Fancast: Reality Bites

The highly anticipated, slightly stained Rock of Love returned last night on VH1, and after 2 weeks of speculation we finally learned who would win Bret’s heart and rock his world.

The “ladies” (whore is a little too strong this early in the blog) started packing for Cabo and they both made it clear they were ready to fight. The stripper and the sexy troll were whisked away by private jet to the Mexican resort town and when the trio arrived they were greeted by gyrating bikini dancers. These dancers were like catnip to horny Heather and she dove on the chance to dance like Donovan McNabb on a loose ball.

The first dinner with Bret was tense and short and the ladies took the opportunity to sling barbs at one another (Jes is too young, Heather will never give up stripping) and it gave me a chance to fully exhale the breath I began to expire at the beginning of the season. This entire show is redemption for Flavor of Love. During the first and second seasons of that show people claimed it was racist and dangerous and cast the mostly African American women in a bad light. Rock of Love definitively shows white girls are bigger skanks and hoochies than their black counterparts, and this finale brought out the claws in these kittens reminiscent of the fights and vitriol of Flavor of Love’s New York and Deelishus.

Come date time Bret and Heather were ready to buggy… dune buggy. We know from the motocross challenge Bret loves motor sports, so jack assing around in the desert covered in bandanas was right up his banyan tree. Unfortunately the excitement and adrenaline of the airborne sand scooters almost sent our protagonist into a diabetic coma and his insulin shock forced him to turn the wheel over to Heather who promised to drive back to the beach for some much needed glucose. Maybe Heather was going into silicone shock because she ignored the puddle of cold sweat sitting next to her and flew through the dunes with the abandon of a dancer during “Cherry Pie”. Bret and Heather capped off their date with dinner and oral sex, or at least that’s what Heather alluded to when she told Jes his lips were all over her and to remember where they’d been. The best exchange between the hopefuls came when Heather asked, “Can you smell him on me, his scent?” and Jes quickly replied, “I can smell rotten p#ssy”. Brilliant.

Jes got an ocean cruise for her date, maybe THAT’S the fishy smell she was referring to, and I have to say it was far more relaxing and romantic than tooling around the desert looking like a terrorist. I was worried for Jes for two reasons: one, New York and Flav had their final date on a yacht and I worried this was foreshadowing, and two, I worried the date would go so well Bret would pick her and what on God’s green and golden earth is a beautiful, smart 23 year old doing with aging diabetic Bret Michaels? This guy clearly does not take good care of himself and is not regulating his insulin or his relationships well. He almost went into shock twice in 24 hours, so the question is if he can’t keep his sugar in check how will he check on this pink sugar?

Last night’s episode, although there were plenty of barbs, dramatic moments and gallons of sexiness, disappointed me on a deeper level where it promised to deliver. I was told this final episode would highlight Bret’s hair in the pool or in the shower and we would see his goldilocks free from the bounding bandana. These tresses have been the real star of the show, more than any stripper or raw meat or uncomfortable dinner with the parents, and one long distance shot of Bret sans bandana was not enough to quench my eternal fire of curiosity about his hair. Is it a wig? A weave? Extensions? Could it be his real hair, something God cooked up in his follicles to resemble finely spun plastic as a joke? It has the shimmer of doll hair, the life of a pair of old pants and moves with the grace of Wayne Newton in a ballet class. I’m pretty sure Bret is not rocking a full head of blond hair and it’s more likely he won in at a cheap carnival than in the genetic lottery.

In the end Heather whored it up in a dress so lemon yellow it made lemons look white by comparison. There is a test in life and it’s sort of a test of self-awareness and how realistically you view yourself. Take the day you are supposed to look your best, be it prom or your wedding or some formal function where you have the chance to really pull it together. How do you look? Do you look like a radioactive dessert at the Mustang Ranch Sunday buffet? Or do you look sleek, svelte and understated in all the right places? Heather dolled herself up so much she would have gotten picked out of a line up of felonious drag queens, and I’m pretty sure Bret was looking for a pair of balls smuggled up her Wal Mart pageant dress. Jes on the other hand is 23 and cool and smart compared to her graduating class of pole-goers and he would have been a fool to pick her. In the ultimate rock star moment Bret had the stones to admit he was having a hard time deciding so he asked both girls to be his girlfriend. It was a no lose question! If they both said yes he’d have twice the bass to rock his world, if they both said no he could have said he was just kidding and if one said no he would take Jes and make up some reason he wanted to be with her. He picked Jes, the show ended beautifully and hopefully this rock neophyte will come to her senses and end her tour before this rose gets thorned.

He was cute. He dressed in black, with his shirt untucked. He stood about 5-11, better built than you'd think. He was soft-spoken and polite. He had several strands of cool beads and leather string around his neck. And he posed with anyone who wanted to take his photo. And he was the nicest guy attending the Reality TV Awards in Hollywood. And he had great, shiny, bouncy, very clean-looking hair. And he was, of course, Sanjaya Malakar, the shimmery, smiley, questionably talented boy toy who dazzled and charmed but didn't win last season's American Idol.

What are you up to?
I’m working on basically getting everything together.

What does that mean?
I’m working on an album and hoping it will come out next year.

That's great. We've been waiting so long.
Thank you.

What's the Sanjaya album going to sound like? Describe the Sanjaya sound.
It’s hard to describe. I haven’t been able to find a way to articulate the sounds. It’s very different. I want to bridge gaps and fill in places that don’t have my particular sound.

Even though you can't describe it, you can sing it, right?
Yes.

Without being pitchy?
I hope.

Or bitchy?
Never.

So what's life like for Sanjaya since Idol?
My life has been crazy. Everything has been happening fast.

What's the latest?
I’m moving to LA in November. I'm going to start the album after I move.

What reality TV shows do you watch?
I don’t want TV as much as I probably should since I am on TV. But when I do, I catch clips of different shows I do. I really like America’s Next Top Model.

Did you have favorite shows when you were growing up?
As a kid, I didn’t want much TV. My mom wasn't really into it.

What about movies?
I love movies. Disney movies.

What's Sanjaya's movie playlist?
The Fox and the Hound
Aladdin
The Little Mermaid
Beauty and the Beast
Cinderella

Have you seen anything out recently?
I saw The Simpsons Movie. But I fell asleep because I hadn’t slept for a like a week.

Your hair looks great.
Thank you.

What brand of shampoo do you use?
Shampoo? Whatever I have in my shower.

On Survivor: Pearl Islands, Jonny Fairplay reveled in playing dirty. But how will he fair changing dirty diapers? "Me and the diaper -- we're both going to stink," laughs one of reality televisions greatest villains, who revealed that he and his live-in girlfriend, Michelle Deighton, a contestant on the fourth cycle of America's Next Top Model, are expecting a baby in January. "She's pregnant with my little girl," says Fairplay. "We couldn't be happier." Fairplay and Deighton met on a show called Camp Reality that ran on Fox Reality and was produced by former Survivor competitor Burton Roberts. For Fairplay, the only thing more real than all that reality are wedding bells. "Marriage is in the future," he says. "But we aren't even engaged yet. One step at a time. She just let me have sex with her."

Before starting production on the third season of her Bravo series Jackie's Workout, fitness babe Jackie Warner enjoyed her summer -- maybe too much. "I gained 12 pounds!" says Warner, though it's impossible to tell from her tight white T-shirt and black leather hip huggers. "I'm glad you can't see it. But I can. I feel it, too." How'd she gain the weight? The same way as everyone else. "I traveled, I fell in love and I ate whatever I wanted, including a lot of cheese and beer," she says. "I also took three months off from working out. I just got sick of it. I said enough." And now that Warner, who moved to L.A. from Ohio to start her workout business (watch how it began by clicking here) is about to start her show again? "I'm doing two-a-days," she says of her workout. "Cardio and weights in the morning, and then kick-boxing or boxing in the afternoon. My fun is definitely over." Who does she think has the best body on television? "Besides me?" she says. "Hmm. Let's just say I hate fake boobs. Anyone who's natural; that's sexy to me."

REALLY?!

Tuesday was the taping of Fox Reality Channel’s 2007 Really Awards, and for the second year in a row I got to host the event that brought the most unlikely meeting of reality minds and bodies together at one bar. All I remember from last year’s event was Chyna Doll yelling at me from the audience for three hours, flashing her boobs and vomiting on herself, and this year I knew we were in for a treat because Fox Reality promised to up the voltage and the bar tab.

The event was held at Boulevard Three, one of Hollywood’s hottest clubs, and being centrally located and well known we knew it would be well attended. I started rehearsing at 11am and there was a giddy anticipation – the unknown lay ahead and the caustic mix of booze, cameras and narcissism promised to be a well shaken cocktail of chaos. They brought in a hot tub this year and the arm chair odds makers were trying to gauge who would go in. The hookers from HBO’s Cathouse? Definitely. Charm School girls? Probably. Guys dumb enough to think the hookers were average model/waitresses who were really interested in them for their looks? Hopefully. Being a germaphobe I gave myself an invisible 20 foot radius around the bubbling cesspool. I didn’t want to wander into any collateral flotsam and jetsam that would inevitably include bodily fluids one normally finds isolated in Pumkin’s underwear.

The reality stars started showing up at 3 and immediately I locked in on Sanjaya sitting at a table with his manager and another facilitator. He is a sweet boy who has lost the annoying “welcome to the universe of Sanjaya” swagger that turned me off during Idol. Instead I saw an eager and hard working smiley face who was approachable and genuinely excited for the night. We apparently couldn’t get the right transmitter for his headset so I didn’t get to hear him sound check before the show.

A group of three girls walked in with more silicone than a Beverly Hills surgeon’s supply closet and I thought to myself, “Oh! The Cathouse girls are here!” Then I saw the telltale black BRET tattooed in the back of the ringleader’s neck. Yes! It was Heather, Cristia and the blonde Brandi from VH1’s Rock of Love. I knew Bret himself would not be at our awards show; this event is too chaotic for his weave. But seeing the first runner up and hearing her story was almost as good as meeting the once glorious god of glam himself.

Heather’s face was sad the whole time. She has clearly not gotten over the rejection of coming in second after she emblazoned the guy’s name in a place only slightly less visible than her forehead. She made no attempt to cover his name, and in fact she wore her brassy stripper hair pulled off to the side in a ponytail that showcased her bad decision for all to see. Heather was quick to tell me Bret and Jes are no longer together and she has a clever idea for VH1 that will save her money on tattoo removal: she wants to do a bachelorette style show with all guys named Bret (or Brett presumably) so when she finally meets her prince she can keep her tattoo, dignity be damned.

Jonny Fairplay. He is Jekyll and Hyde personified. When he’s sober he is an insecure and unassuming fawn eager to engage people and desperate to be liked. He actually comes off a little needy. When he drinks he drinks too much and becomes all too eager to show off his a-hole side at all cost. He came up to me before the show and basically begged me to be nice to him and not make fun of him from the stage. I felt bad for him but I couldn’t make him any promises.

Our show had a lengthy stop down because of a blown generator so we had a good hour or so in the dark with working mics, so a host of drunken reality stars were onstage fighting for the microphone and a little extra attention. We had a walk off among the biggest drunks: Cao Boi from Survivor, Howie from Big Brother All Stars, Solitary 2.0 winner Phu Pham and Amber from Big Brother 8 (who wasn’t drunk but I wanted to see her walk after she made such a big deal about wanting to be a model) and believe it or not Amber won! Even though she may have been as sober as a nun the audience felt she was more impaired than her well-lubed counterparts on stage. Phu’s great display of the night was his PHU PHAM California license plate, which I lovingly gave to Amber as the winner of the walk-off. Sorry Phu.

Eventually the show resumed and we got to the Jonny Fairplay/Danny Bonaduce portion of the evening. Jonny was clearly drunk backstage as he waited to give out the award he won last year, the audience favorite award we call the Golden Realitini. I was waiting backstage where I entered and exited the whole night (and where I remained delightfully sober as not to compromise an ounce of rationality and brain power I knew I’d need to stave off the drunks and keep my sanity) and we didn’t have a TV monitor so I couldn’t see the show. All I heard was a thud and a collective gasp and I instantly knew something bad had happened.

There was a lot of murmur and pointing and Jonny Fairplay ran off stage humiliated holding his mouth as a stream of fresh blood trickled into his hand. At that point I still could not figure out what happened. The thud was too dull to be Jonny hitting the ground after Danny hit him so I assumed he had fallen from a riser or had climbed the balcony and blew the landing. I walked to the side of the stage and saw a sauced and shaken Alexis Arquette adjusting her man parts and railing against Bonaduce for his alcoholism and roid rage. I stood there for a second with my boss trying to figure out what had exactly just transpired as a producer pushed me toward the stage to get her off and get the show back on track. Now, I am a faithful employee and am willing to go into a shitstorm for anyone, but there is no way I am getting Alexis off. She can finish herself.

There was a lot of scrambling backstage as Jonny whimpered and bled, and all the onlookers were torn. He was clearly not gravely injured other than his missing teeth and bloody mouth, and you never know if a guy like that has hepatitis. As he bled in a heap you could see people weren’t falling all over themselves to help him either because they didn’t want to get bloody or they didn’t want to make his injury worse by poking around in a mouth of missing and broken teeth.

I didn’t see Danny after the incident and Jonny was quickly surrounded by some of LA’s finest firefighters and paramedics. He did pull the ultimate dick move by ripping a camera out of the make up artist’s hands and smashing it on the ground. When you straddle and dry hump a man onstage in front of thirty cameras and hundreds of people you have momentarily compromised your right to privacy. Dr. Jekyll’s diva fit was oddly timed and mostly ignored by the crowd of numb onlookers who weren’t sure if they had stumbled into a weird bit or a bad dream.

My favorite part of the night came from an unlikely unreality source. During our stop-down I was onstage talking to the crowd and at one point a very drunk (even by his peers standards) JP Palyock (from Survivor and Solitary 2.0) stumbled on stage and was hell bent on touching me and my dress. He would not take the hint that I didn’t need his ham handed caresses, and finally I told him if he didn’t stop I’d punch him.

I looked just off stage and a concerned older gentleman was watching our exchange and asked me, “Do you want me to take care of him?” I cocked my head, strained a bit and realized my knight in shining armor was none other than Saved By The Bell’s Mr. Belding. And that's reality, folks -- my reality.

Tyra has done it again! Being an equal opportunity spinster she has reached out to a new community. On the last cycle of ANTM this portly chatterbox boldly cast two plus sized models in the same house. Loyal viewers of the show all gasped in fear that these two Amazons would devour every ounce of food in the loft then turn their insatiable cannibalistic appetites on their dwindling anorexic housemates. This season T. Bankable has reached out to the autistic community and cast a girl with Asberger’s syndrome. Apparently it’s a condition that makes you want to stay in your room and ignore models who drive you crazy and say horrible things about you. I must have Aspberger’s. The strangest thing about mildly autistic Heather is how it forces her and every other person to pronounce the syndrome differently. Heather says OZ-berger and if I’m not mistaken Tyra called it ASS-BEAR-ZHER’s. That bitch is crazy. I call it ass-burger’s. It was my nickname in high school.

The star of this week was raspberry headed Bianca who has taken the reigns of resident bitch from former frontrunner (and former crackbaby) Ebony. Last week Bianca got in a fight with Lisa, this week she gave Kimberly bad advice on her walk and her main target became Saleisha. Her feud was unfounded because experienced Saleisha trampled her competition in the walking challenge and waltzed away with a free trip to Paris to run the way in Coleen Quen’s upcoming Paris show.

Skinny Yale-y Victoria also had a hard time with her awkward looks and constant need to refer to herself as a nerd. We get it, you’re smart, you got into Yale. Neat. Now shut up, stop attacking Twiggy and model! In the end it came down to bitchy Bianca and clueless Kimberly who had the finesse and grace of a fly in Crisco, and Bianca was spared the cutter so Dr. Tyra can later give her a transfusion. If Bianca doesn’t shut her piehole (and let’s be honest, this house needs a tart tongued crotch in order to keep the show interesting) she will end up in the bottom two again, but if Team Tyra follows the model of the show they’ll keep Bianca until the end (as they have with past bitches and non-winners like Renee, Melrose, Jade, etc…) and try and tame this shrew.

Jean Robert rubbed everyone the wrong way by rubbing up against the ladies as he sawed logs in the communal bed. James showed he was the intellectual of the bunch as he’s the only castaway in Survivor history to mention books (he admitted to spending 4 hours in Barnes and Noble reading survival books). They are both members of Fei Long, the resident tribe that’s been kicking ass and taking names, in Chinese.

The reward challenge was another physical battle that had the castaways trying to push each other off of planks into the water as they battled for pillows. Denise had the most unfortunate undergarments that revealed a disconcerting gunt. Here is a big problem: if you are cast on the show and board a plane for China, from the moment you leave your house WEAR A BATHING SUIT! For women this means a supportive top with some sort of breastal coverage so we are not subjected to your blurred and fighting jubbly bits popping out and scaring small children. The castaways this year were told they were going on a photo shoot so they all dressed pretty and were thrown into the game with the clothes they had on their backs. This is not the first time that’s happened, don’t you remember Pearl Islands and Rupert’s chafed balls?!!! They were thrown into the sea, suits and all and Rupert had to make a skirt out some extra fabric because his sea soaked jeans gave him diaper rash.

After Zhan Hu finally won a reward challenge Sister Christian Leslie was kidnapped from Fei Long and sang like a canary at a revival. She spilled the beans about her tribe and then went back to Fei Long and spilled the beans about her spilled beans. Her head was the price of traitorial fellowship and she was sacrificed at the altar of Jeff Probst’s dimples as penance for her sin of beans. I was surprised they didn’t send Mr. Burns, I mean Courtney, packing after her miserable turn with the machete. That girl is as useful as tits on a boar, but I guess Todd the Fei Long puppet master can drag her to the final four and demand her votes along the way. My favorite grave digger James might be in trouble if he continues cavorting with frotteurer Jean Robert, they both could end up rubbing people the wrong way and this sexy black man may be sent to the graveyard of castaways past if he’s not careful. Fear the reaper!

I am always slightly uncomfortable when I watch great Brit Gordon Ramsay eviscerate his newbies in the early weeks of Hell’s Kitchen, but even though this ginger fascist makes me gulp I still love HK and he is the star that keeps me tuning in. What I love about Kitchen Nightmares is the positivity Gordon exudes when he tells someone to f*@k off. It is far more loving.

The latest set of tards to get the Ramsay redux was a Belmore, NY family owned restaurant called the Mixing Bowl. Like the other two restaurants of this season the eatery is set a stones throw from Manhattan and is helmed by a lumbering Frankenstein of a manger who has let the place slide down the slope of incompetence. Owners Billy and Lisa have let their marriage mirror the path of their place and from the looks of their sad faces they’ve given up.

Gordo’s meal of crabcakes and zucchini is interrupted by the resident zombie manager who can’t stop staring at him and asks, “May I ask how you’re enjoying your food?” to which Gordon responds, “May I ask you to stop staring at me?” Come on now, that’s quick and pleasing with a bold finish. Eventually Gordon puts manager Mike’s cheesy signs in the wood chipper, inspires owner chef Billy to come out of the kitchen and rehabs the menu to include more healthy, spa-friendly cuisine. It works, the restaurant is saved and Lisa and Billy have not stopped copulating since.

I used to find Chef Ramsay a little repulsive. He has the forehead wrinkles of a geriatric pug, the accent of a Dickens orphan and the disposition of an arthritic old lady. I was baffled in the first couple of seasons how anyone could find this slice of carrot cake sexually appealing, but seeing Gordon in his element helping bring a family together and bringing out the best elements is a restaurant makes his expertise endearing. However it’s his alpha male strut and spiky hair that make him downright sexy. I was aroused. And hungry.

The hangover has set in. Rock of Love is over and now all the hoochies and hos have to slink back to their lives as bankers, doctors, teachers and whores. I will miss them. We were treated to one last hurrah as the menagerie of skanks assembled on stage for the cameras on the gratuitous reunion show.

Kristia and blonde Brandi C. were the first simpletons under the microscope and they automatically stood out on the show as “girlfriends” who rubbed their boobs together and promised to do whatever necessary to win the all access pass to Bret Michaels pleather pants. Even Bret had tired of the implanted blonde pseudo lesbian act and he eliminated the arguably hotter and dumber Kristia fairly early in the show. Kristia and Brandi C. have since moved in together and they will soon be joined by VH1’s next possible bachelorette, first runner-up Heather.

Lacey was a disappointment for me. She skirted questions about her delusional, perverted father whom I will always remember reclining on his daughter’s bed like a leach as he soaked in the view of Heather’s boobies with the off kilter smile of a molester. All the girls took a turn giving it to the biggest psycho to turn up on a dating show since that poor drunk oncologist cornered Bachelor Travis Stork to let him know her eggs were rotting. That lady didn’t make it past the first episode but crazy Lacey made it into the top three. Animal lover Lacey presented animal skin wearer Dallas with a t-shirt that said “Dallas Loves Michael Vick”. I thought that was pretty clever, you know a play on words because the girl’s name is Dallas and that’s also the name of a big city in Texas and maybe they have dog fighting there so maybe Dallas really does love Michael Vick. Everyone else accused Lacey of being a pole-smoking slut, and if these daggers penetrated her insane veneer they would have been satisfying but aging Lacey just shrugged off the slights like so much semen off a slut’s back.

The big shock of the night was too-mature-for-her-age Jes breaking up with Bret because he picked the wrong girl. After all the bad blood between Jes and Heather in Mexico it was a refreshing surprise to see Jes put aside their beef and share the truth we’ve known all along - Bret and Heather belong together. These two had an undeniable connection, there had to be something there to explain him keeping this trout faced drag queen until the end, and Jes is too young and cool to be his girlfriend. Bret and Heather are throwbacks to another era of big hair, lip gloss and hot pants (and that’s just the men!), and they deserve to ride the Sunset Strip into their golden years.

Bachelor Brad Womack’s less attractive twin brother tried to fool the ladies into believing he was Brad himself and only a few chumplettes fell for it. Brad passed out roses and stared at pictures and received sage advice to inform his decision on whose dreams to squash by denying them roses. Nine ladies remain. They are not trashy or raw or interesting like the participants in Rock of Love and I Love New York 2, and although these shows started as parodies of the Bachelor they have surpassed the prototype with better casting, more interesting dates and allusions to actual sex. The Bachelor has become a parody of itself with recycled story lines, girls who make pageant winners seem dynamic by comparison, false promises of romance and committment and those silly roses! At least the VH1 dating shows know who they are and what their purpose is: to entertain and accidentally pull people in to the emotional story lines as they develop. Do I really care if Bret Michaels finds a nice girl? Hells no! But I will have months of great stories to rehash with friends who watched with mouths agape. I cannot think of another person who watches the Bachelor (besides me) and if the show doesn’t have another Trista and Ryanesque relationship success it may eternally banish the bloom from its rose.

I fell in love with this show’s title the moment I heard it but I worried it would be a one trick pony parody show, instead it was well paced with intriguing hosts and a great cast that out of the gate promised to be one of my favorite new shows. I love America’s Next Top Model, but the catwalk has grown tired of Tyra’s retread challenges and the show now has to have a message in order to feed its self importance. It is ripe for a parody and Mark Cronin and company will inject the right tone and a heart into this promising vehicle.

Former presidential speech writer, economist and best-selling author Ben Stein helms this show along with credible fashionista, Bazaar’s Mary Alice Stephenson who has such adept comedic timing I thought she was a Groundling. The show has two challenges, the Edge and the Callback where the human coat hangers compete in intellectual and modeling challenges, and later they are eliminated in the Purge. The cast is a series of competitive pretty faces, none more so than Soviet Andre who wore a pair of jeans so low cut I swear I caught a glimpse of scrot. He is incredibly proud of his $6000 a month apartment, pretty girlfriend and washboard abs and admonishes the other soft models for eating sandwiches from the buffet. Andre looks like an old time boxer who got his lips stuck in an industrial vacuum cleaner. He is short and cocky and Mary Alice and her fashion friends took him to task for his diminutivity. He is going to be the break out star of the show because he is arrogant, blood thirsty and undeniably magnetic.

The saucy FHM/Playboy girls did not do as well under fashion’s magnifying glass and Mandy Lynn the Playboy model was luckily saved by Ben Stein’s breast fetish. With her silicone lips and skunk hair stripes she was an easy target for Mary Alice, but soon enough Mary Mary took pity on her and nestled her under her warm Balenciaga clad wing. She was spared, but Jami her Miss FHM Midwest counter part felt the power of the guillotine and was sent back to the vomitorium in the first round of cuts. Another dullard named Gaston (who admitted he wanted to be Kate Moss) was also sent back to Evitaville mostly because he’s dumb, misogynistic and struggles with his English. I spoke with Mark Cronin yesterday who assured me the show weeds out the dummies early on and will not rely on the initial joke to sustain viewers who will have a real competition on their hands as the cream of this beautiful crop rises just slightly above the mean.

The Twist: It has been a busy week for hook-ups on reality TV and this season’s twist on Beauty and the Geek has birthed one of the sexiest unions so far. One of the hot girl/nerdy guy couples has been replaced with a hot guy/nerdy girl and the hot guy Sam is a break out star.

The Ou-La-La: Every episode so far has had gratuitous shots of Sam coifing his man mane and feathering his nest of sexiness with all the gusto of his beautiful female counterparts. It was only a matter of time before his radar focused on one of the sexy she-things and he found his maiden in high cheek-boned and emotionally unsound Rebecca.

Going All The Way: This week their union appeared to go all the way as they thrust and groaned in grainy geek-o-vision while Sam’s helpless nerdlette lay in tears in the bunk below. This poor girl, she was worried her professors would see her in a bad light after her club promoting bed hopper decided to shake his sugar stick at sweet Becca just inches from her face. She came off unscathed and I think her precious reputation will remain as pure and intact as her hymen.

Domination: Will and Rebecca have dominated every challenge and as last week’s double winners they had the hard task of sending two teams into the elimination chamber, one of whom lived to fight another day and won their own challenge paving the path for retribution. Erin the beautician was crushed at having to go to elimination, but her partner’s win in the massage challenge set the course for revenge and she was ready for her happy ending.

The beauties had to build and fly rockets and Sam had enough brain cells to best the breasts, he channeled his memories of his bunk romp and sent his turgid rocket skyward. He and his partner Nicole were the next to send a pair to the dreaded elimination room which turned out to be a “battle of Wills” as William and Will faced off with their ladies. Will and Rebecca choked and Sam’s love interest took her tear stained cheeks out tha door.

My Opinion: I like this season’s twist only because of Sam, but I don’t think an entire season of all male beauties would do anything for the show. I think men are more superficial in their attractions and hook ups and the poor sensitive female geeks would be bowled over by testosterone and vanity. The geeky guy/hot girl dynamic is more interesting and fruitful and people tend to fit naturally in these divisions. Rescuing a cute nerd is a common fantasy for girls, and a brainy guy is attractive to us and helps fulfill the budding maternal needs of the fairer sex. Guys like to feel smarter and in control and a houseful of intimidated guys is a recipe for disaster for sensitive brainiacs who probably don’t need any more reasons to feel insecure.

McLovin’: Usually the Real World is full of drunks and sluts and douchebags, and this year’s cast, while appearing to have heart, seems no exception. Or you might say, they heart each other. Consider: Trisha has a boyfriend back home but still kissed this guy Alex, and Parisa who is not as conventionally attractive also likes Alex -- and they made out, too. Trisha’s fellow blond, Shauvon, believes in the unspoken code that once a friend shares mouth fluid with a boy he becomes her exclusive chattel and all girlfriends are forbidden from contacting his tongue henceforth. But Parisa crossed a line and violated the rules of sane Real Worlding by hooking up with a marked man. It is clear Alex is playing both sides of this nickel and wants nothing more than attention from two women who are living their lives on camera, and it’s also clear he likes Trisha more and is settling for Parisa because as far as kissers go she is easy.

Analysis: There are a couple of things in play here: 1) Parisa needs to stop falling for unavailable guys who are settling for her and who really want to hook up with her castmates (Dunbar and Kellyanne anyone?), and she needs to develop a keener eye and some self respect by finding someone eager to reciprocate her worthy affections. She also needs to bring a trashcan, plastic bag or other sturdy receptacle into the confessional so when she drinks and vomits she doesn’t soil community property. 2) Trisha needs to decide if she really wants to be with her boyfriend Jared, and if she does she needs to stop hooking up with other guys. If you are going to bother being in a relationship honor that commitment until you can have an honest conversation and allow your partner some dignity before you whore it up on cable’s biggest reality show. By the same token if you are in a relationship and you do have a chance and casual hook-up you cannot hold someone to the Code. Your smooching partner is off limits to no one, your boyfriend is and you should be too. 3) Shauvon is a hypocrite and gets very angry and borderline violent with men when she drinks. Parisa making Cohutta a grilled cheese sandwich was in no way an act of betrayal in the battle of the sexes, it was simply tasty drunkity-drunk food to soak up the booze before bedtime. Shauvon’s order of eggs and tomatoes was appropriate for a greasy spoon, not a thoughtful roommate trying to be polite by throwing together two slices of bread and some cheese. These ladies need to relax. I smell a booze filled orgy coming in the second half of this week’s cliffhanger. I’ll watch it with caution and a cocktail.

Real World Lessons:

1. Once a friend shares mouth fluid with a boy he becomes her exclusive chattel and all girlfriends are forbidden from contacting his tongue henceforth.

2. Think before you whore it up on cable TV.

3. Alcohol can make some women angry and borderline violent.

4. The Real World is either the sexiest show on TV or the show with the most sex. Or both.

This was America's Next Top Model's infamous makeover episode and I watched with glee and anticipation, especially since the episode was called “The Girl Who Goes Bald”. You go Tyra Banks! Everyone had the standard crop and weaves, and the stylists missed the mark with a few of the dos (especially Ebony’s second rate Naomi Campbell tresses and Saleisha’s misguided mop). The surprise came from Bianca whose hair was so damaged from color, straightening and glue they had to shave it all off leaving her misshapen head with a scant 2 millimeters of coverage.

We saw Nigel’s wife Crissy help out in the make up challenge. Could she be anymore beautiful? Good lord.

The girls had to give themselves five minutes of make up and Yale nerd Victoria assed out again. I have been growing sick of her “I’m just a smart girl who stumbled into these heels” routine. I know, toots, but guess what? You are not the first hot smart girl to sashay into this contest. Remember last season’s Whitney? She was a basketball player from Dartmouth and she was more attractive, more articulate and more interesting than you.

Victoria made the mistake of tangling with Twiggy again at panel and this legendary judge finally had enough. Victoria and Saleisha landed in the bottom two but nothing could save the uppity bookworm. Sayonara sweetheart, don’t let that library door hit you in the ass.

The Biggest Loser: I love it. Shrinking chubbies [watch clips] making their dreams come true. My heart swells with joy.

Survivor: China: This season has a boring cast but great challenges. I still love
Jeff Probst's dimples [relive a Probst moment by clicking here].

Tales of the Hoff: It's not out, not a single scene has been shot, and David Hasselhoff [check out this interview] is giving the writers more inspiration than they need. But I can never know enough about the Hoff. I long for all his tales. Can't wait for the show.

Danny Bonaduce-Jonny Fairplay: People continue to ask, and I officially have no comment on the Bonaduce/Fairplay incident. Someday I will -- when the storm of litigation passes.

On this sad sack of a cast: Attack of the moldy rice! How dumb do you have to be to store your grains in a wet bag? On last week's Survivor: China, we saw muscular grave digger James’ surprise at being the best trained “survivor” on his tribe, and he only spent a few hours in a chain bookstore reading up on how to stay alive. I swear this cast is nothing but a sad sack of dim chuckle heads who will be lucky if they escape the forbidden land alive.

What happened: A storm was a brewin’ on Zhan Hu after weeks of incessant pushiness from flabby Dave, and this week he met his match when busty bra wearing Sherea went to ditch his rice and discarded mussel shells. Dave was so flustered at her rice tossing he almost grabbed her and pulled her back into common sense, but Sherea the button pusher prompted his explosion knowing every step she took toward the cliff was sending Dave further over the edge. Whenever tribe discord is showcased this early in the episode you know the bickerers are going to battle for votes as imminent loss lurks on the horizon.

It’s Chinese to Me: As a viewer I have gotten nothing so far out of the locale, but the challenges that highlight Chinese history are so much more interesting than the six seasons of Survivor pirate challenges (not to mention the sunken turd known as Pirate Master). The working-together-with-chopsticks-and-fiery-balls challenge and the ancient-Chinese-armor-and-twine-balls-roped-together challenge were both great, and once and future dominators Fei Long prevailed in both, signaling their return to the top.

Good Riddance? In the end Dave’s kidnapping and plumber’s crack could not save his soon to be extinguished torch, and although his tribe missed his work ethic while he was cavorting with Chinese speaking Jean Robert (how odd was that??!) and the rest of the Fei Longers they did not miss his pomposity and pig headed aggressiveness. He and his floppy man boobs, soft stomach and former modeling career will be missed by no one, especially fans of the game who long for Ozzie’s athleticism, Yau Man’s resourcefulness and Rupert’s likeability. It takes more than arrogance to be an All Star.

Who’s Your Daddy: I am falling deeper and deeper into my fascination with Gordon Ramsay and Wednesday night I saw a different side to this tantalizing tyrant: he became Daddy.

His Mission: Gordon was sent to rescue West Islip, New York’s formerly fabulous Seascape Inn that has fallen into a decrepit coma since its owner passed two years ago. Son Peter and widow Irene have managed to run the joint on their own…into the ground. This place was ripe for the Ramsay touch with a putrid smell, rotten siding and the worst kitchen hygiene we’ve seen since the show started airing the American version.

The Problem: The common denominator in all of Gordon’s pet projects has been an ineffective manager or owner. In this case flaccid depressive Peter has been unable to take the bull by the horns because dear old dad never gave him a compliment, and his overbearing Greek mom seems to have severed his sack a few years back. This meeting with Ramsay provided Peter with the encouraging hammer he has wanted and needed all these years and Gordon even takes the chap boxing. Peter had a distracting welt on the end of his nose that was making bile rise in my throat throughout the hour, so I have to admit it was a little hard to get through this one.

Kicking Ass: Gordon is strong, confident and decisive. He knows what he wants out of a restaurant, a kitchen, cooks and managers, and when he sees a place run by a weak owner and a conceited chef it has to make his British blood boil. Realizing cocky cook Keith and his sous chef Charlie are carelessly churning out one diarrhea pile after another sends the chef into drastic action and he calls on Peter to fire them both. Peter slinks into the kitchen and says, “OK…you guys don’t have to come in tomorrow.” Wow buddy! Way to bring the hammer down!

Post Ass-Kick: They get the message, a new guy comes in and the restaurant is packed for its relaunch. After a few stumbles Peter learns to take charge and whips the lazy waitresses into shape. The Seascape Inn looks like it is set to sail into glory, but alas the final credit of the show informs us that Peter has sold his birthright to the highest bidder which had to infuriate short fused fire crotch.

Was It Something They Ate: The producers of the show must get so angry when they sink all that hard work and money into a place only to have it sold months later. Oh well Peter, maybe your new money will buy you what you really need…a loving male therapist who looks just like Gordon.

The Fats of Life: The Biggest Loser campus was closed for the week and the remaining chub squad headed to Jamaica to model their still unsettling bodies for some lucky tourists in the land of poverty and resentment. The reason the show takes contestants on vacation is so they can learn to survive in the outside world where they will be bombarded with temptation at every turn. Trainers barked orders as to what could be eaten, what should be avoided and Jillian was VERY insistent that her crew shouldn’t drink. This rubbed Jez the wrong way and I’m sure he took his asymmetric boobies out for some romance and a cocktail when Jillian went to bed.

Nerve/Gas: The challenge was almost one person lighter after Kim’s “B” was rushed to the doctor with chest pain. He was diagnosed with nerves and gas, no acute angina. The teams had to send one member at a time on a raft as they pulled themselves to the shore without falling in. Jillian’s black team was the only one to stay on their raft and they easily prevailed so they got massages and pampering while the other teams struggled through their workouts.

Jim Dandy – Not: In the end all the tae-totaling in the Great Antilles could not save Jillian’s juggernauts from losing the weigh-in. Both red and blue came up with big results and black’s meager weight loss sent them to elimination. The girthy Germanakos twins were immediate targets because two fat guys operating with one brain is just too damn dangerous! Jim was cut adrift from the campus and now his brother Bill must pick up the crumbs (and secretly eat them at night with some cold chocolate milk) and celebrate his birthday alone

Carrie Ann Inaba had her spanks in a bundle over phantom lifts that were apparent only to her. She constantly deducted points from the stars and throughout the night her numbers were one less than Bruno and Len’s.

We were treated to the lines and grace of the Viennese Waltz to classic waltz songs like “Piano Man” and “Mr. Bojangles”. Who are we kidding, I suffer through this show every once in a while because it’s popular and I assume some of you masochists like to read about it, and thanks to Tivo I can shuttle through an hour and a half in under 10 minutes. If this show was only an hour I might be game to stop and linger on a dance or two, but 90 minutes is SO gratuitous and such an utter waste of time and I’m amazed people sit through it in droves. Ballroom dance can be fun when it’s fast (think jive, cha-cha and swing), but these waltzes are so old fashioned they remind me of stale shortbread you’re forced to eat at your great aunt’s house. I know Jane Seymour hurt her back when she was young and her budding dreams were dashed and God knows she has been through her most painful days with the passing of her mom last week, but watching her lilt around the stage with her partner Franken-Tony dashes my dreams of watching an entertaining TV show.

There were some bright lights on this lifted show, mostly from Cheetah Girl Sabrina who had the first perfect 30 of the season. With great dancing ability comes great future disappointment and I think Sabrina is this season’s Melinda Doolittle. She is obviously the best one in the competition; she is so much fun to watch, but the one entertaining factor on this show is the improvement. Where is she going to go? Won’t it get boring seeing 30 after 30 for weeks to come? I want to see people like Cameron Matheson (naked) struggle with 8s and 9s and finally work his hiney off to EARN a perfect score. I liked Cam’s dancing last night but his Superman nonsense is getting a little old. Lose the cape, soap boy.

In a perfect world I would not be subjected to another week of Marie Osmond’s gums, but I think people really like her. If the Osmonds and the Romneys continue voting for her she will have a guaranteed spot in the top 3. She’s not great but she’s well liked. I think Floyd has not ingratiated himself to the blue-haired DWTS voters so look for his ass on the block along with Mel B. She’s OK but she comes with some weird baby baggage that makes her hard to latch on to. We like our Spice Girls well dressed, serious and married.

I don't want to go all Joan Rivers, but can we talk? Why is Samantha Harris back on the Dancing With The Stars just three weeks after having a baby? Doesn’t it seem a little soon? Don’t get me wrong, she looks amazing and happy, but having a few months off to snuggle a new baby seems a little more enticing than shoving a microphone into Mark Cuban’s goofy face. Two words: Hunter Tylo.

After a dip in ratings, ho-hum interest, and a near hijacking of the show by radio jock Howard Stern and boy toy Sanjaya, American Idol is trying to get back on track by returning to the basics – talent. According to American Idol executive producer Nigel Lythgoe, the standards have been increased for contestants hoping to find themselves going to Hollywood on the next season of the top-rated competition show. “We’re very, very picky this year,” says Lythgoe, who says the show’s judges Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson and Paula Abdul stuck to that rule during a recent a round of auditions in Atlanta. “We’ve cut out an awful lot of the crazies because, in truth, once we’ve got them on tape if we want to use them in montages we’ve got them so it seems silly wasting the real judges time, and we really want talent this year.” So do we, the viewers, but let’s keep in mind that talent comes in all shapes, sizes, and degrees of craziness. How else do you explain one of Idol’s own judges?

It’s that time of year again at American Idol. Judges Randy Jackson, Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul are sent out to ask a single question: Where’s the talent? According to Idol’s charming, funny, unflinchingly honest and ratings minded producer Nigel Lythgoe,, “San Diego was our strongest [city] this season. Atlanta has always been good and it was again. I think one of the weakest, unfortunately was Texas. We never seem to do well in Texas. I don’t know why. It’s like a Lone Star state -- that lone star being Kelly Clarkson.”

No, seriously: I think she is a miracle in the reality landscape with her bodacious new boobies and larger than life persona. When New York first appeared on VH1’s Flavor of Love (which, a miracle in itself, is shooting its third season) I thought the bitch was crazy. She was so mean to all the other hopefuls and was so hell bent on being with Flav she made stalking seem subtle by comparison.

She was willing to give Flav everything and compromise her body and family to win the teensy grandfather, and in the end he twice jilted and humiliated her for the “nice girl” leaving her no choice but to star in her own show. Season 1 of I Love New York had a really memorable cast of nut bars and thugs (Chance and Mr. Boston anyone?), and although it appeared she found the man to erase the flavor of Flav, Tango reneged his engagement and broke up with NY on the reunion show. Bummer.

She’s back: New York is back and this time she seems a little more serious. Don’t get me wrong, there are still the classic undersexed NY moments such as her curious excitement when Wolf cut to the chase and dropped this bomb, “I got a big d%@k”. Any self respecting bachelorette would have slapped the guy, thrown a drink in his face or walked away, but our girl stood there stammering in lust and struggled to pick her tongue and jaw off the ground. Wolf is hanging in there, along with little person Midget Mac who, although he scares New York and she worries kissing him will be like smooching a toddler, is one of the funniest and most likable guys on the show.

Who really loves New York: When I watch these shows I always think the pool of guys are a bunch of bulls%*t artists fighting each other for camera time, not NY’s heart. There are, however, eager guys like Tailor Made who bought NY $700 Manolos and dozens of roses and cried in shame when she brought up his failing marriage because he crazy loves her. There are plenty of other crazies to go around (like lantern jawed honkey-snitch Cheezy and incoherent rose stealer It), but it’s the wimps like Unsure who regifted NY an ill fitting jacket then quit the show that work our girl into an angry lather. After three seasons of bastards using our heroine as no more than a stepping stone and receptacle we are finally ready to meet the man who has REAL love for New York.

Location, location, location: There is one bone I have to pick with the producers of America’s Most Smartest Model, Surreal Life and I Love New York: they keep using the same house! I know they have re-roofed the Surreal Life house with some lovely mixed glaze mission tiles and painted the outside a delicious raspberry pink, but having two shows run concurrently in the same setting is a little distracting. There are plenty of houses with glorious views and endless rooms for rent in the Hollywood Hills and the San Fernando Valley (the Valley homes would need a thorough disinfecting swab), so change it up boys because it’s distracting.

Back to the (naked) models. This week the game show aspect kicked in with a Jeopardy style challenge called “Puzzle Me Pretty” and we got to see the masters and slackers of trivia battle it out for important photo shoot accoutrements like make up artists, clothes and props, and some participants suffered from their ignorance and literally did the shoot naked. Pudgy Jesse who’s been called out by Mary Alice and the fashion chorus had to pose au natural, and although he hit the gym for two days it wasn’t enough to mask his bulging middle parts and weak arms. The less he wears the worse his chance of winning. Randy Russian Andre also got shafted in the trivia game when his partner chose lipstick over clothing after he got her lingerie and a make up artist. This caused a colossal campfire screaming match and Andre and Lisa’s chances of prevailing at the photo shoot crumbled with every accusation and insult.

Living to sweat another day: In the end the fancy fashion photographer guided some teams and sabotaged others, and avocado chinned Dr. Pickel charmed the best shot with his sexy nurse Aussie Rachel. This infuriated the red hot Russian who landed in second place after choking his partner with a strand of pearls. Andre pissed of his partner with his attitude, the photographer with his arrogance and Mary Alice with his audacity, who found the picture too violent to reward. Mary Alice knew how upset Andre and Lisa were after the trivia and the choking picture hit too close to home. If these two had gotten along like old school chums they may have won (they did have the more interesting picture) but Andre’s real life rage made the image too creepy for comfort. Jesse was again penalized for his paunch and landed in the bottom two with his partner Erika, but he’ll live to sweat another day in the gym as his saucy short Latina landed in the dumpster of least smartest models.

Surprise, surprise! Nigel Lythgoe, the executive producer of Fox’s new competition series The Search For The Next Great American Band, doesn’t list any great American bands among his all-time favorites. No Velvet Underground. No Eagles. No Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band. “I grew up in the Sixties, so the Beatles had a huge impact on me,” says Lythgoe, who grew up in Liverpool. “I lived all the way through the Sixties; the Stones, the Who, and loved everything that went on. He also cites the Yardbirtds and Zeppelin among his favorites. As for the bands on the new series, he says, “I think the Eagles are tremendous and I think we have a band that could really give them a run for their money.” The show debuts Friday. We haven't seen it, but it sounds like fun.

Catching Up: This week’s show started with an interesting beach challenge that had the contestants walk with heavy metal frames that weighed 60% and 75% of the women and men respectively. The two dominant players, Hollie and Phil, set the stage for a Shakespearean tragedy that began with Hollie’s dominance and ended with Phil’s triumph. His red team won and got videos from home, and just like the Survivor home videos if you were not moved by these messages and the reactions of the contestants there is something quite wrong with you (sociopath). “Cowboy” David was reduced to a puddle at the sight of his countless kids and their well wishes, and we found out he has a hot wife! He must be packing more than his saddle bags in the bedroom (winkety-wink).

Work It: The workouts were especially hard for trainer Kim this week, not because she was running a particularly intense session rather her charges started to mutiny. David was puttering duck footed at a mere 2.5 on his treadmill and Kim wanted him to ramp it up to 3.0 so he could see some results. Come on lady! That guy’s not just carrying around a few extra pounds and a set of pare tires, he’s also lugging a tripod. Obviously FCC decency laws preclude Cowboy from whipping out his extra appendage to help him out on his runs, so until you find a better solution for his 4 kilos of kielbasa BACK OFF LADY!

The Weigh-In: Back to the contest…Big Bob Harper’s once floundering Blue Crew came up big in the weigh in with half his team in double digits. They lost an impressive 2.74% of their total body weight trouncing the red and black teams. Black came close also in the 2% range, but red had a dismal week with a mere 1.28% weight loss. Their biggest loser was David who shed a meager 5 pounds so he couldn’t be voted off. Kim gave the team a stern dressing down (thankfully they were clothed, although the man boobs are starting to look more family picnic than pornography) and exhorted the team to come to a group decision and keep B and Phil whom she called the soul of her squad.

Good-bye: If a team ties at elimination the weigh-in winners come in and break it with a single vote. The two clear choices for elimination this week were weak Amy (who cried and said Kim threw her under the bus when she told everyone not to vote for Phil and B and they knew they couldn’t vote for David, and that left Amy with treadmarks on her tuchus) and strong, confident Phil of the future. This team has won 5 of the 6 challenges because of Phil who is a former NFL player and future hottie once he loses the rest of his weight, and he is a marked man in the eyes of black and blue because of his dominance. In the end it was a tie and Phil was sent home to tackle his wife and daughter.

Condolences: In an emotional ending to the show Hollie had to leave for her mother’s bedside who was once again battling leukemia. Her mother passed shortly after Hollie left and the players were devastated. Hopefully this girl will use her mom’s memory as sweet motivation to come back and win the game. We’re thinking of you Hollie!

Stomach turning torture: Once again Gordon Ramsay stumbled into a commuter hamlet just outside New York City, but instead of combating a condemnable kitchen and rotting food her found a pristine food museum, the Olde Stone Mill. Dean is the restaurant’s headstrong owner whose pride and ignorance has helped the once good food slide down the toilet. Gordon had a field day sampling the menu before he made his suggestions, and by “field day” I mean prolonged, stomach turning torture that couldn’t have ended fast enough.

Stupid food tricks: Since the food is so bad they have resorted to tricks and gimmicks like serving calamari in margarita glasses, lobster stuffed tilapia in a paper bag and chopped salad in a funnel shape, and they committed the ultimate crime by serving canned crab in the crabcakes – and lied about it! Gordon always orders the crab cakes, and chances are if he’s in your restaurant to help you he probably won’t like them.

Gordon deodorizes: GR finally sits down with Dean and his lovely and naïve wife Barbara to hear how the restaurant is really doing and the state of the union is dire. The restaurant is a half a million dollars in debt and he’s carrying two mortgages and a HELOC. Basically…he’s screwed! As dim as Dean’s outlook is, he still manages to wedge his head further up his ass throughout Gordon’s visit and repeatedly insults the one person who could help him out of his hole. Dean is also anchored down by an apathetic chef and ineffectual GM who sweats in stinky buckets when he’s nervous. Gordon’s changes make him extremely nervous and he smells so bad that Gordon banishes him to the bathroom so he can swab his stank pits before subjecting customers to anymore rank odor.

How dare Gordon: Gordon tools around town on his Harley to check out the competition and finds sweet Tuckahoe is missing what busy carnivores crave most, a good steak house. When Gordon takes a slab of beef back from the local meat shop Dean is incensed that Gordon has the nerve to suggest such a simple change. I guess he was expecting a pan-Asian cornucopia or complicated French cuisine because the thought of throwing out the menu in favor of steaks is too much for this proud hothead to bear. The nerve! How dare Gordon try and reformat this place and turn in to a need-filling moneymaker. The place falls apart the night of the relaunch and Dean blows a gasket at chef Mike who is collapsing under a broken printer. The tirade echoes in the dining room and Hizzoner, the mayor of Yonkers, nearly chokes on a piece of gristle at the ruckus.

Update: In the end the