Daisy of Love: Exes, Lies and Video Eggs

Supposedly, we are losing two guys this week, SUPPOSEDLY. Getting rid of three would be fine with me but then what would I do with myself next week?

Nasty.

The truth is that we’re going to have to wait two weeks again because VH1 is airing a clip show next week since they didn’t get as many episodes out of this trainwreck what with all the guys that took it upon themselves to skedaddle.

As we all know, one of the skedaddlers is back and he’s in the kitchen getting ragged on by 12 and Flex. TT isn’t saying a word, no doubt because he can’t believe that he’s made it this far and doen’t want to mess it up. Or he’s just drunk again, or it just sunk in that his little buddy is gone.

12 and Flex want JOSHUA LEE, REAL PERSON, to prove how badly he wants to be there by doing a shot of Tabasco, which he promptly does. What a man. Ha. I knew a guy in college that would down entire bottles of Dave’s Insanity without blinking an eye or drinking water afterwards. So snort a line of Wasabi powder or something, then we’ll talk, big guy.

It’s drunks around the fire pit time again and Daisy’s been hitting the Ripple already because she comes out meowing. I think I heard her do a bird call as well, some kind of Booby no doubt, the not-so-rare Pink Crested Yellow Weaved Booby of Sunset Strip, I think, and who will she shine her bright light of attention on tonight? It’s TT!

But not that wasted. It’s not like she actually makes out with the guy, she only allows him to touch her cheek with his Nicole Kidman pre-surgical enhancement sized lips. I doubt that she even felt it.

London is sitting right next to them, watching and waiting his turn like a good little prodigal douchebag, then letting her know that he needs, he wants, he must have some one-on-one time with his future sugar mama. They tumble onto the grass, mumbling their barely articulated feelings to one another, a merry-go-round of love proving and spit swapping.

TT is not going to be pushed aside so easily, oh no, he hast picked two beautiful flowers from yonder hillside for our lady faire, and lost his magic ring in the process! He bemoans his tragic situation to the other two knights and they promise to form a fellowship in the morn’ and trace the path of his precious to the bitter end.
In other words, it’s probably a five dollar freaking skull ring he bought off some street vendor in Venice Beach so get over it, you asshole.

It’s safe to say that his stupid flower ploy didn’t exactly move Daisy to stop massaging London’s uvula nor does it keep her from asking London to eat TT’s pathetic flora to “prove his love to her.”

By the way, I think that I’m going to add that quote to the list of phrases that you will never ever hear come out of your Twunty’s mouth. To say it is to admit defeat and I would have already been on the third guy after him by now, not that I’m a slut or anything so let’s move on.

Flex says that he doesn’t see any sparks flying around between the two of them and he’s right in a way. How sexy is it to watch two people that are so drunk that all of Southern California is spinning around them, try to bob and weave their way to each other’s mouth? About as sexy as watching Michael Jackson kiss Lisa Marie Presley, that’s how.

TT observes the flower eating and stamen swapping and all 98 pounds of him are about to go off, and 98 pounds of angry hipster rocker is a really scary thing, I tell you! He smashes a guitar that he found hanging on the wall which is a good thing since it leaves less stuff for London to pawn later, and he throws eggs in the house, hitting one of the cameras and camera guys, I assume.

12 Pack and Flex laughed at him the entire time, like you would giggle at your little brother’s half hearted and really lame attempt at showing his wee anger. That’s okay widdle TT, it will all be bettewr in the morning, I pwomise…….or will it?

The Daisy diary comes out, letting the fellas know that it is time to meet the exes. They are gorgeous, by the way. Classy in that Audrey Hepburn kind of way, articulate as Hillary Clinton and as reserved as Jackie O, especially TT’s ex, Ashley. But we’ll just call her the poor man’s Tara Reid.

Just a little, Gasmii, just a little. I know, I’m mean.

All the guys are nervous because who knows what an ex will say. You could think that you ended things on the best possible terms only to find out later that she’d been telling everyone that you’re a child toucher who gave the Clap to half his younger cousins, all while faithfully attending those Klan meetings where you suck off the Grand Wizard in exchange for Nazi memorabilia.

Or- you could have fought every single day of your relationship, cheated and lied, stole and cajolled, and she’ll blow sunshine and HoHos up your ass, cook you dinner when you’re low on funds and pity blow you when you can’t get laid to save your life. I’m not saying that either one of these scenarios are neccessarily bad bacause we’ve all been in one or the other at some point, but you never know which person will show up.

Here’s 12 Pack’s ex, Cathy. I hate her immediately for one very, very good reason.

They’ve known each other since 12 was just a 6 Pack, dated briefly and she looks like half the sorority girls that I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing, overly hair sprayed and underdressed.

Next up is Flex’s ex Kia Sportage. She is rocking a scarf and tank top, tight jeans and a pretty tight body. They probably met at FitWorks where he spotted her and she gave him inventory blowout pricing on her latest model.

And something tells me she could point you in the direction of a dealer near you.

I was expecting them to wheel in the vomit covered couch that London’s been calling his girlfriend for the last few years but instead we get this chick named Natasha. She is a Joan Jett wannabe and what’s worse, a Paris Hilton’s BFF castoff. Yet another disgusting fame seeker! You have Herpes by association, and you are not even his ex! You’re “just friends.” When did they meet? In the VH1 casting offices when they made eye contact over the unzipped pants of the producers they were going down on? And that’s not even the worst of it.

Daisy wants to have lunch with the girls and get them properly lubricated so they’ll spill some beans. Chatty Cathy must have opted for some coke instead of booze because she won’t stop talking 12 Pack to the skies. She has nothing bad to say and Riki is NOT having this love fest. He’s bored out of his mind and wants some dirt, dammit, so bring it, bitches! Well, it turns out that London’s been “seeing” somebody.

The funny thing is that earlier London said that he has never cheated on a girl. This could mean any number of things in his ‘write your morals as you go’ world, like it isn’t cheating if I never actually called her my girlfriend or hey, baby, threesome opportunities don’t come along every day- can we make an exception, just this once?
And why couldn’t they locate one of his exes? I have an idea. I’m sure that there are tons of them but the problem is that you’d need a damn good P.I. to find a chick based on her last known squat.

Natasha also informs Daisy that London is never without a girl. This takes me back to the brutal honesty of Motley Crue’s “The Dirt.” Every guy in that band was poor, hungry and smelly when they first started out. The only thing that got them through the hard times was a girl like Daisy. She’d provide them with booze, drugs and a place to crash, maybe even some wheels, if they were lucky. So when Natasha says that he’s a sex addict I only half buy it. I think that every guy loves sex and he’s a serial dater by neccessity. If he ever gets famous or self-sufficient he will dump whatever Civic driving manicurist he’s been shacking up with and get himself a Penthouse Pet. Trust.

Our little blow-up doll is looking forlorn, even the Champagne bubbles (Oooo, they tickle my nosie! hee hee) can’t slow her wilting face until something sadder comes along. Sorento’s sob story. It turns out that Flex was her first love, they dated for two years and when he dumped her she had to move out, which has got to suck.
He broke her heart into teenie tiny pieces and she doesn’t seem like she’s over it yet. Hooking up a year later couldn’t have helped, after which he didn’t take her calls or return her texts. Raise your hand if this hasn’t happened to you or you haven’t felt like a cowardly asshole for doing it to someone else. I want to hate the guy for hurting her but I can’t. It’s part of the minefield of dating.

All in all, not a lot of dirt to go on. Chatty Cathy earns her two seconds of fame by running her mouth some more about what a great guy ‘Dave’ is, but you better watch it girl, I think I spotted an earpiece in your ear and a microphone in your bag. 12 Pack totally orchestrated her appearance. There was no way in hell he was going to allow another girl to come out on national TV and call him a fag in front of the entire world, so he paid her in blow and a gift certificate to his favorite waxer.

TT didn’t think that far ahead because Tara Reid 2.Ho whispers that she has something she needs to tell Daisy. What could it be? Does he have no discernable cock and balls? Did she catch him with Peepers jacking it to Gossip Girl? Does he use plastic applicators instead of the more eco-friendly cardboard?

Why yes, yes she does.
Does TT ever get physical?
Why yes, with his pillow at night, sure.
No! Like with you or your face?!
What, what what?!?

Oopsy, the Chinister One hauled off and clocked Tara in the mouth one night when he was drinking. Ya don’t say! I am positively shocked! A guy the size of Gary Coleman has anger issues? AND he hit a girl? This cannot be! So once again, he looks like an asshole and this little story of hers goes a long way to explaining her busted face.

Thus endeth our luncheon and because Riki hasn’t been abused enough, it’s time to see a psychic. Not just any psychic, but Daisy’s very own personal soothsayer. She is, shall we say, rather LARGE.

I say that with love. No, I lie. I’m with Riki, it’s a load of crap. A friend of mine once talked me into seeing some ten pack a day hacker with Lee Press-On nails whose only credentials were that she predicted Claus von Bulow’s aquittal. I spent 250 bucks for the privilege of finding out that I had been my exes mother in a past life and that I should marry the most boring person I’d ever met because he had a few million in the bank. I might like a guy who has a little extra jingling around in his pocket but I will not watch my life fly by while my snooze inducing husband talks about his collection of rare South American sea slugs for the millionth time.

So yeah, psychics suck.
First up to the stupid table with it’s crystal balls of nothing are 12 and his puppet. Clairvoyent McMysticpants says that in past lives he’s been a person of great responsibility, taking care of those around him. Then she says that he would never hurt Daisy because any relationship that they have, she’s in charge. Sure, yeah, okay. I ain’t buying what she’s selling but did you get a load of what Riki wore this time? He’s looking a little Karl Maldenesque, only a flannel shirt instead of a trenchcoat.

Next up is Flex and Optima. She brings up the booty call and the lack of calls afterwards which was surprising to her since he told her that he still loved her. He’s all, “But I’m not IN LOVE with you,” and it’s like listening to an old married couple go at it. Boring.