Tuesday, May 05, 2009
When Show and Tell Goes Wrong
(all images via VH1)
Well, after the gangbustin' premiere, "Daisy of Love" was bound to drop off a bit in excitement. I just hope that the elimination of The Sunset Striplets was not the death knell for fun and good times on this show!
The challenge this week is for each contestant to make some sort of "show and tell" presentation to Daisy (who appears to be wearing leg warmers on top of leg warmers on top of go-go boots) about why he is the guy for her. I think. It was kind of unclear, especially when muscle-bound mook Flex grabbed a blow-up male sex doll and sprayed red paint all over it so it looked like a muderered sex doll and said that it "represented" him. Okaaaaaaaay, dude. Calm down.
The winner(s) get a romantic group dream date with Daisy!
Weasel redeems himself (after passing out drunk last week) in this challenge by presenting Daisy with a gift of a daisy necklace and then showing some photos of him doing crazy BMX stunts and then lying in a hospital bed with a crazy broken back after a BMX accident. Daisy seems touched by the necklace and likes seeing Weasel acting un-Weasely.
Fox, previously way up there on Daisy's love-o-meter, plunges into the abyss after bringing up some sort of sex toy that we are never able to see, due to VH1's coy toy cover-up. But whatever it is, Daisy is pretty insulted/grossed-out by it, and we are too, on her behalf. Poor taste, sir, is not the way to win Daisy's heart. Now, good day. I said good day!
Professor tries to do a classroom-themed "lesson of love" presentation, but only confuses Daisy.
London, of the bad eyeliner and man-thongs, is another Daisy fave despite having passed out in the hallway on the last episode. He attempts to write a song for her but is thwarted by being "too hungover." Seriously, that's his presentation. At least he's honest!
Nutty ole Flex brings up his sex doll (now emblazoned with a red spray-painted heart) and tells Daisy "this is me." To which Daisy and the universe replies, "Huh?"
12 Pack must have been a drama nerd at some point in his life, because he brings up a bunch of dead roses and throws them in the trash and announces, "THIS IS MY PAST." Then he tears out a page of his unicorn-emblazoned, tear-streaked diary and sets fire to it with a symbolic match of freedom. Then he smokes a clove cigarette, puts his long overcoat on, pumps his fist in the air defiantly and finally bursts into tears. What is going on with these guys?
Big Rig shows off a photo of his son; Cage brings up his ginormous cage-fighting championship belt; Brooklyn recites some terrible poetry; Cable Guy rather endearingly plays the saxophone; Sinister does a Michael Jackson/Corey Feldman-style dance number, for some unknown reason; Tool Box repeats the same tool-y male-stripper routine he did on the premiere (the big wow comes when he tears off his wife-beater undershirt--not!).
6 Gauge does a bar tending demonstration and makes a signature cocktail for Daisy, which goes over very well with milady.
Chi Chi reads a depressing and heartfelt letter about his feelings following the death of his father, which brings many tears to many douches' eyes and they give him a standing ovation and Daisy is touched, too, and now Chi Chi the tiny darkhorse contender is totally in like Flynn! Perhaps.
Finally, nutty nutball Flipper gets up and does a "rap" about the shortcomings of the other contestants, but all he does is make a fool out of himself, for it is the WORST RAP EVER WRITTEN. Seriously. Ali Lohan could definitely write a better ap. Dick Cheney could write a better rap. Chi Chi's dead dad could write a better rap. It was that bad.
Fox, Chi Chi, Weasel, 6 Gauge, Flex and London are asked to stay and the rest are sent off to reflect quietly about what they've just seen and done, then head into a Beyond Thunderdome-type arena to shout and scream at the next spectacle. The six who remain represent the highest and lowest scores: Fox, 6 Gauge, and London are the bottoms (heh) and Chi Chi, Weasel (go Weasel!), and Flex are the tops.
But there's a twist! The bottoms are given one more chance to redeem themselves and win a date with Daisy. Three middle-aged women dressed up to look like old ladies are brought into the Thunderdome and seated in chairs facing the audience of douches. Fox, 6 Gauge and London must perform lap-dances! On old ladies! Why, that goes against all the rules of nature. Yuk, yuk, yuk.
All three dudes seem to give it their all, but in the end, Daisy is still clearly enamored of London for some unfathomable reason, so he wins.
Later, the contestants gather outside on the lanais to drink and male bond with one another. Flipper thinks his rhymes would make Eminem weep with envy, when actually they just make everyone want to weep, period. He picks a fight with Cable Guy because he's the least likely one in the group to actually fight for no reason and it quickly escalates to Flipper smashing a bottle against his own head and blood pouring down his face. Then he flashes his backside at the group, then his frontside, and, since he's on roll, he proceeds to barge in on Daisy, who is alone in her room, thinking her thoughts and minding her own business. Flipper starts ranting about not wanting to compete against a bunch of morons (pot, kettle, etc.) to get her, and she tries to calm him down by saying that she, of all people, understands how hard it can be--and then he insults her, flips her off, and storms off the show. Although Flipper was probably our last hope for incredibly insane shenanigans, I must say it is a relief to see him go. It was exhausting just watching him be all craaaaazy all the time.
Flipper, we shall miss your backflips and manties and self-harming, but not much.
In his mad rush to get out of there, Flipper apparently forgets his hideous lime green shoes, so naturally Flex pees on them, as does Tool Box. Boys are weird.
Back in Douche Manor, Brooklyn's got problems. He drunkenly calls his girlfriend, who is peeved that he's, you know, on a dating show. She yells that if he makes out with anyone "it's over!" Just before he hangs up, Brooklyn tries to be all, "we're single, right?" but now she's got his phone number and every few minutes, all night long, she calls the house and screams at whoever answers the phone: "CHRIS [aka Brooklyn] HAS A GIRLFRIEND!"
The group dream date is surfing followed by lunch on the beach. Immediately Weasel starts complaining about the lack of proper refreshments; to wit: "Where's the Jack Daniels up in this bitch?" Oh, Weasel. Then when Daisy asks about his career prospects, he says a) his ex-wife supported him for 8 years, b) he used to be a "laser eye surgery" technician, but now c) just wants enough money to put "gas in his boat" and party all the time. Weasel, you're so blowing it, man.
Chi Chi uses his one-on-one time with Daisy to express his innermost yearnings; mainly, that he wants to hold in his arms a "petite" woman with "big boobs." Way to dream big, Chi Chi.
On the ride back, 6 Gauge rats out Brooklyn for the girlfriend phone call drama. Daisy makes a beeline to Brooklyn once they return to the Chateau des Tools, and Brooklyn tries to skirt the issue and Daisy's not too pleased. Then she decides to have some face time with the Professor because she feels she doesn't know much about him. While he yammers on about love and whatnot, she pretty much dozes off, which doesn't bode well for the Professor.
Elimination time! Chi Chi gets the first chain, which means he's getting ever closer to making his dream of hugging fake boobs a reality. Most everyone is safe, except for poor ole Weasel, Brooklyn, and Professor. Endearingly, Weasel tells the camera that he is so nervous his "balls are stuck" to his inner thighs. Unsurprisingly, his tour ends here.
Weasel, aka Pauly, we shall miss your extreme intoxication, rock-n-rolling ways, stuck balls, and old age.
It's down to Brooklyn, whose girlfriend who may or may not be stalking him, and Professor, who is dull. Professor, your tour ends here!
Goodbye, Mr. Chips.
Professor, aka Brandon, if we can remember what you look like, we shall miss your ersatz intellectualism, your bland "good looks," and your prop glasses.
Next week: Mayhem, madness, and manhandling, I'm pretty sure.