the entertaining masterpiece that was last week’s episode, this week was a bit of a let-down. The producers thankfully agreed with me and to keep it from being all about Cage’s Stage 4 drunken behavior and Fox’s unimaginable depths of duncehood, so we got a little skunk action. This time the real thing, not just London’s body odor. Zing! Let us begin.
The sun rises on Casa de Yacka, birds are singing, flowers are swaying and our heroine is just opening her eyes on a new day filled with the promise of finding true love. Or at least getting rid of one more loser. She looks sweet, all cuddled up with her pink teddy bear, until she opens her mouth and calls London an asshole. Right in Teddy’s ear! It’s a good thing that Mr. Peepers wasn’t there or he’d have a thing or two to say about swearing in front of poor innocent stuffed animals! He would never do such a thing. How do I know?
TT, Fox and Cage are chatting about London being gone and how he was the front runner and where does that leave the rest of them? Angry, I guess? Yeah, what the hell? Cage should be glad, as should the rest of them. It opens the field back up, not to mention that they can breathe fresh air in the house again. For now.
It’s at moments like these, that make absolutely no sense, that I feel the puppet strings of the producers at work. Anger and violent outburst bring the drama, and Cage is already getting pissed for no reason when a little voice from the top bunk saves him from looking like a total jackass and gives him ample reason to go off. It’s Mr. Peepers and he asks them to move to another room because, like most wee primates, he is high strung and must have his nappy poo. Cage tells him to STFU because he wakes everybody up in the morning with his screeching and oo-oo-ah-ah crap and couldn’t he just move in with Paris Hilton? I hear she killed her last pet monkey and is looking for a new one to neglect to death.
Anyway, here’s the outcome of Cage’s rage:
Oopsy! He almost got knocked out of his tree. Poor Peepers. I hope that he had a good hold on his bananas. By the way, who else thinks that TT looked completely stoned during these hijinks? The Chinister One must have found whatever Flipper left behind and it looks like it was the good shit. That’s probably why he didn’t come to the aid of Peepers. He didn’t want to harsh his mellow.
After this foreshadowing of violence to come, Big Rig hatches an idea in that redneck brain of his and I’m surprised that no one has thought to do this yet. He takes Daisy a delicious breakfast to help her dispel the bad vibes left from London’s departure. It seems that all it takes to get Daisy off to a good start in the morning is coffee…
I guess that he was under the impression that Daisy was a Keebler elf or a six year old. In the right light I can see how he could make that mistake. But the cool thing is that he actually did something nice for her and on her part, she doesn’t look half bad without all the eye makeup and pink lipstick. She almost looks human. Ooooo! I just got an idea! They can remake that ‘Mannequin’ movie starring Daisy as a blow-up doll come to life! It could make millions on straight to DVD and star 12 Pack as her love interest with Fox as their deaf, dumb and blind hot neighbor. And it would have to be a porno. And Heather gets a cameo. Call me, Hollywood! I’m sure I could whip up a script for you in no time.
Everybody gathers to find out what their next humiliation will be and Riki Fonzarelli informs them that they will be participating in a photo shoot. I must admit to being disappointed. I was so sure that this was the week with the cage match, what with the anger issues already on display. I also think that any of the big four (12 Pack, 6 Gauge, Big Rig and Flex) could probably kick Cage’s ass. He looks so out of shape again. I hope they don’t ask him to hold up a light or reflector or anything during the shoot because I don’t know if his atrophied arms can handle it.
The photo shoot is for the CD cover of Daisy’s future iTunes number one hit, “Pretty Messed Up.” There are two teams of four-
Team One: Big Rig, Mr. Peepers, 12 Pack and Cage.
Team Two: 6 Gauge, TT, Fox and Flex.
There are tons of clothes and accessories and an entire table of Manic Panic products. Who’s taking bets on how much of that crap finds its way into TT’s possession after this challenge?
The third judge this week is Bree Krystal Clarke, a rock photographer with a British accent. She doesn’t look like a whore or slur her words like Taylor did last week so I’m going to assume that she’s not one of Daisy’s besties. That’s too bad. She’s not giving me anything to work with so let’s move on to TT.
Oh, Chinister One, you are going to be so happy when you see what they did to you this week. He bragged about wanting to art direct the shoot because he did his own album cover (what doesn’t this guy do? other than sleep with women, that is) and he’s so experienced and yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, keep jacking yourself off because you got OWNED by the editor/producers.
One of the guys from each group gets to pose with Daisy and group one picks 12 Pack. Cage picks himself to be the photographer and tells Mr. Peepers that he will be doing hair and makeup.
On team two Fox thinks that he should be the model because he’s a hairstylist. Zip it, bub. They chose Flex, most likely because he has a great body, plus they want Fox to do the HAIR, duh, and it would be a good idea if he stayed as far away from the rest of the process altogether.
TT takes over the art direction and 6 Gauge will be the photographer. They set up their sleazy set and Fox goes on about how it should be as dark as possible and as light as possible. I think that he meant that the colors should be deep and the lighting should be bright but the poor kid doesn’t have the first clue as to how to communicate that. The other guys just look at him like he’s completely clueless.
I doubt that any of these guys have been on a real photo shoot or can be trusted styling Daisy. That’s why I’m relieved that there are three stylists there to help them, including a guy who does hair. You would think that with as much time as these guys spend getting themselves dolled up they wouldn’t need it but remember, this is for the cover of Daisy’s single. It’s going to be in the Rock Hall one day, it must be perfect!
Big Rig’s team has her decked out like Marilyn Monroe with a flapper style dress and an upswept bob hairdo. She looks good, though she’s certainly no Marilyn, and 12 Pack seems really comfortable in front of the camera with her. Too comfortable. He keeps making out with her, smearing her lipstick and getting between her and the lens. Mr. Angry Cage Fighter is getting all pissy about having to watch them go at it so he stops taking pictures and storms off. Sorry, dude. Maybe if you didn’t have a freaking tattoo on your face you’d be the one making out with Daisy. Yeah, sure. As if he’s anywhere near as good looking as 12 pack.
Don’t you worry, though because Mr. Peepers picks that camera right up. He has absolutely no problem watching Daisy make out with 12 Pack. As long as it’s not TT, he could take pictures all day long.
6 gauge’s team is putting the finishing touches on their messy rock whore set and Fox takes over for the hairstylist. He makes out with her between putting pink and black extentions in her hair so it seems that finally he found something he’s good at. Keep his hands and mouth busy and he’s almost tolerable.
Daisy likes the vibe of this team better than the other one and it’s not hard to see why. She gets to act like a whore and pose with her legs spread. We all know how much she enjoys THAT.
Flex is posing in the background and he finally takes his shirt off and starts interacting with her. It’s pretty hot until they start sharing some gum. Vomit bucket, don’t fail me now.
This is all too much for Fox who just can’t stand around behind the scenes when there’s a camera around, being such a good looking guy and all. It would be a crime to waste all that good lookingness. Plus he’s been swilling soda from a wine glass and is amped up on caffeine. The dude is bouncing off the walls. So he takes off his shirt and slides in behind Daisy for his close-up and he will not stop staring at the camera no matter how many times TT asks him not to. He’s making love to the camera like they’re the only two in the room. Him and the camera, of course. Daisy’s just a prop.
It’s judging time and team one is up first. Riki compliments them on a job well done and it does look professional. The camera angle is good and they did capture some of that Marilyn feel, as judge Bree says.
Daisy loves it and then Fox opens his Mensa mouth and asks, “Who’s Marilyn Monroe?” Is their no end to this? It’s like his brain is made of teflon, it’s a miracle he can speak. You have to wonder if he inhaled too many perm chemicals or if this is just God’s way of reminding us that looks aren’t everything. Either way, if he gets Alzheimers when he’s old how will anyone be able to tell? It’s a mystery.
6′s team captured much more of a rock-n-roll feel which Fox tries to explain and we fall down the rabbit hole once again. My head is actually hurting from trying to decifer what he said. I’d take some Advil but I’m only going to throw it up in a couple of minutes so why bother.
Bree says that not enough of her body is showing. I think that the rock picture suits her better than the other photo, especially given the title of the song.
Daisy does too and she picks team two as the winner. There’s an MVP of the team this round and that person gets to spend alone time with Daisy, and the winner is……Fox? TT should have won. Hate to say it but he’s right when he says that he’s not getting the credit he deserves. But guess what? She wants to have sex with Fox, not you, so why in the hell would she pick you to go on a solo date with her? So you can do each other’s nails while Peepers skeeves on you from behind a potted plant? Don’t think so.
Somewhere in that teensy brain of his, Fox has connected this MVP moment with fifth grade when they gave out awards in Special Ed like MVP of Not Drooling and President of the I Don’t Pee My Pants Anymore club and he runs up to collect his trophy. Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph. If I had been this dumb my parents would have dropped me off at John Wayne Gacy’s house a long time ago. But then again, I was born exceptionally gorgeous too, so they probably would have just entered me in the Miss California USA Pageant. I believe in opposite marriage and showing my titties too!
He literally asks where he should walk to so he can retrieve his reward. Are the major hospitals doing brain transplants yet? Because I think we have our first patient here. Daisy knows this, but she doesn’t care. With the way the mass exodus from this show has been going she’ll pick anyone that shows her an ounce of attention. It would be sad- if I actually gave a damn. But that’s never going to happen so let’s follow our living brain fart and watch him do something else he’s good at doing.
There’s a scene interspersed here of Cage tellin TT that he’s getting worn down by the whole process of being on the show but I watched the outtakes and I’m pretty convinced after seeing his drunken display that he was playing up most of this ‘emotion’ stuff for the cameras. So, take it with a grain of salt, Gasmii. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe that he has some major anger issues but he isn’t crying over Daisy. He’s crying over his lost muscle mass. Get your ass back in the gym, big tough fighter boy, then maybe I’ll buy more of the crap you’re spewing every episode.
Okay. I’ve taken a big, cleansing breath, pulled up the barf bucket and now I’m ready for the big date. Daisy is wearing a Grecian toga dress that would make a concubine blush and leads Fox into a room where a makeshift temple has been set up.
Wow. This is some low budget shit right here. It makes Flavor of Love look like it was styled by Jean Cocteau. But that’s not the worst of it. They might as well be in an empty room or a padded cell with the way the conversation overshadows everything around them.
Daisy asks him what he is looking for in a gal and he replies that he needs someone who wants to go out when he wants to go out. Somehow this translates in his mind to them being a power couple. The two of them couldn’t power the batteries in my penlight, not on a really good day.
He says that he can conversate but that he’s also good at something called ‘silent speaking.’ Well, Zeus just struck me cross eyed because I am having trouble focusing when this Greek Clod speaks. I feel as confused as Daisy looks but she figures out that the only way to stop the seepage of brain cells in the room is to kiss him. I am still feeling dumber by the moment so excuse me while I go watch a Kelly Bensimon/Ramona highlight reel so I can clear my head. Meanwhile, here’s a picture of Daisy before and after plastic surgery. Enjoy!
I’m back. That’s better.
He pulls out of the kiss and before Daisy can take a breath he is telling her how many brothers he has. Are they punking her for real this time? Where’s Ashton Kutcher? Are they on Candid Camera? This cannot be real. How do the cameramen keep a straight face? ‘Congratsmeathead,’ you said that you were a psych student in last week’s comments, so what are we dealing with here? What is wrong with him? Is he developemently disabled? Did his mom suffer from Munchhausen Syndrome by Proxy like that mom in the Sixth Sense and he just ate a lot of Drano stew as a kid? Let me know what you think. I could use the help.
The date is finally over and Cage is still pouting in the pool room. He says that he’s putting up a wall to protect his feelings from getting hurt, and that wall is made up of Vodka and Amp energy drink so we’ll see how long that lasts.
All the guys are drinking by the pool, messing around when a little creature starts creeping around the pool. Is that Mr. Peepers in a skunk suit, playing a frisky little trick? No, it’s a real skunk and it’s headed for the house. I have to hand it to the producers, they are clever. They saw everyone getting drunk as a skunk every night and decided to see how a drunk actually handles a skunk. Not all that well, as it turns out.
They corner the poor critter in the dining room and it sprays the immediate vicinity. 12 Pack tries to trap it in the kitchen and he gets a face full for his efforts.
Have you ever experienced this? My dog got it in the face last fall and the ENTIRE HOUSE reeked. We had to wash her several times and crate her in a closed room for a week. You are supposed to use tomato or orange juice but the dog just shakes it off and gets it all over you and the walls. I found that a mixture of dish soap and baking soda works much better. The spray is lethal and stays in the air for a long, long time. They should use this stuff in chemical weapons if they haven’t already.
It is also a very nauseating smell and Big Rig starts heaving after 12 Pack tries to clean himself off in the tiny kitchen sink. Considering how much booze has been consumed by everybody, it’s no surprise that a puking chain reaction is in order. What is a surprise is that I am not feeling the urge to throw up at all. I’m enjoying this. Then Fox comes into view in his droopy drawers. He’s such a good looking guy but he can’t afford a nice pair of underwear? Blech. He has a tiny ass. I could fit each of his ass cheeks in my neice’s dollhouse teacups.
Finally Big Rig pulls it together and gets the varmint into the trash can and sets it free in the backyard. Leave it to a real redneck to figure out how to remedy the situation. He might as well have killed it, though. Pepe le Pew is going to need some therapy after being around these guys. He’s going to find his other skunk friends, they’re going to get one whiff of the booze vomit that is no doubt clinging to him as much as his stench is clinging to 12 Pack, and want nothing to do with him.
The next day TT, Flex and 6 Gauge get a field trip with Daisy to a place called Skatelab. TT is all excited because he thinks that it’s a roller rink and he can finally get some use out of the leg warmers and feather boa he stole from the photo shoot but, alas. It’s for skateboarding.
None of them know how to skateboard and I’m wondering where these guys grew up. If your town had asphalt and/or paved roads, you kick, kick, push, pushed all the live long day. Heck, even I know how to skateboard. Even Daisy does. Flex lets out a “You have got to be f**cking shitting me,” and I have to say the same thing.
At least he tries. He goes to the tallest ramp in the place and wipes out halfway to the bottom. He sustains a nasty cut on his palm but I’ll give him an A for effort. They sit down for a lunch of pizza and Champagne, something that I’m not unfamiliar with. Back in the early nineties I had a friend in new York who would bring over a bottle of Dom, which wasn’t enough to get us all drunk, so before the pizza arrived, we’d run to the liquor store and pick up a bottle of vodka to mix with the Champagne. The bubbles would speed that alcohol straight to your brain so we named this libation a Spark Plug. Good times, good times. Bad mornings, bad mornings.
6 Guage is being very quiet during this delicious meal so Daisy takes him aside to find out why. He rattles off his resume instead of actually telling her what is wrong. He’s older and he thinks that he’s too mature for this crap. Then why are you here? Oh, that’s right. The wang.
It turns out that Flex has already seen the eigth wonder of the world and he tells her about it in the limo on the way home. Cue up another epileptic orgasm for Daisy as he shows her. Damn. Couldn’t they make some x-rated clips available online? I’ll pay.
I have a hard time believing that she’s never seen a Prince Albert before but she acts like she’s shocked. I beg to differ. Shocking is giving this trick a TV show before Heather got one. Shocking is the amount of time I spend on this drivel every week. Shocking is waking up this morning with the realization that 20% of my town is unemployed. Shocking is the amount of vomit that can come out of a 130 pound woman.
But I digress. There is violent drunkenness to discuss. Later that evening, the sun sets on the Hollywood Hills, a skunk is taking a lonely walk in the woods with no friends to protect him from coyotes and our boys are taking getting trashed to heights not seen since the Rock of Love Bus. Cage is ridiculously wasted and he won’t stop yelling at the top of his lungs. They group around the fire pit where Flex throws Fox’s Greek laurel head wreath into the fire. Cage pulls it out of the fire with his bare hands, tries to put it in his pants but burns himself before he can. He throws it and it hits Flex on his hand. You thought that his hand got hurt when he tried to skateboard? Ha! His flesh bubbles up and it looks really painful. I hope it’s all worth it, Flex. Geez.
Cage continues his quest to enter the London drunk Hall of Fame by giving all the guys permission to punch him. He’s a real man, dammit! In interviews he says that he drank so much because he’s ‘stressed.’ I’m not buying it. I think that he’s simply trying to erase the memory of Daisy’s face from his brain and short of a lobotomy, this is the best solution.
Since Cage had such a problem staying erect on the Glee Club risers before eliminations, all the boys are chilling in a back room in the hopes that he can sober up long enough to get axed. He baits 6 Gauge by telling him that Daisy is going to get rid of him next and you can just feel the anger boiling up in the room.
Cage gets up and pushes 6 Gauge and Flex steps in to put Cage in a headlock. They tumble over the back of the couch and all the while Flex is calling him a “punk ass bitch,” and making fun of his supposed ultimate fighter status. Once again, he says exactly what I’m thinking.
It’s been almost five minutes since Fox said something stupid so you know we’re in for a doozy. He coins a new word, “furiated,” and says that Flex “tends to dip in and put someone in a submission hold.” There is no end to his impressive grasp of the English language. I’m going to have nightmares of speaking like him in college English class and getting laughed at by everyone. Is there a rehab for reality show exposure? A spa or detox? I need a brain cleanse.
The crew has to step in because, well, things are getting violent and everybody finally calms down. I think that they might need bigger guys next time. I could have sworn that I saw Flex toss one of the dudes brought in to make peace. Or maybe they could water down the booze? That might be a good idea.
Daisy comes down to talk to cage and he rants about how he’s a better fighter than anybody. Hello, you’re the one with the swollen face, buddy.
He wants to take off the mic packs and fight away from the cameras with the winner getting to stay. I’m not sure if he means Flex or 6 Gauge but it doesn’t matter because Daisy asks him if he can stay there and not fight and he can’t. Boo hoo. Another lost puppy bites the dust.
Go get some anger management and hit some punching bags before you get yourself killed, Cage.
He and Daisy share a completely uncontrived tearfull goodbye and if he wasn’t sure that he wanted to leave, her bad acting convinces him.
Once more, we get no elimination ceremony. I can’t say that I miss it.
Daisy tells the rest of the guys that she had to let Cage go because she grew up with violence and she can’t ‘condole’ it. I can’t ‘condole’ violence either. The violent churning of my guts. I hope that some of you send me condolences when I die from the bleeding ulcer I feel building in my stomach. This show is turning into VH1 of Omaha’s Violent Kingdom. May the biggest baboon win unless a natural disaster hits first.
Love and Kisses,