A necessary production cost
This week on More to Love, fat-ass talons fly as the girls show their true colors on two group dates and one very bitchy solo date to vegas! Yes, there are pools involved, and also involuntary vomiting. Are you excited? I am. There’s always a second helping at the proverbial buffet table as three more ladies go home on MORE TO LOVE!
Hey y’all- just looking over all the shit I wrote from last time. Yep, even the racist stuff for all you racist-o-phobes who think one article like “but” makes someone racist, despite the context. Wohoo! Ready for more? Plus, like, a shit-ton more terrible fat jokes for you sensitive fatties who can’t seem to wrap your head around this show’s premise. Okie dokie? I haven’t eaten anything ALL DAY, aside from some almonds and seven Amstel lights!
I love you guyses.
In the beginning, there were skinny bitches…
thank you, diet pills and activia
as we know it?
Fatties, in all fat shapes and sizes!
Man, do I love this intro. It’s melodramatic, chock-full of scantily-clad obese, and full of tears. Oh, what plagues the love-filled heart, besides fry grease and the odd choco-taco?
A Penis named Luke
Luke, of course, a mediocre overweight man who seems to delight in being condescending and gelling his hair.
But who doesn’t love titties?
After a montage of awkward, white-people dancing, lots of kissing, crying, and girls sweaty with day-to-day activity, we get to what really matters in Episode 2:
I know, I know, it’s just a protein shake. But seriously, I bet there’s just, like, Nestle quik in there. Or, mayonnaise. Who doesn’t love a good meat shake?
My niece Cassandra ain’t complaining.
The gossip is, Tracy Turnblad seems to rub people the wrong way in the house. But hey, who doesn’t especially around a meal-time (or five?)? I mean, don’t get between these girls and their snacks, am I right? Malissa spelled-all-weird thinks she comes off as a big ‘ol snob.
Emphasis on big.
I mean, Tracy Turnblad doesn’t have time to cook, right? She’s too busy doing her hair, talking and eating. Also, doing the twist. Get it? From hairspray. John Waters? Are you reading?
Emme waltzes in, looking like the Great Pumpkin and announces the day’s activity, which most likely involves eating and dating.
Why yes, I DO still have a CAREER.
Emme the great pumpkin explains that they will be going on LARGE group dates, and there will be team captains to pick who is one what date. Get it? It’s just like high school, but much, much fatter. And, poutier.
no, I’m not disappointed; I smell farts.
Anna and Malissa are team captains, which is funny because it seems like these two are who our Lucky Luke likes best. Is it so one date isn’t hotter than the other? Who knows.
At this point, Melissa spelled not weirdly decides she’s gonna cry because nobody liked her in high school. GOD, there is NOTHING more attractive than some crying fat bitch who can’t get over the past, is there? Oh wait….
How about a BUNCH of fat bitches who can’t get over the past?
Miriam gets picked, Mandy. Amanda gets picked. Christian freaks because, GOD FORBID, the TEAMS AREN’T GOING TO BE EVEN! AHHHH!
This is what worry looks like on a pre-pubescent face.
Then it’s just nessie and Tracy Turnblad. Hmm….
One of these things is bitchier than the other…
Nessie is called and Tracy Turnblad is all by her lonesome in the chair area.
Does this living room furniture make me look skinny?
As awkward glances are exchanged, Tracy Turnblad, in THE MOST BITCHY language and tone possible, talks about how people describe her as “fun,” and how she thought everyone “liked her.” Sure, like a baby whale likes brine shrimp. Wait- baby whales do like brine shrimp. Okay, like a fat person doesn’t like celery. Better? Better.
Oh, but hark!
the last person doesn’t get beaten (or eaten) by the others, nor is there an uneven number of girls on one date than on the other. No- our little Tracy Turnblad gets her own very romantic date with Lucky Luke himself- ALONE!
Eat it, bitches!
Naturally, the girls liked their hierarchy of popularity and are PISSED.
That bitch ate my potato salad. This morning! I swear!
Now, how about seeing some fat girls try to run daintily towards a faux diamond ring?
Don’t mind if I do.
Lucky Luke leaves some luscious letters on a ‘lenvelope telling the ladies to leave their lunchmeat at home and meet at a luxurious limo around lunchtime (dusk. Sorry, I like my alliterations).
Dress to impress, ladies. Bust out the classy Lane Bryant, not those hand-me-downs from mom. Naturally, the ladies are beside themselves.
I have just the Miu Miu for the occasion!
Christian is giddy and calls Luke “the bees knees.” Then she foxtrotted over to the bar and put some liquor into a bowling ball “for later.” Get it? Prohibition jokes abound here on MORE TO LOVE!
Later, Luke and the ladies guzzle some champagne as the limousine drops them at an undisclosed location, by a dock. Sexy!
Watch out for the cement and oil drums. Oh, and that grizzled fisherman shouting out a warning.
No, I’m joshing. They’re on a yacht. You know, one that can hold a lot of weight. Then, Heather gets a little woozy. Hey, word to the wise: don’t have donut holes before cruisin’ the seven seas. Am I right?
Or seafood salad…garggg….the irony…
Then Heather’s seafood salad gets to go back to where it belongs: the ocean deep.
But come on, Luke, that’s like a good thing: It’s like a snack and a make out sesh, if you decide to tounge wrestle with Heath. Right? Still, everyone looks grossed out as all shit.
Ladies, calm yourselves. I have, er, it under control. Mmmm…I smell smelt.
Heather comes back slathered in her own barf and cry-mucous. Malissa is showing her true colors, though, at the opportunity of another girl looking gross.
Some girl smells like barf and humiliation. And it ain’t me!
Malissa’s got her eyes on the flabby prize!
As a sick Heather beaches herself on the couch (yes, it’s a classy Yacht. With a couch), Malissa goes in for the kill, complimenting Lucky Luke on being “business minded.” Really? Wow, I’m getting wet just listening to your banal chatter. Luke?
I’d like to look gross while going in for a kiss, if I may.
Yech, fine. I guess I’m alone on the sheer UNSEXY-ness of this show. Still Malissa is probably the prettiest of all the girls, and Luke digs pretty. Well, in the face, anyway, and as long as they show plenty of mother lovin’ cleavage.
Later comes the best part- the clash of the dinner bell. DINNER, Y’all!
The ladies love that they can go ape-shit when it comes to the food. I love it, too. Still, my appetite is constantly being spoiled because I have to see Christian’s googly-eyed FACE. A face that won’t SHUT UP. Christian goes on about how Malissa is less of a person because she wasn’t always a total fat-ass. Really, skinny people are lesser people? I mean, physically, yes. But what else? Malissa thinks she’s better than you? Well, she is- she’s had her period. Get it? You’re too young to menstruate. I mean, relax, your baby face can’t handle a little bitchy competition! Get over it, whiny Mc12 year old.
Back at the Yacht-couch….
I dream of Ranch Dressing
While Heather dreams of popsicles and hot fudge fried smother chicken chitlin bacon double pounders, Christian gets her chance to shine…
And stuff herself with more food.
Luke politely calls Christian “special.” Yeah, I consider her very special, too. Should I go into it, or are you all going to call me racist? HAH. Then lovely little Christian mispronounces “Cellulite” and widens her eyes in her signature look of vacant surprise. This girl is such a CHARITY CASE. I think her daddy is an exec and Fox owes him a favor. Sure, throw my fat, whiny twelve year old on a reality dating show. That’d be PERFECT. I’ll keep her pink canopy bed covered in plastic until her eventual elimination. And no, I will not sell her unicorn-themed beanie baby collection.
Then, to further humiliate herself, Christian tells Luke that the other girls make fun of her because she’s LAME. Wow, keep talkin’, Cassanova. You’ll get a kiss on the cheek, but more importantly, to polish off that plate of cake after your “romantic chat.”
Then Luke goes and wakes up Heather from her quite probably food-filled dream. Doh! Way to be a moodkiller, Lucky Luke. But, of course, Heather is again swept off her feet by Luke’s basic adherence to being polite and not being a total and complete motherfucking asshole, which makes Heather cry and fall in love.
Like, he doesn’t spit at me or ANYTHING!
Heather also likes that Luke is bigger than her. Yeah, I guess that’s nice if you’re the size of a refrigerator that your boyfriend be roughly the size of a barge. Okay, i’ll subscribe to that.
No, really. Your pant size is larger than a woman’s 20? God, this is AWESOME.
Before the night comes to a close, how about a little more of Christian bitching about being fat and unloved? Don’t mind if I do.
But seriously, next lady-group? What’s up next? Oh, Tracy Turnblad’s solo romp. Great, I can’t wait for the snark and the self-congratulation. But before that, Lauren, the other Miss Snark-a-licious, decides to tell Tracy Turnblad that she might be going home if she’s bitchy. Wow! A clash of the bitchfest, in the 200-300 pound category. Juicy.
Luke meets up with Tracy Turnblad, marveling where she got her bag-dress.
From a bag lady. DUH!
Apparently, Tracy is the kind of gal Luke likes….bangin’ personality and bangin’ body. Right.
LIke a frumpy mother-in-law, only younger.
Luke takes Tracy to a jet, and asks her “have you ever been on a jet before.” The proper response would be “yes, I’m an adult and this isn’t the 1930′s.” Instead, Tracy says, “Yes, but I usually have to buy two seats.” Kidding, she laughs snarkily and kicks Luke in the nuts, and takes the jet all for her fat self. At least, that’s how I wanted it to go. In reality, nobody has to buy two seats because it’s just one big seat.
Back at the fat farm, Aryan starts bitching about Christian. Aside from being 400 years old, I sorta like Aryan. Plus, I like her name because I’m RACIST.
I brought my jacuzzi hat
The jumbo jet-setters drop down in vegas. Classy. So what does one do in vegas? Gamble? See a show? Get laid? Nope- EAT! And, make out awkwardly.
Tracy talks about how she was cheated on, blah blah blah BORING. Come on, bitch, let’s see those talons, I’m falling asleep in an Amstel-induced haze…
Back at the fat farm, the girls do make good points about Tracy being fake and stinky. She’s the smelly kid! I mean, they were all the fat kids, but fat and stinky? That’s like having leprosy, only without the peskiness of your limbs falling off. Then, Luke and Tracy make out a lot as Tracy talks in an unamused monotone, “thanking Luke for like, totally taking her on an amazing date.” Yawn.
After more gross spit-swapping, Luke has doubts about Tracy, perhaps due to her being a BORING, SELF-ABSORBED BITCH.
Also, she’s fat.
Team Anna, the last group, is invited to a pool party. Wow, the first date in bathing suits? Like, five girls started crying before the invitation was even done being read. Nice.
At the pool (not the fat farm pool, a different pool, at a creepy undisclosed locale) everyone’s nervous and all shifty and shit. Luke, of course, decides that everyone would be comfortable with a few drinks in them or seven.
Nothing like binge drinking around a swimming pool. Am I right, ladies?
Of course, some of us are sad drunks. Melissa?
And sad sobers.
Eventually, Luke and the girls get into the pool.
Not to shabby, flabby.
They really don’t look THAT BAD, especially Anna who is a model and is better proportioned than the rest of the girls. So, really, does Luke like Malissa and Anna because they’re the thinnest of the fat, with the nicest faces? I bet so.
Back at the house, Christian and her only friend, Mandy the fitness instructor (hah) decide to leave creepy love notes outside of Luke’s apartment. Wow, we really are in sixth grade. Despite being fat, I do like Bonnie, who is bitchy in a fun way and calls out the lame creepiness of some of the girls….it’s like she has desperation-dar. Plus, she has a cute 50′s style, with a sexist fifties mentality to match!
said creepy love notes
Back at the pool party, Lauren gets all up on Luke’s kegger-tummy and is obviously wanting a piece. Luke grabs Melissa Ms. shy-pants for a one-on-one moment, toweled (thank god).
Plus, more booze.
After Melissa, the other smooth-talker of the bunch, tells Luke that she thinks people date her “as a joke,” Luke gives her her first kiss. Well, I’m assuming her first kiss, because most of their banter made me want to kill myself.
Then Lauren wastes NO MOMENT getting Luke to come over and complimenting him, saying how alike they are, and how she wants to make a paper mache mold of his body to sleep with every night. Nice! Luke, in turn, gives her a creepy sexy look.
Eeew, my vagina just barfed.
Then, they kiss.
My vagina just puckered into something resembling dried fruit. Damn you, Luke!
After a little makeout sesh, Lauren mocks the other girls in the house some more. I mean, come on, let’s be realistic- Lauren isn’t the one that’s gonna end up with Tubby. Right?
I WILL cut you.
The next evening there is what I like to call, the “last chance mixer.” Yep, the stink of desperation and hot cheetos gets even thicker in the air, as the girls bring out the big guns. Bonnie, whom I like but won’t win him in the end, tells him how she’s tough on the outside and assumes Luke’s mother won’t like her. Yawn. Really? because you have black hair and tattoos or because you’re fat? I mean, I’m sure some hipster dude would love to get lost in your rolls. Why are you going for this preppy schmuck?
Then, my fave, crazy-ass Christian. She lets him know that if he died, she’d gladly eat his entrails.
She talks about how perfect Luke is, how much she’s falling for him, how much he is like, THE BEST. Wow. Erg. Luke, however, is FINALLY getting creeped out, calling it “a friendship.” Haha. yeah, it seems like a SUPER great friendship.
Heather Mcvomitsalot finally gets her kiss, hope she brushed her teeth.
Lauren bitchyfat pants gets her time at the mixer of desperation, and doing probably the most unsexy thing ever- ratting out the other girls. We learn:
1. Aryan is old. Really? No shit.
2. Aryan doesn’t want kids. Really? NO shit. I’m sure her ovaries are all dried up like twizzlers. Yawn. Next?
3. Vanessa is 32. So? I take shits older than 32. Next?
4. Older women aren’t exciting. Really? When I’m 32 I’ll be comatose? Nice. God, you’re a bitch.
I mean, she didn’t even give juicy shit, just people’s ages! LAME!
Finally, elimination. Mandy is called first. Let the dirty glances begin!
Anna is next. Christian? Please don’t wet yourself.
Malissa and Tracy Turnblad get called.
Racially ambiguous tits
Soon there is just one ring left- will it be the old lady, Nessie, crazy Christian or Mowgli? Ladies, start sobbing uncontrollably.
Ugh, done and done.
UGH! It’s crazy Christian. Gross. I can’t wait till that bitch gets KICKED OFF. Sorry, firecrotch, old lady and weirdo-named lady. I liked you all better than Christian, FOR REAL.
Now some reflection on fatness and inner beauty…and we’re out.
BUT NEXT TIME….
A GAUDY FAT GIRL PROM WHERE EVERYONE SHARES THE SAME LAME DATE! NICE.
The man of their dreams.
Oh yeah, P.S., I’m totally racist. Love ya!