So, we found out this week that our favorite couch surfing vagrant has waltzed his smelly ass on over to the Yack Castle once again. And Daisy lets him in. Yay. I'm so excited.

You know what else is exciting? Auto-erotic asphixiation. Jumping out of airplanes with a ripped parachute. Russian Roulette. Doing what may or may not be exstacy that you just bought from some random hippie. Yeah, all exciting things to do BUT YOU DON'T ACTUALLY DO THEM. Unless you're an idiot.

We open this episode with yet another montage of douche grooming. Not satisfied with hair gel application and guy liner, the editors treat us to a new form of manscaping- nipple shaving. I had a feeling that Peepers was secretly a hairy little monkey.

Next is another strange and random moment. When 12 Ain't Packin' goes down to grab Daisy's diary it is surrounded by a half circle of those condiment squeeze bottles, each filled with a different rainbow hued liquid. I don't see how they serve any purpose known to Man so I'm going to assume that it's a shrine to Manic Panic hair dye that Torch left behind when his incomprehensible ass got tossed by Daisy. And I'm not talking salad here, you perverts.

There are no challenges again this week so Daisy decides to take Flex and Peepers on a daytime outing. It involves driving, so it was a smart move on their part to do it before they each drank enough to overload the L.A. water department with all the Bud Light piss they flush down the Yack Castle toilets.

Flex is bitching and moaning again. Yes Flex, we know you've been hurt a lot on this show but don't you work out for a living? Shouldn't you be stronger and more resilient than the average guy? Unless......unless you're on steroids, hmmm? Nah, I don't buy it. He's not that huge. He just drinks too much and turns into a Debbie Fall-Downer.

His face does light up when they arrive to a vast dirt expanse somewhere in the California desert because, voila. They get to ride a dune buggy!

Flex gets to drive Daisy around first and he man-handles that buggy like it was a ten dollar hooker that just tried to steal his wallet. He's a complete maniac and it looks like a total blast. How much do you want to bet that he likes it rough? I'm willing to put my sticky fingers in his back pocket to find out.
For you, of course, Gasmii. In the spirit of research.

Daisy loves it because she's an adrenaline junkie, she's says that the rush is like an orgasm for her. She also screams a lot. She seems to do that quite a bit around Flex, only thing is that it's not her prettiest moment.

While those two are having a ball, TT decides to make the separation official. He grabs his sad belongings and moves them unto an unused room down the hall where he won't have to listen to Peepers cry himself to sleep anymore. Cold. Poor Peepers is going to have a major meltdown when he finds out but TT doesn't exactly seem happy in his new digs.

This is worse than "The Breakup" and Jennifer Aniston doesn't even make an appearance. I don't know about you guys, but that barren hair flipping pile of neediness makes me want to kill myself. Or Brad Pitt, for helping to make her that way.

International tabloid fodder aside, we head back to the desert only to learn that Mr. Peepers can't drive stick for shit. He stalls the damn thing about eleventy billion times. I counted.

More sleepytime baby music plays as he finally gets the buggy moving. Barely. He never finds fourth gear and drives like this is a leisurely ride through the countryside on a Sunday afternoon, or like those ladies who insist on driving after they get a manicure but only use three fingers- one on the steering wheel and the other two on their cell phone.

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Posted in Daisy of Love by Twunty McSlore at 1:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)
Last Comment: cansnuts on Jul 9, 2009 09:01 AM.