Monday, March 31, 2008

This-N-That

Here are a few teensy, tiny tidbits to start your week:

First up, apparently it is possible that Heath Ledger might have fathered a love child back when he was 17, although the source of this information is his estranged uncle. This may turn out to be completely untrue, so stay tuned. I feel more and more sorry for his ex, Michelle Williams, though, I must say...



In other dead people non-news, crazy old blowsy broad Courtney Love is claiming that "con men" have ransacked the estate of Kurt Cobain. She left some kind of ranting, irate message at the New York Post shrieking that a couple of thieves stole Cobain's social security number and went on spending spree that might force his mother and sister to lose their homes. But don't worry, she says Scotland Yard are on the case. On the other hand, she might be insane.



And finally, check out this photo and see if you can figure out who it is:


(image via janet charlton's hollywood)

Give up? Why, it's Lara Flynn Boyle! I had no earthly idea who it was until Janet Charlton told me so! Look at those crazy cheek implants and trout lips! She's only 38!

OK, gotta start work on the epic "Rock of Love" recap. OMG. Can you believe Daisy had a "friendship" with CC Deville?

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Do You Take This Story With A Grain of Salt? I Do!



For those of you who care about these sorts of things, there is currently a battle raging amongst the tabloids about whether or not Brangelina got married this weekend in New Orleans. I could give a rat's ass, but Star is screaming "They Did It! Brad & Angelina Tie The Knot!" while every other magazine (OK, Us Weekly, People) say "ixnay on the edding-way."

I can tell you one certain thing--Brad Pitt was comingling with us hicks in sticks here in Austin, as he was filming a new movie at the Texas State Capitol on Friday afternoon. I know because of an eyewitness report from Friend of Felt Up Sharon C. I couldn't be bothered to get out of my pjs long enough to check it out, because while Brad Pitt is a superstar of the highest order he doesn't do much for your humble Felt Up blogette (now if it had been Javier Bardem, I'd have been swanning around the Capitol in a tiara and evening gown at 10am)--but I hear on the street that Brangelina and the all the kids are wandering freely in the streets of Austin, so stalkers take note!

Friday, March 28, 2008

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

Remember when Mickey Rourke was known for being sex on a stick, not someone who made you want to poke your eyes out with a stick? Does recollecting this time make me ancient, like something out of Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All?
"In my day, there used to be a young whippersnapper in the moving picture shows named Mickey Rourke. Boy howdy, how he used to get my pulse a 'racin'! He was a strong feller, but with a whispery voice that like to give me a strong case of the vapors!"
Here's what he looked like in Diner:



And here's what he looks like NOW:


(image via janet charlton's hollywood)

I feel a bit faint--somebody get a Smelling Sandwich!

Thursday, March 27, 2008

There Goes His Shot At "Rock Of Love 3"

Rikki Rocket, the drummer for Poison, was arrested in L.A. because there is a warrant out for him in Mississippi on a rape charge! The L.A. Daily News reports:

Rikki Rockett
The drummer for 80s glam band Poison was arrested on a rape warrant issued out of Mississippi as he arrived at LAX after getting off a flight from New Zealand, police said.

Rikki Rockett, 46, was arrested Monday at the airport and booked into the Los Angeles County Jail, according to Los Angeles police and the Los Angeles County Sheriff Department's Inmate Information Web site. He was held on a strong-arm rape warrant stemming from Neshoba County, Missisippi, and appears to have been released from L.A. County custody, the Sheriff's Web site shows. His status today could not be confirmed.

Details about the warrant were not immediately available. Messages left with state police in Mississippi went unanswered.

According to the online Web site Wikipedia, Rockett was born Richard Allan Ream in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania. He has worked as a hairdresser, lifeguard, dishwasher, Emergency Medical Technician and a suit salesman. He rose to prominence in the 1980s when he co-founded the band Poison with vocalist Bret Michaels.
Um, did anyone notice his real name is Dick Ream? How could he not be a rapist? (Allegedly!) Wow. I cannot wait for the details on this one. Developing!

His Pot Boileth Over



Sorry folks, it's another slow week in the gossip-sphere. Sigh! So in lieu of poring over photos of J. Lo's half-human/half-wampyre babies, how about we discuss that nutty nutball Andrew on "Top Chef," eh?

**SPOILERS AHEAD!**

**LUSCIOUS, PADMA-LIKE SPOILERS!**

This guy's insanity has been apparent since the very first episode, with all his eyeball-bulging, freakishly over-the-top intensity, and generel wackadoodle-ness. His facial ticks and constant leg shaking figiditiness remind me of Michael Biehn's character in The Abyss, the Navy SEAL whose deep-sea decompression sickness turns him into a homicidal maniac.

But last night Andrew really went around the bend! When his team lost the Block Party Challenge, he acted like it was a miscarriage of justice on a par with The Scottsboro Boys. Dude, your food kinda sucked, ok? DEAL WITH IT. But noooooooooooo. He had the audacity to tell the panel of judges that they would have to get security guards to drag him off the set and then he actually said, "This is my house." The judges--especially Tom Collichio--were like one giant human eyeroll. (Almost as bad was egomaniacal teammate/compulsive hat-wearer/professional douche Spike, who told the judges the team had been cooking for the lowbrow block party-goers and not the refined palates of the judges, which may be the most retarded excuse ever on this show. He and Andrew also kept insisting that their food was superior to the other teams', which was not only annoying but bad form. BAD FORM!)

I think Andrew is a human powder keg ready to explode on national tv. If he gets eliminated he may blow himself--and the entire cast, crew, and 50,000 Glad family of products placed on the show--to smithereens. He's like a terrifying combination of Travis Bickle, Captain Quieg, Peter "I'm Mad As Hell And I'm Not Going To Take It Anymore" Finch in Network, the Unabomber, Jack Nicholson in The Shining, and Marty Feldman. Plus he's a total Daywalker, man!



On the other hand, he does make some good TV.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Knock Me Over With A Heather!

Whassa goin' on, skanks? It's time again for your "Rock of Love" recap, and oh, what an exciting episode we had last night--finally! I'm not going to beat around the bush, let's just jump into the good stuff, shall we?



**SPOILERS AHEAD**

**BIG, GINORMOUS, SILICONE-ENHANCED**

**SPOILERS!**

Bret Michaels decides the best way to find out juicy details about the contestants in his "house of lies" is to have their ex-boyfriends come on the show and talk about their relationships! (I would like to pause here and tip my hat to the genius who came up with this scheme! Kudos, sir or madam! Kudos!)

First in the door is Destiney's ex-husband, a rather dapper dude in a cap named Adam. (Did we already know that she had been married?) As soon as he sees his ex-wife he starts doing the scene from Young Frankenstein where Gene Wilder is having a nightmare and shrieks, "Destiny! Destiny! No escaping, not for me! Destiny! Destiny!" OK, that might have been me, not him. Then in comes the ex of Jessica The Innocent; his name is Casey and he has a stupid hat on. Megan The Mega Bitch's ex comes sauntering in wearing what we find out later is a t-shirt promoting "Swill," his bar in Chicago. Her ex-boyfriend is a bitch, too! The next guy in the door is wearing a Hawaiian shirt and looks like a dad from the suburbs, so naturally he's there for Ambre The Soccer Mom, although it turns out that he's just a friend of hers, because none of her exes would agree to come and talk trash about her on national television in order to promote a band/business. (Which raises Ambre's stature in my book!)

They have saved the best, or worst, for last, because the final ex to walk in is Charles, the douchiest douche who ever douched! He dated Daisy, Our Lady of the Speckled Trout Lips, and he is beyond belief. They are in a very terrible goth-lite band called Seraphim Shock in Las Vegas, and if you look up "Vegas gothpuss douche" in the dictionary, you will see a drawing of Charles. The dude is all pumped up like Glenn Danzig's douchey younger brother who works at Hot Topic, and is wearing black eyeliner, a wife-beater undershirt, and a hat with a "White Trash" patch sewn on it; he also has the world's worst dyed black chin pubes and straightened starchy black hair. He makes Pete Wentz look like Jimi Hendrix. He makes Christian Siriano look like Dick Cheney. He can barely utter a syllable! He is a grotesque! He is mesmerizing! Poor Daisy is having a nervous breakdown.


El Douche and Daisy.

AND FINALLY IT HAPPENS! What we've been waiting for lo these many weeks! Finally, dear God in heaven blessed us with this miracle! Glory, glory hallelujah, in comes HEATHER!!! And oh, she is a sight to behold, resplendent in newly-attached extensions, a dress cut down to her ladyparts, and a more refined elder-stateswoman stripper demeanor. Huzzah! Her job is to hang with the skanks and get them dizrunk so that they spill their guts and then she can run and blab it all to Bret. Double huzzah! Oh, Heather, you are the wind between my legs!


HEATHER!

The dudes all go off to a lame cigar bar, where only Bret actually wants to smoke cigars. Ambre's neighbor from the cul-de-sac has only nice things to say about his fellow PTA member, and Jessica The Innocent's ex says that she is, indeed, sweet-n-innocent. Megan The Megabitch's ex tells Bret that Megan is good times and also sort of a bitch. And is kind of a user. And has been on other reality shows before. Bret is shocked--SHOCKED--to hear that Megan might not really be there for him!

Back at Skank Manor, everyone does shots and gets into the teeniest bikinis this side of a 2 Live Crew video. Jessica The Innocent decides she has to show Heather that she is a cool and sophisticated rocker who is definitely NOT innocent and is really a dirty, filthy whore rolling around the muck in the gutter! She will show her this by getting out of her mind blotto drunk. Heather and Megan and Jessica get in the hot tub and talk trash about Destiney, whom they think is too much of a rock groupie to be good for Bret. Then eagle-eyed Heather demands to know why Megan seems familiar and she is forced to admit that she was on "Beauty and the Geek." A-ha! You can almost see the wheels turning in Heather's awesome evil mind!

Heather questions Destiney about her one-woman music appreciation society, and she mentions that not only does she love Poison, but also Motley Crue, AC/DC and Great White. Is Destiney the best-preserved 40-year-old on the planet or did she travel here in a time machine from the 1987 senior prom or what? I think I just fell in love with Destiney a little bit.

Pretty soon Heather has the girls drunk as skunks and doing nude cartwheels across the lawn. I hope Big John got a cheap thrill, at least.

Back at the stupid cigar bar, Bret learns from Destiney's ex-husband that she loooves to par-tay with rock stars. Bret is concerned that she might be a bit of a groupie. Then Bret asks Daisy's ex-boyfriend Douchey McMassengill if he and Daisy are still doing it, and though Douchey says "no," Bret doesn't quite believe him.

Meanwhile, back at the House of Lies, Megan the Megabitch bitchily tells Heather that Jessica, her supposed bestest buddy, is too innocent for the likes of Bret, and so of course Jessica, in an effort to prove her wrong, downs more shots and then weeps. Also weeping is Daisy, who is having some sort of Douche-related meltdown. When she can no longer bear the weight on her shoulders (or on her lips) she goes to Heather to confess the humongous secret that is tearing her up inside: SHE STILL LIVES WITH EL DOUCHE! Dun-dun-dun! However, it's not quite as dramatic as everyone on this entire show thinks it is, because she says--and I do believe her--that they are no longer boinking and they are just good friends. Perhaps it rings true because while I can indeed imagine there's no countries, no religion, no possessions, and all the people living life in peace, I cannot imagine wanting to do it with that douchebag. Ever.

So this goes on for a while. Heather is all, "Oh, no you didn't." And Daisy is all "blubberty blub blah blaaaaaah I signed a lease blah sputter I was in a bad situation before baa bah blurb." It's all rather confusing, but the bottom line is she's in trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with D and that stands for Douche!

The dudes continue on their journey of discovery by heading to a Dave & Buster's in some mall. Oh, Bret Michaels. You are a 13 year-old-boy trapped under the wig of a grown man!

In an effort to dispel the rumor that she is a sweet innocent naif, Jessica has been pounding back drinks like a rugby team on spring break in Ireland. She begins to feel unwell, so someone makes the world's saddest ham sandwich and flops it around her face. This was the comedy high point of the show; as Friend of Felt Up Gilliam C. pointed out, the girls appeared to be using this hunk of bread and cheese as a "Smelling Sandwich" in lieu of salts. Alas, The Smelling Sandwich did not manage to rouse Jessica out of her drunken stupor, nor did blowing chunks into the trashcan. As many of us are aware (albeit through hearsay, of course, not personal exprerience, oh no!) the only cure for her condition is Time. And perhaps a Nurofen Plus or ten.


TIMBER! Jessica takes Heather down with her.

Of course it is at this precise moment that Bret comes home. Jessica flings herself on him and spews sweet nothings, and chunks, at him, saying "I don't want to be alone" and "I hate you." Bret rather tenderly tells her that he doesn't hate her, he loves her (I'll bet off-camera Heather was breathing FIRE) and she says she would never hurt him. Awww, that's kind of sweet! Extreme alcohol poisoning can be so romantic.

Heather and Bret go off to for their SALT II Treaty-esque discussions of the skanks. Heather thinks Jessica is too young for Bret, and Bret may possibly agree. He says she has a "young soul." Maybe he can get that ridiculous guru back to confirm this? Heather also thinks Megan the Mega Bitch may be using Bret to further her career of being a reality show mega bitch.

Elswhere in the Ho Hotel, Megan and her ex are discussing why he came on the show and she figures out that it was only so he could wear the stupid t-shirt for his stupid bar on VH1 and then she starts crying because she still loves this balding creep (I would say he's a douche, but in the presence of such greatness as Charles, such descriptions are practically meaningless). Soccer mom Ambre witnesses this little exchange and takes Megan under her maternal wing to get the scoop. In a moment of weakness, Megan spills the beans that she is still on an emotional roller coaster over a guy in a Swig t-shirt.

Heather and Bret continue to debate personality flaws. Heather rightly points out that Ambre seems like she's be more comfortable taking the kids to Little League practice than taking part in Bret's rock-n-roll lifestyle. On the other hand, Destiney is perhaps a bit too much into the rock thing and may be a groupie. Then Heather casually throws out that Daisy still lives with El Douche. So basically, Heather thinks the only one in the house right for Bret is Heather. And the whole world agrees.

Bret is reeling from the Daisy/Douche co-habitation news, so he takes the two of them outside to discuss this vital issue. Daisy tells him that they are best friends are definitely not doing it anymore. El Douche kind of grunts every now and then. When Bret asks him if he'd mind if Daisy was Bret's Rock of Love, he says "fire BAD!" and puffs out his chest.

Bret goes inside to consult the I-Ching on these earth-shattering developments in his fake love life. Ambre takes the opportunity to rat out Megan and her feelings for the ex-boyfriend. Bret sends for Megan, who leaps onto him so she can do her patented Bret-straddle. She denies Ambre's report and says that she "must be confused." Bret is massaging her tum-tum and seems to be losing focus on the issue at hand.

Poor Jessica wakes up to find that her reputation is no longer that of an innocent, but now is that of an innocent who pukes. Oh, well. She's determined to make it to the eliminations, though, which is more than can be said about that girl from the first episode--remember her, the one that passed out drunk and slept through the eliminations? Oh, how young and gay and fancy-free I felt way back then. Before the endless agonies of Kristy Joe made me a hardened old crone...

In case we weren't already impressed with the unusual amount of screen time given to Heather, she actually accompanies Bret to the eliminations! All hail Queen Heather! Oh, my god she looks so awesome. She's wearing this flowy zebra print dress that's short in the front and long in the back and there are cut-outs and a plunging neckline that makes the whole world her mammographer. Oh, God, Heather you rule!

Ambre, who notes that she didn't vomit, isn't still living with her boyfriend, and isn't a stripper, feels safe, and she is. Although I think not being a stripper is more of a hindrance than a help in this sitch, Ambre. Destiney is also safe. Daisy is safe, despite the fact that she desperately needs to put some Preparation H on those bags under her eyes and is also still living in Sin City with El Douche.

So the final two are Megan the Mega Bitch and Jessica, and Megan can't believe it! Jessica sorta can. But in the end it is Jessica who gets to stay and rock Bret's world, much to Megan's shock. She goes down to get her good-bye and just stands there, seemingly unable to move or speak. She stands there for a very long time. An uncomfortably long time. A bizarrely long time. I felt like she was not so much upset that she had lost a chance of fake love with Bret, but that she could not believe that someone as hot herself was actually going to have to find yet another reality show on which to sell what is left of her soul. She refuses to kiss Bret! That is considered bad form.


(crickets)

Then Bret tells the remaining girls that not only are they all flying of to Las Vegas but Heather is coming along! HUZZAH! The previews indicate that the whole show becomes like a demented drunken stripper version of a Judy Blume novel, with all the skanks ganging up on Daisy and hazing her until she wants to kill herself. I CANNOT WAIT.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

The only people more obsessed than me with Madonna's yucky vein syndrome are the British tabloids and The WOW Report, both of whom passed along this newest photo of Madge's disturbing claws:


(image via the uk daily mail)

Here's the full shot, so you can see the horror in context:



At first glance I thought she was clutching a scary wee dagger, but I think it's just a set of keys. That would have been kind of awesome, however...

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

This photo isn't so much frightening as it is flabbergasting:


(image via defamer.com)

Look at the expression on Soon-Yi's face! She probably thought the biggest trauma of her life would be marrying her adoptive father, but then she saw Donatella's sunburned-Janice-from-The-Muppets face and realized she was oh, so wrong...

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Every Rose Has Its Thorn, Just Like Every Eyebrow Must Be Closely Shorn

Hello, skanks! Whassa goin' on? Your humble Felt Up blogette is starting the long road to post-South By Southwest recovery. She should be feeling somewhat better some time in August. Also, she is reeling from last night's dramatic episode of "Rock of Love." Such sturm und drang! Such emotional turmoil! Such cheap, terrible clothing!

Let's get the party started, shall we?

**SPOILERS AHEAD!**

**AIN'T NOTHIN'**

**BUT A SPOILED THING**


Thespians!

We begin where so many great pieces of theater begin--in a home gym, where a bunch of sloots are working out. Kristy Joe thinks back on Bret's stated concerns--over and over and over again, ad nauseum--that she is not really "there for him," and decides she needs to take action. Jesus, this show sure has its own personal set of tired, worn-out cliches! You have be there for Bret, for the right reasons, by stepping up your game and getting a lot of face-time with Bret and really make a connection with him. AAAAH!

To combat Bret's perception that she is a loony tune freak-a-deak with no eyebrows who might be there for the dreaded wrong reasons, Kristy Joe decides to call her second husband and inform him that they shall be now be divorcing so that she can pursue a polyamorous televised sexual relationship with the lead singer of Poison. Apparently this is news to hubby numero dos, which means that she has been lying to everyone--even BRET!--about her current situation. Several times she had said that she was in the process of divorcing the guy, but no, she's telling him now. On the phone. In front of a TV audience.

Kristy Joe wants to tell Bret the great news, but he's busy driving around in his convertible with his wig a' blowin' in the breeze.

Back at Skank Manor, the ladies are informed that their challenge will be to produce two videos for Bret's "music." The creative director of the winning video gets to go on a solo date with Bret somewhere awful, and the other team members will get a group date somewhere awful. They listen to the songs; one is the terrible, terrible theme to the show and the other is a terrible, terrible slow jam. They divide into two teams--Jessica, Daisy, and Destiney on one and Ambre, Kristy Joe, and Megan the Mega Bitch on the other. Ambre literally gets down on her bruised and bloodied knees to beg her teammates to let her be creative director. She really is stepping up her game! Sadly, it is rather a pathetic display.

Destiney, for no good reason, is the creative director of team 2. You are my Density!

Ambre has a whole concept in mind for the slow jam video: Kristy Joe is going to be sad and depressed, Megan will be a total mega bitch, and someone will shove a flower at Kristy Joe and cheer her up. (Too bad they didn't have a divorce decree pushed in her face instead.) It is a mound of crap, but it like Citizen Kane compared to the video that Destiney and her crew come up with. I couldn't make heads or tails out of the "plot"; I think Jessica is supposed to be a virginal school girl and is lead into the wild side of life by a trout-lipped stripper. The main cinematic influence seemed to be the video for ZZ Top's "Legs."

Everything is going great until the editing process begins. Ambre's team has some trouble--their editor's computer freezes up and won't function. The way Ambre is behaving--pulling out her hair, making everyone pray over the computer--I thought they had barely finished editing any of it, but it turned out fine (if by fine you mean a travesty of video-making). The other team didn't have that level of bad luck, but their editor sure did. The poor guy looked remarkably stoic in the face of the screeching hyenas shouting at him about where to cut their tacky stripper video; on the other hand, he also looked like he wanted to kill them and then himself, perhaps by impaling everyone on a stripper pole.

Finally it was time for the grand viewing. Ambre's team's video was, of course, terrible--trite, cliched, wooden. The final scene of a red flower brightening Kristy Joe's mood (signaled by the film going from black and white to color!) made a mockery of every great video ever made; however, it was like the baby carriage scene in The Battleship Potemkin compared to the part in Destiney's video in which Daisy sucks Jesssica's index finger with her ginormous fake fish lips. In the end, Bret surprisingly chooses pathos over poontang and crowns Ambre's team the winners.

Which means that Kristy Joe gets yet another date (albeit with Megan the Mega Bitch along), and this is more than poor Daisy can bear. Later she sits in the kitchen, crying and carrying on and railing to a deaf God that it isn't fair! Kristy Joe walks in and walks back out without responding. Daisy throws a real zinger at he as she departs: "I hope you have fun on your date tomorrow!" I really thought she would add, "NOT!" but apparently she thought the tone of her voice would adequately convey the intended bitter, cruel irony. She then collapses into her hoodie.

Soon enough it's time for Ambre's solo date with Bret, and after all her hard work and blood, sweat, and tears, I'm sorry to report that this involves going into Bret's bedroom, sitting on pillows next to a hookah, and getting her chakras cleansed by an Indian guru. Well, I'm not that sorry. The guru has them all hold hands and he says that Ambre and Bret have known each other since the 12th century. Did they even have soccer back then? What about minivans? Bret asks Ambre how old she is, which is kind of unchivalrous if you ask me. She's not a day over 700 years old!


Chakra Kahn, Chakra Kahn, let me rock you Chakra Kahn.

In the mean time, Kristy Joe wants to talk to Bret for the 14, 000th time about her past and her feelings and her heart being on her sleeve and her restraining order. So she just comes banging on the door and barges in on Ambre's date. Bret decides to sic the guru on Kristy Joe! Heh. Serves her right. He asks Kristy Joe if she's ever seen a "sad mountain" or a "frustrated gluestick" or some crazy crap. Kristy Joe is nonplussed. Back in Bret's room, Ambre and Bret start making out, and Bret interviews that she is the best kisser in the house. Well, he should know! Also: Eww.

Kristy Joe gets her face time with Bret and tells him, like a complete moron, that she just told her second husband she wants a divorce. Now, Bret Michaels is many things--rocker, lover, wearer of doo-rags, fine wig connoisseur--but he's not an idiot. He immediately susses out that this information means Kristy Joe was lying through her missing eyebrows when she told him earlier that the divorce was already happening. However, he doesn't seem all that angry about this. Because, as we find out all too soon, HE IS MADLY, PASSIONATELY IN LURVE WITH KRISTY JOE.

Meanwhile, Daisy, Jessica, and Destiney sit on the staircase, fully aware that Kristy Joe is doing something unspeakable with Bret. Jessica loses it completely and wails to the heavens in a manner not unlike Meryl Streep in A Cry In The Night when a dingo took her baby.

The next day it is time for the three-way date with Megan the Mega Bitch and Kristy Joe. Unlike poor, sad Ambre, they are treated to a meal in a restaurant. Megan decides to help her digestion by straddling Bret and making out with him in front of Kristy Joe, who leaves. Eventually Bret disentangles himself from Megan's haunches and seeks out Kristy Joe, who is understandably sulky. They have a weird conversation--she says she doesn't like him, or something? I think? Then Megan the Mega Bitch barges in before we can figure out what is going on.


When in doubt, tonsil hockey!

Back at House of Hos, Kristy Joe comes back from her dream date and is confronted with a furious Ambre, who totally goes off on Kristy Joe about her being a loony tune nutty nutball. I don't know
what her fellow moms back on the soccer field will think when they get a load of all the f-bombs she dropped on Kristy Joe! At first Kristy Joe just stares back with her usual blank Kabuki mask, but eventually gets riled up and yells back. Blah blah blah stressed out blah Bret blah sick of it blah blah messing with her head blahbitty blah BLAH.

Elimination time. Ambre gets the first pass, and she is as pleased as 900 year old punch. Then Daisy is called upon to continue to rock his world, and she giddily accepts. Then it's Jessica and Destiney, who was pretty worried since she directed the losing video.

So it's down to Kristy Joe and Megan the Mega Bitch, who is in total shock that her dinner time lap ride didn't do her any favors. Bret calls Kristy Joe down, and here is where everything goes horribly, horribly awry. Bret tells her that he feels a connection and it's been a roller coaster ride and he cares about her and asks her if she will stay in the house and continue to rock his world. She replies that she has a lot of stuff to take care of back home. Megan is standing there, ignored and forgotten. Kristy Joe cries. Bret offers to help her take care of her problems at home (I don't know how he proposes to do that, exactly; perhaps he thought he could offer her a dainty doo rag to wipe her tears when things got rough in divorce court?). Kristy Joe decides to leave so she can go home and handle her affairs. Bret WALKS HER OUT the door, leaving Megan there like a lump. An angry, bitchy lump. Bret clearly LOVES LOVES LOVES this eyebrowless psycho! He is visibly upset! Whassa going on, Bret? This ain't a good time! After she goes he throws her backstage pass on the ground! It lies there, alone. A backstage pass of LIES AND SADNESS.

He goes back in and dejectedly tells Megan she gets to stay by default. Then he leaves them all so he can BE ALONE. No Bret Brew! Just Bret brood! This is serious, dudes.

Afterwards I asked Friend of Felt Up and "Rock of Love" go-to guy David B. if Bret was diminished in his eyes after this display, and he replied that Bret wasn't exactly up on a pedastal to him in the first place, but I think I speak for all viewers when I say we were left dazed and disturbed after seeing Bret Michaels fall so deeply in love with a contestant on his reality show. I feel like I just saw Hugh Hefner marry an age-appropriate brunette on "The Girls Next Door." THESE ARE ABOMINATIONS AGAINST NATURE!



The good news is that next week we not only get the much-anticipated return of Heather, but also the producers have the genius idea of bringing the ladies' ex-boyfriends on the show! Including the douchebag who plays in Daisy's ungodly bad goth band, Seraphim Shock!
I just hope Bret is back on form. This will not stand. THIS AGRESSION WILL NOT STAND!

Thursday, March 13, 2008

The Starvation, Horse Pill, and IV Diet!


dextroamphetamine 10mg (14.5 tabs); adderall xr 20mg (19.0 capsules) image via flikr

I looove this kind of thing! The UK Daily Mail has an article today all about the crazy ass things celebs do to be skinny--despite telling the world their thinness is due to "great genes," yoga, walking the dog, or "chasing after" their toddler. (That crap makes me so mad! ) Most of it I'd heard before--cocaine, Adderall, fasting, horse pills, chain-smoking, coffee addiction, workout bulimia--but there are some new ones in there, too, such as:

*only eating a couple of boiled eggs a day OR only eating peanuts and Diet Coke

*consuming only master-cleanse and laxative tea

*checking into the hospital to be fed by IV

Marcia Cross says that her life is a "living hell" and that she is basically being "paid not to eat"! One celeb spent her birthday at the gym! Katherine Heigl would rather die of lung cancer than be fat!

Sometimes I'm really glad I'm not famous.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

(Second) Frightening Celeb Photo Of The Day

The WOW Report has a tidbit about Paris Hilton's ginormous size 11 feet, and it includes this horrifying close-up:




ACK! Those are some truly hideous clodhoppers! (Not to mention her bony old lady knees.) What is up with these celebs and their gross, disgusting veiny appendages?

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

Hey, look everyone! They inducted Madonna into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (don't get me started on this particular outrage to my sensibilities) and since she couldn't make it, they let her send her Madam Tussaud's wax effigy instead:




Oh, sorry, that's not a wax figure, it appears to be some sort of robot.

No, hold on. It's a Madonna drag impersonator!

No? Well. Huh! I think that might actually be Madonna herself! Perhaps she's been embalmed?

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

Eewww. I already disliked Patricia Heaton intensely (she is a rabid Republican and not very pleasant), and now she is freaking me out. Check out these photos and see if you can see what is missing from them:


(images via defamer.com)

Yes, Ms. Heaton HAS NO BELLY BUTTON. She had a tummy tuck and claims her "herniated belly button" necessitated the removal of said body part. YUCK. You can read about her icky surgery at The Huffington Post, if you dare.

The High Price of Hos



Wondering what Heidi Fleiss has to say about NY Governor Eliot Spitzer's prostitute scandal? Well, wonder no more! She gave her take on the sordid affair to Radar magazine:
Just how in the hell would a high-profile, ho-bustin' politician like Eliot Spitzer ever expect to get away with his pay-for-play D.C. side piece?

"It's so easy not to not get caught," reformed Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss tells Radar, adding that she provided service to many a well known politician her day. "I saw many famous people—more famous than Eliot Spitzer—and you know what, you pay people right, you treat them right, you don't have a problem." The devil, she says, was in Spitzer's particular freak, which left the gals who are alleged to have serviced him describing the governor as "difficult," with demands that involved "things that, like, you might not think were safe."

"I'm sure he wanted anal sex without condoms," Fleiss says, speculating but strangely confident.

It was Spitzer's ethical crusade and no-ho posturing that did him in, too, Fleiss says. In 2004 Spitzer pontificated about the breakup of a Staten Island ho ring, calling it a "sophisticated and lucrative operation with a multi-tiered management structure," then adding, "It was, however, nothing more than a prostitution ring."

"I think think he's an arrogant prick and he thinks he's above the law; no one likes a hypocrite," Fleiss tells Radar. (In his defense, the morning Spitzer found out the jig was up, the New York Times reports, he canceled an appearance with a family planning organization and a private powwow with Cardinal Egan—a confession?) "He could have gone to the Bunny Ranch and never would have had his cover blown. But this is an arrogant prick," Fleiss says. "Welcome to reality."

I agree with Ms. Fleiss, all the way--from the anal-sex-with-no-condom thing (I'm not sure why, but it just sounds so right!) to Gov. Spitzer being an arrogrant prick. But as this article in today's NY Times points out, apparently arrogant prickdom is part of the DNA of politicians; they tend to have certain personality feautures--risk-taking, a sense of entitlement, huge egos--that leads to this sort of tacky illicit behavior. If you're still curious about ole Client 9 and his "comings"-and-goings (ba dum dum! I'm here all week!), you can take a look-see at the FBI affidavit over on The Smoking Gun. It is pretty fascinating reading, especially, to me at least, when you see the insane amount of trouble the governor went to in order to get a hooker from NY to DC for 4 hours in the sack.

Confusing Celeb Photo of the Day

This is just odd. Apparently there are rumors floating around that Gene Simmons wears a wig and is really bald, and now this photo surface:


(image via s?omg?wtf?)

First of all, even if that is some kind of bald wig, look how much better he looks! It is startling how improved he is without that terrible hair. Which brings me to the other question I have: If he is indeed, a cueball, with all his money, and of all the wigs available, why on earth would he choose this:



It just doesn't make any sense at all. What is going on?

Sunday, March 09, 2008

SNL Spoofs Felt Up's Favorite Shows

I know what everyone's thinking--TGTWSIO! Am I right? No? Confused, you say? I guess I'm just more "down" with the young people and their crazy acronyms. It means THANK GOD THE WRITERS' STRIKE IS OVER! Jeez.

I really, really can't wait for the return of "30 Rock," but at least mostly-crappy "Saturday Night Live" is back on. Last week there was a pretty good spoof of "Rock of Love," although it is somewhat confusing because it includes Amy Poehler's recurring egomaniacal-one-legged-farter character named Amber--which has nothing to do with real-life "Rock of Love" contestant Ambre, the soccer mom. Tina Fey's Daisy, is, however, quite amusing. Check it out:



And from the most recent show, here's Amy Poehler doing a spot-on Christian Siriano from "Project Runway":


(Thanks to Friend of Felt Up Michele S. for the scoop, as I hardly ever watch "Saturday Night Live "anymore.)

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Gunn Control



The plot thickens! Now Victorya from "Project Runway" has responded to Tim Gunn's allegations that she is a crabby sourpuss. Over at Blogging Project Runway, Victorya has lots to say, although none of it responds directly to his charges that she demanded he count out all the Mood money and was acting quite weirdly about Jack leaving due to his illness. Mainly she attacks Tim's qualifications and comes off as--you guessed it!--a crabby sourpuss:
It's no secret that it's been extremely hard for me to take any of Tim's advice to heart, chiefly because I don't think he is qualified to give it. Tim was, for many years, the dean of Parsons,which is a fancy word for administrator. Does that automatically give him the credentials to assume the role of an arbiter of fashion? I can see how he might be capable of teaching say, fashion history, but design?

I do not mean to assert that he's completely unqualified. He seems to be exploring now what he is good at doing. I think he's very suited to educating women on how they should dress based on body proportions--because it's an almost formulaic approach. This dress will flatter your body because of x, y, and z. But again, that doesn't speak to design.

I am the type of person who, professionally, would prefer to work with someone who may not be the most likable, but really knows their stuff. I'm sure everyone has had a horror story about having to work with someone who is extremely nice, but completely incompetent. It's the absolute worst!
I was rather surprised that the comments on this post were not more negative about Victorya; apparently quite a few people are put off by Tim "going public" with his feelings about her. Personally, I think he should go off on contestants in the press more, not less!

Thoughts?

Friday, March 07, 2008

Tim Gunn Dishes Dirt On Crabby Sourpuss Victorya!



Here's some awesome "Project Runway" gossip, courtesy of this interview in the Chicago Tribune with America's sweetheart, Tim Gunn, concerning irritable and irritating killjoy Victorya:
“She was a sourpuss, a crabby apple as I keep saying, throughout almost all the show, other than Days 1, 2 and 3. She became this sour pill. Rich Bye, one of the executive producers, and I had two off camera interventions with her. I said to her, ‘You know what makes me beside myself is the fact that there are thousands of designers who would love to be in your place. What’s the matter with you?’

“She said, ‘I never dreamed the experience of being on the show would be like this.’ We said, ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I never dreamed we’d only have a day for challenges, that we wouldn’t have any breaks.’ ‘But you said you saw the show.’ She said, ‘I assumed it was cheated.’ I said, ‘Then you only have your own delusions to blame.’ She was really angry and bitter.

“On one occasion – they edited this out, I knew they would – we were at Mood [Fabrics], and I’m handing out money. They each have $250 dollars. She collects the envelopes from all the designers and hands them back to me. She said, ‘I want you to count it.’ I just stared at her. ‘You want me to do what?’

“She wanted me to count the money in each envelope. I looked to the producer on site with us, and I said, ‘I’m not doing this, am I?’ and he said, ‘The rules say that if a designer asks for the money to be counted, we have to count it.’ I said, ‘Fine,’ and asked why she wanted it counted. And she had pulled out this sheaf of papers – she had the rules with her – and she said, ‘I don’t believe that we all have the same amount of money.’ Why would we do that? If someone didn’t have the right amount, wouldn’t they come to me? So I counted the money.

“But that’s what it was like dealing with her. She actually said about Jack’s departure that we had engineered him leaving because he wasn’t a pretty face anymore. I just said to her, ‘I fundamentally don’t understand why you can’t understand that he is seriously ill. Furthermore, it’s a MRSA [infection]. We are all at risk.’ But she said we were forcing him out and that shouldn’t happen and we should have a hearing or something.”

MR: That explains what the hostility was about in the reunion special. I think I get that now.

TG: “I still don’t understand [what was going on with her]. She was at the finale party last night. I said to myself, ‘What are you doing here? Why are you here, you’ve disassociated yourself from the show, supposedly, but you’re here?’

“I will say this too, as sour as she is, she is extremely talented.”

Wow. What a weirdo Victorya sounds like! When Tim Gunn hates your guts, you must be a true beyotch. Oh, how I love it when Mr. Gunn dishes! He is a delight and a national treasure.

Sixxual Healing



Sigh. My favorite inter-reality show couple, Kat Von D. of "L.A. Ink" and Orbi Orbison of "The Rock Life," have apparently broken up and now she has moved onto as-yet-reality-show-free Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue. According to Dlisted:
Kat Von D has confirmed she's officially bumping nasties with Nikki Sixx. Kat posted this picture on her MySpace with the caption "Never though I'd fall in love like THIS. He OWNS my heart."

The lady certainly likes the rockers. Espeially older rockers with dubious talents. Although I did think the Greg Allman-esque Orbi seemed sweeter and less of an egomaniacal jerkwad than Nikki "I Only Talk About Myself In The Third Person" Sixx. Oh, well.

Do I smell a new VH1 show in the works? How about "Sixx Education"? Or "Sixxual Deviancy"? Or dare I say it--"Rock Of Love 3"? IT. COULD. WORK!

Thursday, March 06, 2008

Reality Shows For Everyone!



Although perhaps not quite as exciting as the prospect of "Posh Spice Makes Over Fat American Schlubs" on Fox, VH1 has a few new reality shows in the works, according to tvweek.com, including one starring Margaret Cho:
VH1 is gearing up more celebrity-driven shows, featuring comedienne Margaret Cho, rap impresario Luther Campbell and Hulk Hogan’s daughter, Brooke.

The network’s “celeb-reality” programming strategy has pushed the network into the top ranks among cable networks during the first quarter, and VH1 is counting in the new shows to continue its momentum.

“The Cho Show” follows the former “All American Girl” star and her eccentric entourage and family. VH1 has ordered seven half-hour episodes from Crossroads Television.

“Luke’s Parental Advisory” features Mr. Campbell, former leader of the raunchy rap group 2 Live Crew, who is now a suburban father, a fiancĂ©e and CEO of an adult entertainment business. VH1 has ordered eight 30-minute episodes from Pink Sneakers Productions.

“Brooke Hogan Knows Best” follows four years of “Hogan Knows Best,” as the wrestling star’s daughter begins life on her own in Miami. VH1 has ordered 10 30-minute episodes from Pink Sneakers.
I may actually be most delighted by Luther Campbell's show--although why do these series have to follow in the steps of similar programs (ie, "Run's House," "Snoop Dogg's Father Hood," "The Osbournes,"etc)? Can't reality producers come up with fresh ideas?

Happily, the prospect of seeing Margaret Cho's mother on a tv show will give me a reason to live.

Brooke Hogan, not so much.

PS
As the above photo shows, somewhere along the line Margaret Cho lost a crapload of weight and is now almost unrecognizable without her trademark chubby cheeks. I thought she had a whole monologue about how no matter how thin she got, she would never be able to lose those "typically Korean" cheeks? I don't know how she managed it, but it makes me sad...

Posh Spicing Up Fox?


(photo via wireimage)

Whoo-hoo! Hot on the heels of her far-too-brief appearance as a guest judge on last night's "Project Runway" finale, Posh Spice may be getting her own fashion-related tv series! Marie Claire (via Jezebel) has this report:
Victoria Beckham has been approached by US TV network Fox to front her own fashion reality TV series.

To be titled Fashion Nightmares, the show would mirror the format of Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, which has proved a huge hit in America.

Posh would travel around America, finding stylistically-challenged individuals, and giving them a fashion make-over. A source reveals, 'They want her to visit some boutiques and beauty pageants in real backwater towns and to try to whip them into chic shape.'
OK. My gut reaction is: Awesome. But I do have to say I get a wee bit tired of the whole foreigner-comes-to-make-fun-of-small-town-America thing. It's weird, I get all patriotic and crap about this stuff. I can make fun of the U.S., but I resent it when Euros come over here and do it. Besides, it's really just too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. And the make-over show has been DONE TO DEATH. But fear not. Not only will I totally watch this, I will do my damnedest to be one of the sad podunk hicks who gets made over! POOOOOSSSSSH!

Wednesday, March 05, 2008

David Sedaris Delivers A Pizza

Funny:



(thanks defamer.com!)

Kimora Demands More-a



Now here's the kind of non-news story that fills me with delight! According to Page Six, Kimora Lee Simmons has it written into her contracts (for personal appearances, I presume, since she has no immediately apparent talents beyond fabulosity) that underlings must fill her glass with champagne whenever her bubbly gets down to one inch in depth. And when she's drinking water, only Fiji water is acceptable. AWESOME.

I would very much like a contract rider like that. Whenever I'm sitting around Felt Up HQ in my robe and fuzzy slippers, covered in Corgi hair, holding forth on the important issues of the day, and my glass of champers hits that critically low level, I want to snap my fingers and get some service, pronto, from silent lackeys carrying bottles of Veuve Cliquot.

It could happen, right?

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

AAAAAAAAAH! Check out Keith Richards' new ad for Louis Vuitton--if you dare:



He looks like something from Beetlejuice. And not in a good way.

Swayze Ailing Update

The New York Post has confirmed the National Enquirer's sad story that Patrick Swayze has may have only a few weeks to live, as he is suffering from pancreatic cancer. What a total bummer...

Swayze Ailing?



Well, this is depressing, morbid, and possibly untrue, but the National Enquirer is screaming at the top of its lungs that Patrick Swayze HAS FIVE WEEKS TO LIVE:
In a shocking world exclusive, The NATIONAL ENQUIRER has uncovered the devastating news that the beloved Hollywood actor and dancer was diagnosed in late January with pancreatic cancer that has spread to other organs.

Full details are in the print edition of the NATIONAL ENQUIRER that goes on sale tomorrow.

For the past month, Patrick, 55, has been traveling to Stanford University's prestigious cancer center in Palo Alto for radical chemotherapy, but his doctors are no longer optimistic that the treatments will be successful.

Patrick and his wife Lisa Niemi — who both have pilot's licenses — have been flying their private Beechcraft plane into Palo Alto's airport, minutes away from the Stanford Cancer Center, where the actor has received outpatient treatment.

He received three doses of chemotherapy and the tumor shrank, but less than his doctors had hoped for — and Patrick was told he should prepare for the end.

"He was told he could have two more treatments, but his cancer was not responding. In short - they held out little hope for a cure," said an insider.

The man who danced into the hearts of audiences worldwide in the 1980s in Dirty Dancing and then broke them in the poignant love story Ghost in the early '90s has lost more than 20 pounds in the past few weeks and is restricted to a liquid diet because he has trouble keeping down solid food, added the insider.

"It's time to start praying for a miracle."
Now, I know that many people don't believe a single word that is printed in the Enquirer, but I've actually always heard that it's a pretty acccurate tabloid, compared to some of the others. So we'll see. Obviously in this case, I hope they are wrong. Let's all root for the Swayze!

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day

Here's a little twist on the usual Frightening Celeb Photo of the Day schtick: This time, try to guess the identity of the celeb! Here's your (cropped) picture, via the UK Daily Mail:



Hmmm....disturbingly veiny arms, bulging biceps...could be Madonna, but the hair's all wrong.

Are you stumped? Too terrified to keep looking?

Well, too bad. Let's take a look-see at the full photo:





Yes, it's Sarah Jessica Parker! Once again, I'd like to point out that total lack of body fat can be quite scary, not to mention aging (I'm talking to you, Courteney Cox!), although I do think SJP's face looks ok in this photo.

As a special bonus, I'm going to throw in one yucky Madonna arm picture, just 'cause that's how I roll:



Eeek! How'd you like to meet those arms in a dark alley, eh?

Monday, March 03, 2008

Spinal Tapping

Apologies to Friend of Felt Up David B., who was out of town for the last episode of "Rock of Love" and missed the viewing party, but just as every rose has its thorn, I'm afraid that every blog has its spoilers. Avert your eyes, David B.! At least until next week! (Also, in case you were worried, no one wore your special "Rock of Love"-viewing headband. It remains sacrosanct.)



**LIKE I SAID**

**SPOILERS AHEAD!**

**BIG, FAKE, SILICONE-ENHANCED SPOILERS!**

The show begins in the early hours o' the morn, ie, noon, when Bret Michaels is communing with his wig by the pool, only to be interrupted by Inna, who is concerned that their "connection" is waning. Bret acknowledges that their connection started off strong and now is dying. When did this show become set at a Girl Scout summer camp out? (Oh, fond memories of s'mores and slam books at Camp Cookie. But I digress.) Why all this endless discussion of connections and feelings and "being there" for Bret? SIGH!

The challenge this week is for the contestants to put on an old school USO show for "the troops," which the girls and most of the television audience probably assume meant current Iraq/Afghanistan military personnel, but in fact refers to ancient old men who must have served in WW II or possibly Korea, and their wives. In order to get their "talent" in tip-top form, Bret has brought in some pros, Misses Joan Arlene and Shirley Claire, who have been entertaining the troops for 50 years and look amazing in French cut leotards. Leg up!

Megan the Mega Bitch and Jessica team up to do a hula-hoop number while reciting the Preamble to the Constitution. A more perfect union, indeed. Inna and Destiney are going to "dance." I think you know the kind of dancing I mean. Ambre the soccer mom and possibly psychotic/definitely eye-brow challenged Kristy Joe pair up to tappa tappa tappa together, badly. And the piece de resistance: Daisy, Our Lady of Perpetual Trout Lipness, is going to sing the national anthem. All I can say is: WOW.

Inna and Destiney try to practice in front of Joan Arlene, and she is understandably critical of their complete lack of professionalism, coordination, or talent. Joan hasn't seen this big a bomb since Dresden. Inna loses it and starts yelling at the old lady. Uh oh. This does not bode well for Inna's connection problems with Bret! Dun dun dun.

The show begins and the audience in the USO hall is, as I mentioned, completely filled with men who look like Blue from Old School and his wife, if he'd had one. They're all in their uniforms and though I think almost all men enjoy gratuitous boobie viewing, it still seems disrespectful and something of a travesty that these people who gave so much for their country are going to be subjected to the likes of these.

Ah five, six, seven, eight! Kristy Joe and Ambre are first, and although Ambre is okay, Kristy Joe comes gallumphing out with the grace and majesty of a drunk bison performing the hokey-pokey. At least they manage to keep the audience in the dark as to their gynocological situations, which is more than I can say for some of the other ladies.

Then Jessica and Megan the Mega Bitch come out to do their Hula Hoops For the Troops routine. Apparently Megan has never before encountered the Preamble to the Constitution, or the word "posterity," in her entire life. She makes Jessica look like Madame Curie. They decide to spice it up a bit by removing much of their clothing until they are down to their teensy red, white, and blue bikinis. But again, their act is comparatively classy, and no laws are broken (although even I--bleeding heart that I am--cringed at the sight of the two using the American flag to slap each other on the ass; isn't that desecrating Old Glory in front of the vets?). They are so hilariously bad that everyone in the audience has tears of laughter flowing down their faces.

Destiney and Inna, knowing full well that they are terrible at dancing, decide to take their clothes, off, too, but in a much more distressing way. There's a lot of bending over, ass-slapping, and general whorishness all around. Everyone is fairly aghast, even Bret, although I don't know what he thought he was doing, bringing this group of sloots to the USO and parading their "talents" in front of ancient veterans and their wives. Did he think the contestants would rise above their limitations? Does he expect miracles? Would he put deaf people up there to sing the National Anthem without an intepreter?

Speaking of which, the final act is Daisy, Patron Saint of Restylane, and her rendition of our nation's signature song. I'm not sure how this is possible, but even though she has the words in front of her, she can't remember the lyrics or anything else about the anthem. At all. The audience dutifully stands up and tries valiantly to sing along, but they are singing through tears--of pain or laughter, it's hard to tell. She massacres that song. Those vets would have had much better luck with Ms. Roseanne Barr, and you know how that turned out.

In the end the audience chooses the winning team via their applause, and unsurprisingly they pick Jessica and Megan the Mega Bitch's Hoops for the Troops. They win a terrible dream date with Bret!

Back at the Ho Motel, Bret and the ladies sit down for some dinner, and right away Bret wants to stir up trouble by forcing them to tell him who they think is there for the "right reasons" and who isn't. No one wants to say anything about anyone else, not even Megan the Mega Bitch, but surprisingly enough, Ambre the Minivan Princess decides that she has to call out Kristy Joe for being two kinds of person--real, and not real. Or something. Basically she talks--with tears running down her face--about Kristy Joe (who is Ambre's roommate, as well as her tap dancin' team mate) being two-faced and wanting to go home and having two ex-husbands and/or one current husband, and the usual blah blah blah about Kristy Joe.

Kristy Joe says, in a flat, monotone zombie voice, that no one's opinion of her matters but Bret's. Suddenly Destiney is enraged and screaming her head off at Kristy Joe, something about not showing her emotions. Or something. Sometimes I have trouble understanding these people, as my Skank-to-English is a little rusty. They both jump up and yell at each other for some time, and then eventually calm down. Bret gets all pissy and demands to know, yet again, if Kristy Joe is there for him or not and leaves the table in a total huff. It is odd, since he started the whole argument in the first place by forcing each girl to talk trash about the others.

Kristy Joe starts packing her bags to leave, until Bret comes in and stops her. More blah blah blah "are you for real? are you here for ME?" blabberty blab blab with Kristy Joe that frankly is wearing thin. They have this same exact conversation every single week! Meanwhile, Ambre is in a shame spiral, worrying herself to death that Bret will be mad at her for being a rat-faced little-bootied tattle-tale, even though he started all this crap himself.

Then Megan the Mega Bitch and Jessica and Bret go off on their horrible date at...horrible Ed Hardy's! I mean, I enjoy tattoos as much as the next person, but that crap is so played out! Once Tori Spelling gets an Ed Hardy diaper bag, it is ALL OVER. Anyway, the big treat for the two gals is to pick out t-shirts and get them "custom coutured" by some dude who works at the shop. His version of "custom couture" is slicing up the tee shirts with a pair of scissors until they look like those '80s shirts from the beach that had strips hanging off the bottom with beads and crap dangling. Somewhere Coco Chanel is spinning in her grave at this outrageous affront to the couture tradition. Jessica is rather sweetly enthralled that a man is buying her gifts (if by "buy" she means "have donated for a promotional consideration by a corporate sponsor"), and Megan the Mega Bitch bitchily bitches that Jessica is "pathetic" for never having whored herself out before for a few trinkets.

At dinner (in an actual restaurant! not in Ed Hardy's sweat shop!), Megan the Mega Bitch bitchily brings up Inna's fight with Joan, the USO lady, and this upsets Bret no end, who laments that lost connection with Inna again and gets his gander up over Inna being "disrespectful" to his girl Joan. Dun dun dun dun dun!

Back at the Skankton Inn, Ambre decides to make amends with Kristy Joe, since they have to room together, but Kristy Joe is all, "whatevs." Oh, well.

Elimination time. Bret says right off the bat that he doesn't want drama or "mediocracy" in his life. OH NO HE DIDN'T! Did no one affiliated with this show take him aside after last season's malapropism problems? Specifically with his repeated use of "mediocracy"? How could he not know by now that there is no such word? I'm truly embarrassed for him. Oh, god!

Ambre, despite her worries, gets the first pass. She is elated and plans on celebrating by taking the kids to Disneyland in her Dodge Caravan. Destiney, Jessica, Megan the Mega Bitch, and carpy harpy Daisy all get passes, which means Kristy Joe and Inna are the final two.

And no surprise here...Inna goes home. What with losing that fabled "connection" and not getting along with the old lady in the leotard, she was doomed. So Kristy Joe is in, much to the chagrin of every single other woman in that house, especially Ambre and Destiney. Like Kristy Joe without her eyebrows painted on, I predict this is going to get UGLY.

PS
Where the hell is Heather?

Daisy Chain

Don't worry, your "Rock of Love" recap is coming soon, but here's a lil' somethin' somethin' to help get you in the mood--a mildly disgusting composite photo of Daisy, Our Lady of The Trout Lips, who is a) the niece of boxer Oscar de la Hoya, and b) quite disturbing-looking. From TMZ:



Classy! She claims that white stuff is "flour." Yes, sweetie, and those are your real "lips." And "labia."

Here are a couple more pix from Daisy's MySpace profile; in this first one, she is almost unrecognizable in her god-given lips and much less of her usually trowelled-on make up (am I crazy or does she kind of resemble a Risky Business-era Rebecca De Mornay?):



And here we have one of Miss Daisy the way most of us know her best, in all her post-operative mega be-trout-lipped glory:



For some reason, I'm endlessly fascinated with this trainwreck. Her freakiness lifts me up when I feel blue, like a two-headed puppy or an adorable lobster-clawed baby.

Ryder? I Hardly Know Her!



Winona Ryder might possibly be engaged to Rilo Kiley guitarist and former child actor Blake Sennett, who used to to date Rilo Kiley singer Jenny Lewis.

Whatever happened to Winona Ryder's career? She used to be as A-list as they come and now she's reduced to crappy Adam Sandler movies. Was it the shoplifting thing? It seems like that's the only reasonable explanation for her spectacular career freefall, but even though it made her look like a loony tune, a little theft doesn't seem like that big a deal in this day and age, you know? Maybe people just got tired of her. I always thought she was one of those people who was far more beautiful in photos; as gorgeous as she is, her looks deteriorated rapidly with every California syllable she spoke. (Especially when she tried to do an English accent, as in Bram Stoker's Dracula. Heinous!)

Anyway, mazel tov, you crazy kids!

UPDATE: Reality bites--Winona's reps tell Us Weekly that she and Blake Sennett are not, in fact, engaged.