Preview: Rock of Love: Confessions of an 80′s Metal Whore

**Note from the Editor: We promised you we’d search high and low to find some of the funniest, most original writers around to fill your Summer with ‘gasms, and we weren’t BSing you. Please give a nice, warm welcome to our newest staff writer, the featherheaded, jelly shoe wearing GirlBomb!!

Need I say more?

My name is GirlBomb, and I was an 80′s metal whore.

My senior yearbook picture was 90% hair. Platinum hair. Ok, fine, platinum CRIMPED hair. My quote was “Too Fast for Love”, which was my favorite Motley Crue song. I had the full complement of Wet N’ Wild eyeliner. I carried the economy sized Aqua Net in my black, studded purse. My bedroom walls were adorned with posters of shirtless, scowling, long-feather-haired men wearing crosses, which delighted my Jewish mother to no end. My life’s aspirations were to marry my dropout boyfriend who worked at the Exxon station. I had winner written all over me.

A few months ago, I heard of a new VH1 “reality” dating show from my fabulous friend Ariel, who informed me as we chatted over vodkas at the bar next to her tattoo shop that she had spent her day auditioning to be a contestant. She was all gung ho on it too, til she found out who “the Bachelor” was, at which point she made “the face” (you Sex and the City girls know what I’m talking about, for everyone else, it’s a facial cringe). When the producers expressed doubt that she could convincingly portray love for Bret Michaels, she, in true badass fashion, told them to f*** off, and walked out.

As I laughed at the story, I was secretly hatching an evil plan to force the ‘gasm to let me recap the show. What better way to purge myself of my embarrassing hair metal past than hypocritically ridiculing the gals who still lived it? This is Rock of Love, where twenty-five strippe – I mean ladies – compete for the love of Poison lead singer Bret Michael’s heart. And it’s gonna be skank-a-licious!

In preparation for Sunday’s big event, I’ve been doing my research. I checked out the gals on VH1.com, and here’s what we’ve got: Two Brandi’s with an “i” (you know, the way the socialites spell it), coupla Hooters girls (natch), indeed a few strippers (and one go-go dancer, who specifies “not exotic dancer” – what’s the diff?) and a piano playing chemistry major (I predict she’ll be the first to go). I’m calling it now for either the girl who can put her fist in her mouth or the girl who wears her cowboy hat in bed, cause I get the feeling Bret keeps his headscarf on in the sack, too. Whatcha hidin’ under there honey, weave tracks?

My first thought watching the preview is that whoever did the airbrush and retouch on the website deserves an Oscar. On the site, most of the girls actually look to be on the better side of pretty. On the television, they just look rode hard. Literally. If I was a facialist, I’d be on that set in a heart beat. No one should have to go on TV with skin like that.

They show us Bret pulling up in his taxi cab themed Harley (he really does drive that thing, I’ve seen him on Sunset Blvd.). He is manscaped, coiffed, glossed and tanned within an inch of his life. I’m not gonna lie, if you’re into the pretty boy rockers (make your own judgment on where I stand, I’m still trying to figure it out), he’s hot.

I’m not going to classify the gals as white trash, cause I’ve seen Flavor of Love and know that trash knows no color, but when two pneumatic blonds inform us (and then attempt to demonstrate) that if they put their boobs together they can think better, I nearly weep. Partly for the humanity, and partly for the fact that I fear I have chosen a show so mind numbingly stupid that no one will read my recaps. Another girl tells us one of her favorite songs is “Every Thorn Has Its Rose”. Despite the obvious semantic issues, if you can’t even get that song title right, you’re not convincing ME that you’re there for anything more than a line on the back of your headshot. I mean, even people who listened to Tiffany knew that one.

Other highlights include one of the honeys telling us how she was going to pick the other girls off one by one, followed by a shot of her falling down drunk and crashing into a table (so loving the editing already!), one girl telling another that Bret wasn’t going to want to look at her “meth scratched scarred face” (I’m trying desperately to think of someone I can appropriate that insult on), and the piece de resistance, one of the girls calling out the rest of them as “skanky ho-bags”. Glass houses, anyone? I got a bag of stones here.

Stock up on the Jack and beer. You’ll need it. As for me, my Jimmy Choos are getting a break this Summer. I’ll be tearing apart my closet for those spiked, studded stilettos that I used to have to change into in my boyfriend’s Iroc-Z ’cause my I wasn’t allowed out of the house with them on. TVgasm…ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?