So far, Rock of Love has been every bit as trashtastic as I had hoped it would be. It’s like The Bachelor‘s unemployed, druggie little brother. You know, the one with the ’84 Trans Am who hangs out behind the 7-11 that you shamelessly want to date. If you want to call drinking beer in the woods behind the high school he never graduated from a date, that is. I’m about to sink into the backseat of that beat up old hunk o’ junk for a dirty, dirty time with Episode 2. Care to join me? Don’t worry. This show is definitely into threesomes.
Before I get started, let’s take care of a little housekeeping…GirlBomb is now ChickBomb. After the first recap posted, I got a call from the ‘gasm telling me that they had received word from someone claiming to have already copyrighted the name GirlBomb. I, personally, was thrilled with the eruption of scandal after only one recap. “Was there a cease and desist letter?” I excitedly demanded to know. “Ummmm…not really, it was just a polite little email saying someone else has been using that name so they would appreciate if you didn’t” was the reply. Oh well. ChickBomb it is. Now to the back seat.
We rejoin the skanks as they are passed out from the wild party the night before. They look sort of innocent while they’re sleeping, until the crafty editors zero in on a jagged, broken glass to remind us of what we’re really dealing with.
I’m blowing this pic up to poster size for my bedroom wall. Don’t F with ChickBomb!
Clown Whore Tiffany, who has no bed or self-respect, but plenty of cheap makeup, is passed out on the couch. Meanwhile, Bret, having shuttled in for the day on his Harley (come on, you don’t really think he’s bunking there) is outside pumping iron in his gym.
A few of the girls, including One S Jes and Hooters Erin are chatting about men and relationships. Hooters Erin launches into her sob story about how she was engaged and supposed to have been married in May, but the guy broke it off because he wasn’t in love with her. The girls around her pretend like they care. Meanwhile, listening sneakily at the top of the stairs is Heather the Boob Flasher in a white bikini. She immediately twists the story into, “Erin’s engaged! She’s not here for Bret!” and passes the news to the rest of the gang. For some reason, Flasher has targeted Hooter as the girl to hate. She makes fun of her “clown boobs”. I’m not really sure what clown boobs look like, and am kind of wondering how Flasher does, but then I decide that there are some things I’m better off not knowing. I will agree that Hooter’s boobs are kind of weird looking though, like when you first get them done and they haven’t settled in yet (I live in LA, babes, I have nursed a friend or five through implant recovery).
If ever I’m in a plane crash over the ocean, I hope I’m sitting next to this girl.
Rocker Lacey (who I will grow to despise over the next hour) appears onscreen, perched up on her soapbox, all high and mighty about how it’s ok to party at night, but she doesn’t drink during the day. This is all quickly forgotten as the rest of the gang starts cocktailing (hey, it’s gotta be noon somewhere), and she says she’ll make an exception and join the party.
Shortly after the bacchanal has begun, the groupies decide to take advantage of the musical instruments in the house and start a band! Of course, none of them can play, and the editors treat us to sound effects like crying cats and breaking glass. Have I mentioned that I am really enjoying the editorial touches today? They’re fabulous. Cool Samantha loses some points as she grabs the mike and starts hurting my ears.
Bret hears the ruckus from outside, and decides to join in the fun. He sings and plays guitar and some of the girls stay with their instruments, but most of them make a mad dash for the pole. All I recall at this point is Grandma Rodeo rubbing her boobs under her bikini top as she grinds up on the pole. Then I think I went blind for a few minutes.
Tommy, can you hear me?
As I stumble around in the dark, I hear Dallas telling us that the place is quickly turning into one of those strip clubs near the airport full of fat chicks with bad implants. I like Dallas. She’s sitting outside with Magdalena Legs (every time I see her, she’s smoking a cigarette, no wonder she sounds like a dude), Prissy Faith and Cool Sam. It is becoming clear that there is a split between the girls in the house, the Sluts vs. the “Bitchy Introverts”. Gee. I wonder who’s gonna win?
I’ll give you a hint. He’s not sitting in the smoker’s section.
Rocker Lacey notices it too, and attempts to crossover. She tries to chat up One S Jes, but is quickly rebuffed. Hey, this house isn’t big enough for two pink haired girls, you know. Rocker Lacey takes the rejection gracefully though, commenting that Jes and her crew are bitches with sticks up their asses. Perhaps they just don’t like your wannabe ass. I don’t.
But Lacey cannot leave it alone, and next thing you know, she’s somehow decided that a good way to befriend Jes is to knock her down and throw her in the pool. Oh, so that’s how you make friends and influence people.
One S Jes is FURIOUS! If for no other reason, than her spiky ‘do is ruined. As irritating as Lacey is though, it is fun to watch. One minute Jes is sitting there, too cool with her wraparound shades, next minute she’s soaking wet. As she storms into the house, the rest of the bad girls in the indoor Jacuzzi (Indoor Jacuzzi? Ok, so these bitches have one thing that I want) are openly laughing at her. I always enjoy a good holier than thou mocking, so I laugh too.
Time for the daily challenge. I notice that Jes’s hair is very smooshed at this point, man she must have been pissed when the producers herded her away from the hair product and back to the rest of the cows. The challenge is Talk Dirty To Me, and there’s really no further explanation required. Bret is wearing red pajamas that are way too big on him. I’m sure he’s going for a Hugh Hefner thing, and while it’s not at all sexy, it is kind of cute in a little boy way. I know you aren’t supposed to call men cute when it comes to anything related to the bedroom, but I call ‘em like I see ‘em.
But the REAL story here is Bret’s hair! For the first time, we see him sans headgear – that’s right cupcakes, NO headscarf and NO cowboy hat! Clearly, he is trying to throw us off the trail of the weave. And I almost buy it, cause really, who would waste money on such frizzy, fried fake hair? But then I think of Ashlee Simpson. Nice try, Bret, but you gotta get up pretty early in the morning to fool this superficial bitch.
We are introduced to Dr. Roy, who VH1 makes sure to tell us is “not an accredited doctor”. Then we are told that “Dr.” Roy will be attaching some kind of blood flow measuring apparatus to Bret’s privates to gauge the reaction of each girl’s dirty talk. So he’s admittedly not a real doctor, but you’re letting him hook up electromagnetic wires to your penis? I sense more producer trickery at hand, but remember, we’re going with the flow on this (pun totally intended).
It ain’t the size of the wave…
While the easy assumption is that these sluts will be pros at dirty talk, I’m actually not expecting much. Dirty talk requires imagination, which requires a brain, so there you go. Annoying Brandi is the first to prove me right. She talks about taking him on a picnic. What’s dirty talk for lame?
Flasher Heather tells us she’s not going to be a whore about it. Honey, that ship has sailed. What is it with these girls and their constant insistence that they’re not going to be whores and sluts?
Tamara, the one who “gets it”, comes up with the most boring dirty talk ever. Bret assures “Dr.” Roy that any reaction he sees on the monitor from Tamara is purely accidental.
Hooters Erin humps the bed in her black teddy and Bret likes it. What fool agreed to lease their house for this? I hope they have a Costco card, becuase they’re gonna need some serious amounts of bleach. Magdalena Legs strikes out with some stupid song. It rhymes, but it’s not dirty. Rocker Lacey wants to treat him like a king, talks about being poetry in motion. Bret’s into it, he likes dragons flying around towers. Huh? What’s dirty about that? I don’t find Lacey sexy in the least bit. In fact, I’m starting to get a lesbo vibe from her.
Clown Whore wants to play ring around the bedpost. She babbles incoherently, winding up with her trademark “Don’t threaten me with a good time!” Bret rolls his eyes. Prissy Faith is a bore, but then it’s Grandma Rodeo’s turn, and based on her phone sex chat, her prowess on the pole, and the fact that she’s ninety years old, I think it’s clear that she is a pioneer of the sex for entertainment movement. I can totally picture her in a covered wagon hawking a basket full of early American sex toys.
Bret returns with the results. The losers are Clown Whore, Prissy Faith and Gets It Tamara. No surprises there. The winners are Grandma Rodeo, Hooters Erin, and Rocker Lacey. Annoying Brandi has jumped on the I Hate Hooters train, and as she lounges in her cheap, hot pink lingerie, she tells Hooters Erin how upset she is that she has won the date. She also says that Hooters doesn’t deserve it, but when she’s called on it, she backpedals.
But it’s too late. Hooters, flush with pent up energy from the challenge, spews it onto Annoying Brandi telling her she’s only beautiful by trailer park standards (true) and by meth-addict standards (also true, although Erin is only beautiful by Hooters standards, which isn’t much better). Then Hooters comes out with the “meth-scarred face” insult (which I still really like) and Annoying Brandi goes running from the room in her stupid pink panties. She dissolves into tears in the closet, and Sidekick Kristia, dressed in an equally stupid pink nightie hugs her. Kristia doesn’t want to see Annoying Brandi like that, after all, she’s her best friend! I would make fun of that, but these are two bleached, implanted, brain-dead tramps in matching hot pink panties. That kind of bond doesn’t come along every day. And we should all be thankful for that.
The next catfight is between Rocker Lacey and Dallas. Dallas is pontificating on her love of rabbit fur coats. She loves to wear and eat animals. Lacey gets defensive. She is a PETA member. Told you I was getting the lesbo vibe. The more agitated she gets, the more Dallas coolly eggs her on. Finally, Lacey declares that she can no longer room with Dallas. I think maybe that was the idea all along, making Dallas one smart chocolate cookie.
Annoying Brandi is going to put the “meth-scarred” comment to work. She whines that she is upset, and that Bret is the only one who could make her feel better about this. She goes to Bret’s room with Sidekick Kristia (with permission, of course, cause we all remember Big John’s rules) and complains about how hurt her feelings are. Turns out, her scars (that I can’t see, but I don’t have HDTV – actually, I don’t even have Tivo, making recapping a challenge, but I digress) are from a car accident. She likens the situation to someone in a wheelchair. If she were in a wheelchair, would it be right for Hooters to make fun of her? Now, I’m sure it’s not fun to have facial scars, but it’s so not the same as being in a wheelchair. I’m disturbed by this analogy. But she seems to get over the pain pretty quickly, and departs with a perky “Sorry to ruin your date!” Yeah, I totally bought that.
Damn. You should have used that wheelchair stuff in the dirty talk competition. Apparently it’s really hot.
And then it’s time for the date. Rocker Lacey is wearing plain shorts and a top. I can’t see her feet, but I’m sure she is wearing sensible shoes. Hooters Erin is in a black pantsuit with a huge cinched belt. Ewww. Grandma Rodeo is wearing one of her spangled stripper dresses. The date will be the girls contributing to a song from Bret’s new album. Don Was, a big pants music producer, will be assisting. Rocker Lacey goes first. This is her chance to prove to Bret that she is comfortable in the studio. And in her Walmart outfit. She does just fine.
Then it’s Grandma Rodeo’s turn. She moans and growls and tells us she could have an orgasm right now if she had to. I didn’t know you could still have orgasms from the crypt, but since you don’t have to Grandma, please don’t. On behalf of the whole entire world, please, please don’t.
Lacey comments that there is no chemistry between Bret and Grandma Rodeo. Cut to Bret and Grandma totally making out on a couch. Then it’s Hooter’s turn. She doesn’t want to sing, and has never been in the studio before. Cue Bret’s very original comment about de-virginizing her. Much like Grandma, who couldn’t sing either, her part consists of faux orgasmic moaning and something about spanking him. Then they chat. Hooters is rambling on about how just because she dresses a certain way, it doesn’t mean she is a certain way. But then she says that she’s very sexual. Dresses like a whore, is a whore. What’s so confusing ’bout that? Bret can’t concentrate on a word she’s saying. He can’t see past her DD’s.
She must be telling a wheelchair story.
Back at the charm farm, Flasher Heather informs us that her group of skanks is now going to be called the “Varsity Squad” or the “A-Team”. The producers give us the best bit of editing of all, typing across the screen telling us: “A-Team Headquarters – 7:03 PM”. Loves it! They give them Varsity nicknames, but I’m not writing them cause I like mine better.
When Bret returns from the group(ie) date, Flasher Heather corners him to tell him about Hooters Erin’s alleged engagement. Flasher is a bitch on a mission. She tells him she hates to do it, and she isn’t a rat, but she cares so much for Bret, and he needs to know. So glad you said that Flasher, that’s why I’m sure you’ll understand that when I call you a used-up, skanky ho-bag, it’s not because I’m a bitch, it’s just because I care so much for the TVgasm readers and they need to know. Kisses.
Bret falls for it, and calls Hooters in to clear things up. Hooters denies it, of course, and then Big John is sent to fetch Flasher to clarify. She returns in a dress that you absolutely have to see to believe.
Oooh! Diamonds! Classy!
Hooters and Flasher go back and forth about the accusation for a while, but nothing gets cleared up. Who knows? Maybe Hooters really is engaged. And who cares? This whole thing is just another blowjob on the path to Miss Hawaiian Tropic for her anyway.
Bret wants to take a little time with some of the other girls before the big elimination. Gets It Tamara is possibly the stupidest person to ever appear on a VH1 “reality” show. And that’s saying a lot. Her conversation with Bret is filled with loooooong pauses. Bret, who never met a clichÃ© he didn’t want to build an entire conversation around, notes that “the lights are on but nobody’s home” and she’s “dumb as box of rocks”. I’m surprised there was no rose / thorn imagery thrown in there for good measure.
Clown Whore, who had been glaringly omitted (i.e. sober) for most of the episode, finally remembers the only reason she got to stay the last time was because of her drunken ho routine, and gets to slurping down some wine. However, I fear it is too late. We also see a lot of Hooters Erin talking about how after the interrogation, she was certain she’d be going home, a sure sign from the producers that she would be staying.
For the elimination, Bret is decked out in a cowboy hat with flames on it and…a pony skin coat. Oh, how it hurts to write that. We already know from the ill-fitting jammies that there is no stylist on hand. People, I’m available. Just give me Bret’s credit card and ten minutes at Barneys and we will never have to be tortured this way again.
This hurts us more than it hurt the pony.
It was a hard decision, yada, yada. One of these days, one of these bachelors has got to tell us, “You know what? This one was easy. I’m just cutting the fugly losers who won’t put out.” Won’t be Bret though. His selection has got the fugly losers covered, but it’s day three in that House o’ Ho’s – I’m pretty sure he’s banged all of them by now.
So here’s how it goes down (heehee): Grandma Rodeo gets the first pass again. She’s wearing something else from the JCPenny Stripper Collection, but it looks a little prom-ish to me as well. One S Jes gets the second pass. Bret says he has a lot to learn from her. I can’t imagine what, but it must be hair related. Rocker Lacey gets the third pass. She can barely walk in heels – she’s clearly no lipstick lesbian.
Then comes Mia, who I’ve seen so little of I can’t even come up with a nickname for her, and Magdalena Legs. Dallas, true to form, strikes a pose when she receives her pass. Cool Sam is in, as she is “hotness”. When he asks Badass Brandi if she will stay and rock his world, she tells him “Yes, I fucking will”. Even though I didn’t see her at all for the past hour, she’s still my pick. Annoying Brandi accepts her pass like some pathetic little chihuahua, followed by Sidekick Kristia. Flasher Heather gets a pass, as Bret considers her a “friend”. Uh-oh, that’s so not the category you want to be in with this manwhore.
Before he tells us his final pick, he counts down the losers. Prissy Faith and Streaky Hair Tawny are out cause they were just lost in the shuffle. Gets It Tamara is out cause they didn’t “connect”. Sweetie, if you’re too stupid for the guy who sings “Unskinny Bop”, there is just no hope. And Clown Whore is done because her drunken ho show started a day late. Which leaves…Hooters Erin. Catfights beat unpredictable alcoholism every time.
Hooters promises Bret that she has no fiancÃ©. Streaky Tawny tells us that she mistakenly thought Bret was a “real person”. In that outfit? He looks like the animated version of himself. Prissy Faith tells us she was “too good for him”. Liar, if you thought you were too good for him, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place. The BEST parting comment by far comes from Clown Whore, who says that Bret missed out on the girl he could take home to mom. Sure, if he really, really, really, really hates his mom.
Hi Mom. I wish you were dead. This is Clown Whore. Let’s eat.
While Clown Whore wins for the best parting comment, Gets It Tamara wins for the most entertaining departure. First, she walks out the wrong door. And not in an American Idol, we’re locking one of the doors just to fuck with you kind of way, she literally wanders around the house looking for the right door ’til Bret directs her to the right one. It’s hilarious. Is she really this spacey or do I need to get the name of her dealer? Once she’s gone, she blathers on sorely and incoherently, ending with the declaration that Bret has been pronouncing her name wrong the whole time. So there.
Now who’s the idiot?!?
The episode closes with another beer toast. I’m feeling particularly filthy after this one, so I’ll probably be in the bath ’til it’s time to do next week’s recap. See you then, dolls. Rock on.