As with the Flavor of Love franchise, the nominal "prize" of a VH1 dating show may think he's the star, but he is soon eclipsed by the women vying for him. (Only New York was able to keep the focus on her during I Love New York, and I kind of have to respect her for that, a little, tiny, begrudging bit.) This week, a couple of contestants stood out, for rather different reasons. One for her inexplicable belief in the possibility of finding love with a middle-aged dude in eyeliner and extensions, the other for her continued commitment to weirdness (tm Rich).
Like you didn't know who I was talking about.
We begin this episode, appropriately enough, at the bar after the previous episode's elimination. Brandi C. is talking about plastic surgery, but not the kind you might think.
Although she's making the "gazonga" gesture, she's talking about lip injections. Yeah. Weird, eh? She abruptly changes topics to mourn the loss of Kristia, her "best friend" (for, what, 72 hours?) and decides that she doesn't want to bother with the rest of the girls, anyway. So I'm not sure to whom she's opining about lips there. Eh, maybe she's talking to her dear friend Booze.
Rodeo is also feeling the pain of separation, only she's feeling it for someone she actually knows: her son. Before long, she's sobbing outright.
The other girls offer her some sympathy and support. Well, most of them do. Lacey, to whom the misery of others is like sweet, sweet Tofutti, says that she sees Rodeo's sadness as an opportunity and tells Bret.
I think Lacey's little move might have backfired, because Bret seems sympathetic to Rodeo's longing for her son. He holds her and comforts her, then heads back to his room to ... I dunno, give his tracks a hot-oil treatment or something.
Outside, Brandi C. is cracking up the non-skanks who are teasing her about being drunk by retorting, "I wish I was as drunk as I look!" No, you don't, dear; your liver would be in a puddle on the floor if you were that drunk.
How drunk is she? So drunk that she decides to wait outside Bret's room and petition Big John for entry -- again, using the gazonga gesture; I guess that's her universal symbol for "I want something." She is rebuffed by Juan Grande, to the boozy delight...
... of Heather. And, scene.
The next day, Bret awakens the girls by playing blues harmonica into a PA system. It's like a reveille created from things he had lying around the house. He tells them that because his old lady should be the creative type, he's pairing them up and challenging them to write lyrics to one of two tracks (uptempo or downtempo) going into his next album.
What I love about this shot is the body language. The 3 remaining members of the "A Team" have their arms around each other, while Jes is very definitely keeping her hands to herself. (Also, I think Brandi M. is resting her head on Sam's shoulder, which is kinda sweet.)
The pairings will be: Heather and Magdalena, Mia and Rodeo, Sam and Brandi C., Jes and Brandi M. and Lacey and Erin. They'll have 2 hours to come up with a song based on the theme "Love Is..." Ah, man, as schmaltzy as these girls can get, this is gonna hurt. Sam is a little anxious about her partner; Heather and Lacey are flat-out pissed. Rodeo and Mia, however, seem happy to be paired, and Rodeo plans to win.
(Sorry about the rough ending on that one. I just wanted to make sure I got the creak in there.)
The pairs head to various outposts around the house to start composing. Erin reminds Lacey that she has no musical background, training or ambition.
Damn, the more I look at them, the more surreal Erin's hooters look to me. They're starting to creep me out.
Meanwhile, Mia is having a little trouble containing Rodeo's musical ambition.
"What's with the stuff about kids?" asks J as he watches this with me, and I second his reproach. Kids and rock music tend to be a bad mix; doesn't anybody remember "When the Children Cry"? Already, I like Mia for being the reference point of sanity in the Rodeo circus (two activities that Lacey probably objects to).
Okay, Erin? Go up a shirt size. At least one. You've got a nasty case of quadraboob, and your hoots look like they're coiled to strike.
Sam and Brandi C. get a headstart on the lyric-writing process when Sam busts out the journal she's been keeping. Brandi calls the notebook "creepy," but I suspect Brandi is unnerved by the mere act of note-taking.
Elsewhere, Heather is flat-out annoyed by Magdalena's rhyming "taking me above" with "that's when I knew I was in love." The second line isn't too bad, but I'd say "of" is always a better choice if you absolutely must rhyme something with "love." I feel that it's Heather's duty as a native speaker of English to point this out. Heather feels that it's her duty as a useless dingrod to drink beer and trash Magdalena's suggestions without providing any input of her own.
Of course, not all input is helpful.
This marks the first of many "Jeez!"s from J whenever Rodeo mentions kids. Ordinarily, Rodeo has a one-track mind that is solely devoted to the pursuit of Bret, but she's created a second track for der kinder, and Mia is clearly regretting being paired with her.
I feel you, girl. Especially considering what you had to work with.
I don't even know what to do with that lyric. Rainbows? Wanting to fly? Grabbing your kids L.A. style -- what, like in a stretch Hummer? And what's this about loving right? The woman can't get right, let alone love right! I can't tell if this is the worst lyric never recorded, or the greatest lyric ever lost to the collaborative process.
Brandi M. and Jes figure they can get by on charm and punk-rock energy alone. I suspect they're right.
It takes Lacey the better part of an hour to teach Erin a 4-count. I swear, the "clown tits" are one vigorous beat away from exploding out of that shirt, and I worry that they'd take out anyone in a 10-foot radius if they did escape.
Sam tries to teach Brandi C. to sing, but it's to no avail. I honestly can't tell if Brandi C. is genuinely tone-deaf, or if she's trying to sound like a kid in an Oscar Meyer weiner commercial (insert weiner joke here) because she thinks it's cute. Either way, I admire Sam's patience.
Showtime!
First up are Lacey and Erin. The song is performed almost exclusively by Lacey in that little baby voice of hers; it's not her best work, unlike, say, this. The great part of the performance is the obvious terror which which Erin bangs spastically on a tambourine.
We see Bret in the audience, air-tambourine-ing to indicate which beat should get the strike, but Erin is beyond beat, beyond rhythm, beyond even knowing when the song ends. It's great.
Then Magdalena and Heather do their slow-jam thing about knowing when they were in love. I can't tell if Heather is trying to dress like Bret or trying to dress like a death's-head in a snood.
ladies and gentlemen, the last thing a bottle of tequila ever sees.
To cleanse our palettes from this distressing scene, we are then treated to Jes and Brandi M.'s rocker-girlfriend anthem.
I've been adoring Brandi M.'s look throughout the episode, and I suddenly realize why.
It's like I'm looking at Belinda Carlisle Jr. (only without the musical ability). Awesome!
But then it's time to kick it into the stratosphere of ridiculosity, and that can only mean one thing: Mia and Rodeo's ode to kids, L.A., sandboxes, rainbows, flying... and possibly sword collecting, pepper growing and the magical healing properties of Grandma Rodeo's blood. Hey, we can dream.
"Grab our L.A. kids" -- with our L.A. Gear, perhaps? Or maybe our L.A. Looks. I love the expression Mia has after her half-hearted "Rock!" Bret is so confused by the kid stuff that he asks, immediately after the performance, what the deal was with the damn kids.
Okay, when Brandi Freakin' C. is making the blow-my-brains-out gesture during your explanation, you've crossed a big ol' line somewhere.
NO. No. I'm sorry, but I will not be recapping this show; I will not be watching this show; I will do my level best to avoid acknowledging its existence. Honestly: if you're so desperate to score some strange that you'll listen to an aspiring douchenozzle in a pair of goggles, just pony up the cash and see a prostitute. It's probably more dignified and respectful of women.
Let's get back to the far more dignified, respectful Rock of Love, shall we?
Sam and Brandi C. wrap up the proceedings with their song.
You know, it's really not bad. I don't get the whole "blood, lace and might" thing, but then, my last foray into songwriting involved "bile," "skanks" and "Botox," so there you go. (The dude listening to them is guest judge Richard Blade, who's apparently kind of a big deal in L.A. radio.)
I guess it's the power of my fondness for Sam, but the affection she seems to have for Brandi infects me a bit, and for one really, really weird moment, I find myself liking Brandi.
Just for that moment, girl, you are the light. Or it might just be your eyeshadow. Hard to tell.
The girls all go back to the stage for judging. Mags and Heather go under the microscope first, and we get this great moment of classic Heather when Blade asks who wrote the lyrics.
I sometimes wonder what it must be like to be that nakedly self-promoting (literally, in Heather's case). Madgalena corrects her, saying it was a collaborative effort.
I forgot what Bret said to this pair because (speaking of pairs) I'm kinda surprised that I'm getting more of a view of Lacey's boobs than Erin's. There's irony for you.
Blade complains that Jes and Brandi M. didn't need the guitar props when they were cute and energetic enough to sell the song by themselves. "It was a joke, Richard. Pull the stick out of your ass," Brandi tells the camera. That's my girl.
Bret ultimately decides to call the competition a tie, with Heather and Magdalena winning a date with him that night and Sam and Brandi C. getting a date the next day. As the prize was supposed to be two solo dates, everybody is kind of annoyed at this outcome.
Rodeo, however, is positively distraught. She seems to think that she's used her son in some way (somehow I don't think she'd think that if she'd won; I guess it's only bad to use your kids if you lose).
Rodeo, I don't think kids love you because of your hat or your love for rock and country music. They love you because children can often sense pure, unadulterated nuttiness.
J clearly isn't the only one who's growing weary of Rodeo's kid-centric ramblings. Brandi C. thinks she should have prepared for the separation better.
Okay, I can't rag on this because whenever J and I go out of town, by the first night, we're both noting how much we miss the cats. But you've got to understand: they're really interesting, socially active cats! Really.
Bret takes Magdalena and Heather to a Japanese restaurant. I've corrected this shot as much as I can; hopefully you can see the difference in outfits.
Magdalena is wearing a flattering black dress. Heather is wearing a belt-length skirt and a bustier. Lucky Bret, he gets the good girl and the bad girl. I meanwhile, get a major case of the skeeves.
At dinner, Mags mentions Heather's stripping job and how it might affect her views on men. (Magdalena is wearing some glitter eye shadow here, but it looks okay on her.)
Heather says stripping allowed her to understand men. Well, men who go to strip clubs, anyway, which of course includes Bret. (Heather is also wearing glitter eye shadow, but it doesn't look so good. I guess 10 years and diminishing career prospects really do make all the difference.) Heather also says that stripping helped her pay off her student loans and the only thing I take away from that is the utter dismay with which I greet the concept that Heather actually went to college. Did she major in tweezing or something?
Bret gives the girls something to remember the date by: two guitars that cannot be played by either recipient. I guess it's the thought that counts here.
Heather suggests something more permanent to remember the date by: a tattoo of Bret's name on the back of her neck. Thoughts of livestock husbandry instantly flood my mind. I can't imagine why.
Bret is actually touched by this and says it's a sign of commitment from Heather. Dude, don't reward this kind of thing. He tells her that they'll get that tattoo some other time, possibly recognizing that the good tattoo shops won't ink you when you're as obviously drunk as this crew is by now.
How drunk are they?
Drunk enough for even Magdalena do do a composite lip-lock. J and I physically recoil from the TV at the sight of this.
The threesome (shudder) returns home, but the party is just getting started.
Jes is as sick of seeing Heather's hooters as I am -- well, actually, she's probably much more sick of them, seeing as how she estimates this to be the 139th time she's seen them. I can't have seen them more than a dozen times.
Just as Heather is gyrating all up on Brandi C., Sam appears at the top of the stairs...
... and goes back to her room. She's not the only one unnerved by the sight, either.
For this and so many other reasons, I totally dig Brandi M.
Then, as if the three-way kiss in the limo wasn't bad enough, a fearsome foursome (Bret, Heather, Lacey and Brandi C.) takes the show into Bret's bed.
I hope they're fumigating this house after filming wraps.
The next day, Brandi C. wakes up in her own bed -- oh, but who's that next to her?
Either Bret stayed over or Magdalena got lonely. For Brandi's sake, I kinda hope it's the latter, although the way she refers to Bret as "[her] boyfriend" makes me fear the worst.
The repercussions of the previous night's weasel pile are felt as the non-skanky girls whisper about what might or might not have happened. Lacey sticks her head outside to -- well, to basically rub their faces in their lack of knowledge.
I almost didn't bother reading the words on the screen, so fascinated was I by Erin's face.
Hello?
Jes and Lacey have the greatest exchange on the topic. Jes: "But I don't want to be kissing him knowing that he's [bleep]ed your [bleep]!" Lacey: "(Shrug) Fair enough." With that she departs, leaving a clearly emotional Erin in her wake.
Sam is distressed to hear of Bret's casual poking of anything with ovaries that's not nailed down. Oh, Sam.
She starts crying about how she wants to go home and how it's pointless to begin a relationship when Bret's such a big ol' ho.
Erin is overcome with concern.
Bret's date with Sam and Brandi C. involves riding horses at a ranch somewhere. Brandi squeals randomly about how horses smell (?) and says "ohmigod" a lot.
Bret notes that Brandi is a "young soul." I think that's a nice way of saying "possibly functionally retarded." Brandi and Sam also get souvenir guitars. Brandi sniffs hers... possibly to see if it smells like a horse.
Sam decides she needs to get her unease over Bret's ho-ish ways off of her chest. Like that will have any impact whatsoever.
She and Bret talk about their broken homes and past miseries, and she says she's not sure she can trust him, but she feels a connection when they touch, and I'm waving my arms frantically at the screen, trying to prevent the inevitable...
Aaaaaagh, Sam, what are you thinking?! He bleeped someone's bleep just the night before!
Back at the house, it's time for elimination, and everybody is looking rough.
Bangs are your friend, my dear, misguided child.
Rodeo, didn't we discuss softer makeup just last week?
Erin's catatonic state has made her the apparent victim of a roving pack of Avon ladies.
Oh, good God.
Is anyone else hearing the "Pimp of the Year" pageant song from I'm Gonna Git You Sucka?
Bret begins the proceedings by telling Rodeo that he's eliminating her. Might as well rip the Band-Aid straight off.
He's trying to put a nice spin on it, but what I think he's really saying is, "Frankly, you scare me." He takes off his hat, tells her he had it specially made for her (so she is to him as he was to Tiffany?) and walks her to the door.
I'm afraid to ask this, but: what is she never going to let go?
Bret walks back downstairs sniffling, and several girls are impressed by what a gentleman he was. Really? I mean, company security will escort you out the door when you've been canned, but they don't usually get props for it. He calls the remaining girls, starting with Mia, until only three girls are left, but only two VIP passes. And which three girls are these? The ones he cavorted with the previous night.
"He'll probably cut the one with the most readily visible warts," I say. J looks at me as if he is reconsidering ever touching me again, and I cackle. Lacey gets the first pass, so it's down to two blondes, and the final pass goes to...
Heather. In a voiceover, she describes herself as "classy." Now, my previous declarations that calling yourself classy automatically makes you a liar aside, she is wearing a dress and hairstyle that made me think of Deputy Clementine Johnson's wedding... until I realized that Clemmie looked far classier than Heather.
And so it is Brandi C. who leaves us, with her young soul, her birthday implants, her scarred face, her preschool voice, and her abnormally-missed cat. (Is it just me, or does Bret look like he's copping one last feel there?)
Bret leads the congratulatory toast with bottles of water because his liver feels like it's been parboiled. I can't help but note that a true gentleman would provide his guests with champagne and drink water himself, rather than applying the "if I can't drink, nobody can" rule.
He ruminates on the debauchery of this episode and says that perhaps he needs to move beyond partying. Really? Ya think? Maybe now that you're 44 years old, with 2 kids, a string of failed relationships and dia-fucking-betes, you think it might be time to retire the fifth-year-senior lifestyle, hoss?
Or at least the eyeliner?
Next week, we hit the gridiron and grease the pigskin... or whatever is involved in mud football.
I think I can identify that butt as Heather's. I hate that I can do that.
Even if that shot isn't her, Heather definitely shows her ass when she writes Bret a note about "all the fake bitches in the house." Way to put that college education -- and that self-described class -- to work!
The remaining Brandi (also known as BiBi, for some reason) tells Bret that this isn't Heather's first reality show, and that she was hitting on Vanilla Ice on a previous season of The Surreal Life.
Oh, now, really. Surely this isn't the kind of person who would attempt to tap Vanilla Ice?
You know what next week's episode will most likely do?
See you there.
Just browsing the internet, you have a very, very interesting blog.
Posted by: Freddie Sirmans | August 10, 2007 at 12:04 AM
The first episode of The Pickup-up Artist has some awesome shots though! The looks on some of the girls faces are *priceless*. It's much better than Scott Baio Is 45...And Single! (that was sarcastic, as anything is better than that show).
Posted by: Anonymous | August 10, 2007 at 03:54 PM
I don't know how I didn't notice this before, but do you think they have a spray tan booth on location? Everyone (including Bret) looks freshly orange!
Posted by: Kim | August 10, 2007 at 04:39 PM
I can't share the Sam love. I think it's because she reminds me so much of Kim Stewart.
Posted by: esoterica | August 10, 2007 at 10:45 PM
The dark side of my bipolar disorder found me depressed and glued to the couch today and with not even enough ambition to change the channel from the Poser...er...the Pickup Artist. It had one good effect. It made me realize that I still have it in me to want to rip shit on idiots like this.
I'm going for "Death's Head In A Snood" for Heather. And I'm thinking that Lacey needs a stake through her heart, or lack thereof.
Posted by: cheesemeister | August 12, 2007 at 09:44 PM
Actually, Mystery isn't as bad as you might think. He's legendary in the seduction community and the guys on his program could use whatever help they can get.
Posted by: Harold | August 16, 2007 at 12:48 PM
OK OK, I've figured it out! I now realize why I love your blog so much. You write children's books for adults... It's the gleeful wriggling in my chair, the irrepressible grin on my face, the fact that you used all of "douchenozzle", "victim of a roving pack of Avon ladies" and "weasel pile" on the same page. WHEE! Don't let it end. Pause for the cause, sister, but never ever ever stop!
Posted by: SueBee | August 17, 2007 at 07:25 PM