I am screaming and punching myself

Flavor de Amor 1-8: Meet NY's Moms/Loogie!

Now, to most viewers, this episode was memorable because of the loogie Pumkin spat onto New York. I've included that video in this recap for the loogie-lovers. (Someone on YouTube dubbed it "Flavor of Spit." Hee!)

But to me, this episode was most memorable for its introduction of one of the greatest reality-TV villains of all time: New York's moms. This walking nightmare provides strong evidence that "asshole" is a dominant trait when carried on the mother's side.

Flavor-o-Love 1-6: Brigitte Neilsen Busts Out a Lie Detector

Relative to the wacky antics of the first two episodes that I've recapped here, this is a comparatively tame hour in the company of Flav and the skanks. It's still utterly jacked-up, though, so it makes for good viewing. It's easy to get overwhelmed by Flavor of Love. Some columnist on ESPN described it thusly: "Each episode is like a fine port, and must be savored." No, I don't remember who; my brain is uniquely configured to disregard all sports-related information immediately.

They both are so excited, 'cause they're... reunited, hey hey.

Aw, whoooo's a dickweed? Yes he is! Yes he IS!

What could be better than the combination of two of my favorite things, dogs and Project Runway?

1. Keith being rushed to the hospital following a well-earned beatdown from Laura. ("She's Bad Mommy. I had a good mommy." Actually, you little stain, good mommies stick up for the people they care about, like Laura did for Michael, while bad mommies raise their kids to think the sun shines out of their ass and they can do no wrong.) Sadly, this option did not occur this week.

2. Adding Ivanka Trump to the mix! Now, if you hadn't seen the most recent season of The Apprentice, you might have rolled your eyes at the introduction of Donald Trump's daughter. But as she proved on her daddy's show (and, apparently, in a documentary on rich kids that I haven't seen), Ivanka manages to be rich, smart, razor-sharp and quite pretty -- and thoughtful, humble, kind, diplomatic and astonishingly perceptive. She's well-educated in the formal sense and did some modeling in the late 90s, so she's a pretty good choice for guest-judging on PR. Something, I don't know what, keeps her from being a girl-crush on the order of a Klum or a Latifah, but I did note that the judges positioned Trump and Klum on opposite ends of the judges' row, as if to prevent a supernova of awesomeness from erupting if they got too close. Either way, it was delightful to see her. I want more of her on my TV (and less of her dad).

After recovering from the obligatory "Awwwww, doggies doggies doggies!" babble-and-drool session that occurs whenever I see 1 cute dog, let alone 13 of them -- let alone 13 of them being simultaneously walked by an especially fastidious-looking Tim Gunn -- I was struck by this thought: Angela and Vincent are still there. Angela and Vincent are still there. How is that possible? How have they managed to stay on the show despite their obvious shortcomings in the areas of design, communication, teamwork and sanity?

My theory is this: the judging that we're seeing this season is a reaction to last season, which produced two finalists who played it a little too safe (and Santino). While they were both certainly competent, Daniel and Chloe didn't exactly produce show collections that were gonna set the world on fire. And since the stated goal of the show is to find "the next great American designer," this season, the judges have decided to reward risk, no matter how bizarre that risk may be.

The problem with that is that it results in perfectly fine, if somewhat underwhelming, garments losing and decent designers being sent home, while outfits that look like a 4-year-old put them together and the off-the-grid-and-off-their-meds designers responsible are allowed to stay far longer than they should. I think it's a case of overcorrection that will hopefully right itself eventually, but I was sorry to see Malan go last week, and even sorrier to see Katherine go this week. Her dress was a little plain, but still attractive, and I liked the hem technique and loved the color scheme. I only wish she'd had time to make the hoodie for her model; I think that totally would have saved her. Let's pause for a moment of silence and whimper a little over the abject cuteness of that picture.

[Speaking of cuteness, Jeffrey is starting to edge into my good graces, thanks to his obvious affection for his little Corgi client. I've made my peace with the neck tattoo, and he consistently turns out dresses that are unique and interesting. I think he might be the contestant who can combine risk-taking, attractive design and good construction. That's right: I think he might just win this thing. I just hope he knocks it off with the Rush Limbaugh terminology; one more "feminazi" and you're dead to me, Neck-Boy.]

The contestant I was hoping they'd send home is, of course, Keith. Yes, his dress was gorgeous, but he didn't freaking complete the assignment. Hell, even Bradley managed to make a little collar for his dog (while looking and coughing like a Dostoyevsky character dying of consumption) after pinning together a shell top that the judges inexplicably adored. What the hell was Keith's excuse? And would he have tried to pull that crap if Michael Kors was on the panel? Frankly, between the groping of Miss USA last week, the "Bad Mommy" business this week and the obvious contempt Keith had for the judges, all of whom happened to be women, I'm wondering if he doesn't have Major Issues. Just a thought.

And like the rest of you, I'm eagerly awaiting next week's ejection of a rule-breaking contestant. I think it's gonna be Keith, 'cause he's just that arrogant. I believe the whole business with Kayne talking about rules is a decoy and that Kayne is just anxious, trying to make sure he hasn't unknowingly done anything wrong. I could, as always, be mistaken, but damn, that's gonna be some great TV next week!

Flavor of Love 1-4: A Visit from Flav's Moms

Before we begin the recap of this fine episode, I need to introduce some of the other skanks that have lasted this long in the game.

First, let's meet Pumkin. Yes, that's how Flav spells it, without the second "p," but phonetics are really the least part of Pumkin's dodginess. For one thing, she repeatedly says that she's "a substitute teacher and a cheerleading coach," rattling it off in such a rehearsed way that you can't help but wonder what she really does for a living -- and then immediately decide you don't want to know. For another thing, she claims to be 24. Look at that picture, y'all. If she's 24, I have yet to vote legally. I will say this for Pumkin, though: she knows how to play the game. Bless her opportunistic heart, she plays tonsil-hockey with Flav every chance she gets, without a single flinch.

We also have Hottie, who I can only presume got that name because of her enormous breasts. She mentions that they're all natural quite often, but this is utterly unnecessary because, clearly, gravity has affected them as only natural breasts can be affected. Hottie is more than a little bit unhinged, as we'll see in this episode, but it's the wacky, can't-get-right kind of unhinged (as opposed to the stab-you-with-a-sharpened-spoon kind of unhinged that New York brings to the table). She's prone to batting her eyelashes, and the genius editors of this show accompany each blink with a bicycle-bell sound. It's awesome.

Far less whimsical is Oyster. She apparently dubbed herself Red Oyster as some kind of weird tribute to her even weirder attempt at making the Guiness Book of World Records for the longest amount of time spent in red clothing. She's worn red every day for at least six years -- yeah, I know. I can't decide which is weirder: if she's doing this out of some fanatical love for a color, or if she's doing this because it's easier than actually developing an interesting personality. Either way: freak. I also tend to think she's a plant, both for her habit of telling Flav what everyone's doing behind his back and for the complete lack of chemistry between them.

This is Hoopz. She is very pretty.

Finally, we get to Sweetie, who's just kinda odd. In the first episode, she expressed her hope that "Flav would look into my eyes and see into my soul and just be like, 'Shout it!' " I have no earthly idea what that means. Shout what? In the third episode, she "won" a date with Flav (to Red Lobster -- hee!) where he asked her the mortifying question, "If I was to date you, how long would it take before I could taste your mouth?" Three weeks, she told him. His response was something along the lines of "What?!" (Maybe that's what he was supposed to shout.) Anyway, we'll see more of Sweetie in this episode.

Flavor of Love 1-1: Meet the Skanks

My take on Flavor Flav has varied over the years. I'm a fan of Public Enemy, but Chuck D was always my favorite member of the group. That said, Flav certainly made a nice comic foil to Chuck's deadly intensity and was a worthwhile addition to the mix, even if his voice did annoy me. During his stint on The Surreal Life, I came to see Flav as an eccentric but sweet guy, and a surprisingly talented, versatile musician. In the words of a young music student who was part of an SL house task, "Flav taught me to rock out on my accordion. I love him for that."

In that season of SL, he met Brigitte Nielsen, the 8-foot-tall ex-wife of Sylvester Stallone (and a few other dudes). They fell madly in love, as only the compatibly mentally ill can. I didn't bother watching Strange Love, the spinoff show that chronicled their relationship, but I know that it ended with Nielsen marrying a twentysomething Italian soccer player. I've included all this stuff to make two central points:

1. Flav's true love is, and always will be, Brigitte Nielsen. So he's not searching for romance so much as he's searching for a decent rebound.

2. Flav, although quite the spectacle, isn't as entertaining as he thinks he is. The true stars of Flavor of Love are the women vying for his affection. Or, as I fondly call them, the skanks. Let's meet them, shall we?

Blogging Fo(o)L

This could very well be the stupidest thing I've done all week (and it's only Wednesday). I've decided not only to recap and blog exhaustively about Flavor of Love Season 2, but to post recaps of my favorite episodes from Season 1. So, for the next seven weekdays, I'll comment on my favorite moments from some choice chapters in the first book of this epic saga.

My tentative schedule is as follows:

Date   Episode # and the name I have given it
7/26   1 - Meet the Skanks
7/27   4 - Meet Flav's Moms
7/28   6 - Brigitte Nielsen Busts Out a Lie Detector
7/31   8 - Meet New York's Moms/Loogie!
8/1     9 - Do You Remember the Time?
8/2     10 - Flav Picks a ... Winner?
8/3     11 - Reunited, And It Feels So Very Wrong

The only misgiving I have is the frustrating amount of technological diddling involved in getting an episode from my TiFaux to a format I can work with on my PowerBook. I have to play the episode on the TiFaux while recording it on the DVD recorder, then finalize the disc and pop it into the computer. Then, I have to convert it from a DVD file to a .mov file (which is not a speedy, byte-conserving process) and then open it in iMovie and snag screen shots from there. There has got to be a more efficient way to do this, and I'd welcome any suggestions on how to get it done.

But let's start on an optimistic note nonetheless! At some point today, I'll post a recap of "Meet the Skanks." With any luck, it'll even have screen caps!

"...bright copper kettles and farts into mittens..."

Yes, it's time for a "these are a few of my favorite things" post. I visit the following sites just about every day -- honestly, nothing can put me in a good mood quite like the Rosie montage -- and I thought I'd share some of the goodness with y'all.

1. Great Moments from "Riding the Bus with My Sister" [scroll down the page until you see the little window]

Yup. The TV movie where Rosie O'Donnell played a developmentally disabled woman. Now, before you stone me, let me clarify that I am in no way laughing at or condoning laughing at the disabled. The comedy here doesn't come from the situation; if anything, I'm surprised that mentally challenged folks weren't up in arms over their representation in the movie. What makes it horrifying -- and funny -- is that this is clearly Rosie's idea of what a mentally challenged person behaves like: a deranged Muppet. What the hell is up with that voice? Have you ever heard anyone -- of any degree of mental capacity -- talk like that while sober?

If you watch it enough, you'll find magic throughout the clip, in such details as the dopey acoustic music. The note progression that concludes the "The moon will always find you/Aaaaaagh, the bus!" sequence can now crack me up all by itself. And the whole clip is made all the more ghastly by the fact that Angelica Huston directed the movie. Yes, that Angelica Huston. Uh huh, the one with the Oscar and the great director for a father. This clip is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

2. Mike Britt is Captain Save-a-White-Girl

You might not remember the video clip that circulated on the net this spring showing oil(y) heir Brandon Davis trash-talking Lindsay Lohan while Paris "Fart in a Mitten" Hilton walked behind him, chatting on her phone, whispering encouragement in his ear and giggling like a slack-jawed imbecile. Between Davis' slurred, nonsensical insults of Lohan's career, bank account and redheadedness and Hilton's obvious cackling delight and drunk driving, the clip did more to advance class warfare than any tax cut ever could.

In response, comedian Mike Britt not only gallantly rode to Lohan's defense, he gave voice to the many levels of hatred that Davis and Hilton's behavior stirred in most viewers. This clip just makes me want to pump my fist in the air.

3. The Dog Blog

Perhaps the greatest worship of dogs is performed by those who do not have a dog of their own. This guy takes pictures of dogs he sees tied to things on the street or riding in the back of a car and posts the pictures with commentary. What makes it such a wonderful place to visit is that his love of the entire species comes through every single picture and comment. He refers to the dogs as "this captain," "this champion," "this winner" and -- my favorite -- "this President of the United States of America" (applied to a Weimaraner). The only thing I would ever change about this site is to have him post a new crop of dogs every few days. But I'll take whatever I can get from this site; it's that good.

4. Have too much time on your hands?

Then go here, and watch that pesky stuff-of-which-life-is-made just disappear! This game -- lord, I question the wisdom of passing it along at all -- is severely addictive. And cute!

Self-serving quick link update

HoleCity has posted my reviews for both Lady in the Water and My Fucked-up Brady: Against the Advice of Everyone We Know and Basic Common Sense, We Got Married. Damn, between M. Night Shyamalan casting himself as a brilliant writer and the Brady atrocity, it was a good weekend for hubris, wasn't it?

"Oh, hell no."

"Yup."

"But they don't even seem to like each other when they're not making out in public. Oh, this'll end badly."

"Girl, tell me something I don't already know."

...And through the clouds I see Flav shine

I have seen some beautiful sights this week: my sweetheart's smile, the cats stretching on the sofa, the comments from old and new friends on this freshly-minted blog of mine, the radiant Heidi Klum on Project Runway. But this, I am ashamed and delighted to admit, blows them all away:

Don't get me wrong; the promo for Flavor of Love 2 was its own kind of magic, showcasing skanks behaving badly to the strains of "I Wanna Know What Love Is" by Foreigner. But this clip surpasses even that.

"I stripped for three days, but they didn't have no practice pole, so I had to quit." Now, that could very well be an actress (Sarah Silverman?) speaking a line concocted by an evil genius screenwriter. But you know what? I don't care. I do not care if the whole of the Flavor of Love project is as fake as $5 weave, if all the skanks are real actresses instead of aspiring ones and every moment is planned like a thermonuclear exercise. I don't care, because that is some of the most horrifyingly entertaining mess that has ever appeared on my TV, and I wouldn't trade one minute of it.

August 6 simply cannot arrive soon enough.

Threads from Project Runway

Some good points were raised in the comments to yesterday's ProjRun post, so I thought I'd expand upon them a little bit.

My beloved friend Herm (consort to the queen of the Bling Blog and a fantastic designer and all-around bad-ass himself) showed some love for Malan's couture creation. And I have to say, the bodice boasted some amazing craftsmanship, although the hem was very much a first-year-student error. Frankly, I would've blamed the hem on Katherine's inexperience had we not seen  footage of Malan demonstrating how to get the hem "the perfect length." (Perfect for the diminutive Miss USA, maybe; perfect for a skyscraper runway model, not so much. And did anybody catch the look on his model's face when he said she had a really long torso?)

While the hem was probably the defect that got him auf'ed, I don't think he was helped by his color choices. On the one hand, you could say he used very sophisticated browns; on the other hand, when Tim Gunn says your creation looks like a yule log, you're probably in the wrong region of the color wheel. I have named the darker color "Devils Food" and the redder tone "Blood in the Stool."

Jenny pondered the wording and/or significance of Jeffrey's neck tattoo. According to the Detroit Free Press, it says "Harrison Detroit/the love of my life" (the second part is in Italian) and refers to Neck-Boy's son, who is named Harrison Detroit. Okay, yes, it's very sweet to have your kid's name and a declaration of love imprinted on your skin forever. But I can't help but wonder: what if he has another kid? "Um, well, yes, your brother was the love of my life at the time. Now I love you both. Of course I love you equally! It's just that the back of my left thigh was the only area left unmarked by the time you came along. But I want the world to know how important you both are to me -- why do you think I wear shorts so often?"

Then again, there's no guarantee that Jeffrey has thought that far ahead. I mean, nothing says "I don't plan to live past my mid-40s" like a neck tattoo. Personally, I like to imagine that instead of "Harrison Detroit," it says that the love of his life is actually Doctor Detroit, and that Jeffrey's deep, dark secret is that despite his punk-rawk exterior and postmodern art aesthetic, he believes to the core of his being that Dan Ackroyd is incapable of making a bad movie.