THE LOW LIFE
Penicillin, Anyone? You'll Need It On This 'Love' Sick Tour
LET''S TAKE 20 SKANKS WITH ALCOHOL PROBLEMS and put them on the road in a bus to see what happens. If you’ll recall, last summer, what happened was that one of the crew members on this mobile fuckfest slammed into another car on I-57 in Illinois and killed two 19-year-old women.
No word on whether Bret tried to resuscitate them with what we can only guess is an STD-infected tongue. He did ask VH1 to halt production on the show, though…you know, for a few days or whatever.
However, since he’s not one to bow out (he reserves that for relationships that might actually lead him somewhere besides the free clinic), Michaels is back in full swing, and this time, it’s 10 times nastier, skankier and more disgusting than anything we’ve previously seen.
In all frankness, I wonder sometimes if Bret Michaels just pops penicillin daily to keep the nasty fully contained. Is there, like, a battle raging inside this tormented soul? A battle, say, of his white blood cells against the sharp-fanged offspring of Gonorrhea? God – no, scratch that – SATAN only knows.
I won’t even get into the petty shit, because neither you guys nor I have the time or energy. What I will address from the first episode is the shot heard ‘round the world. I speak, of course, of the *ahem* coochie shot. Holy shit, Gia. You actually managed to disgust Bret Michaels, who, earlier, confessed to another girl, who had done porn, that he’d jerked off to her routinely.
Rock Bottom, meet Gia. Gia…meet rehab and a fucking clue, sweetheart. Get in touch with that daddy who left you and tell him he owes you some hugs and an explanation. I can’t believe she isn’t even embarrassed about that. But then again, there’s a lot of stuff about this show that I can’t believe.
Another of those unbelievable aspects of the Bus is the porn star I just mentioned. Her name is Brittany, but I'll call her Bunny, as in bunny boiler, because that’s what she’s shaping up to be.
The second episode features the first challenge, which revolved around a “wedding,” and what the vows would be, etc. It was just a fun way for Bret to get to know the Cliffs Notes versions of these broads so he could fuck off to that night’s show already, and here comes Bunny with FIVE FUCKING PAGES about the “wings of love” and “with love in my eyes and soul” because she insists she’s a singer/songwriter now. It’s cute, really. Like when your dog throws up and then feels bad about it so they eat it so you won’t have to clean it. She gets worse, of course, and Bret keeps her, OF COURSE.
And here’s where I need to point out that ROL has become an hour-long public service message to fathers: HUG YOUR DAMN DAUGHTERS. Or else they end up sticking shit up their crotches to compete for the affections of a man who just wants to stick HIS shit in there and move on. Do you want your little girl to become the human equivalent of a truck stop urinal? Jesus, let’s try a little harder, Dads of America.
I’m thoroughly disgusted, and yet I still watch. Someone please explain this phenomenon, so I can get the proper help I need.
Miz J, who works in advertising, has tons of opinions and a big mouth to broadcast them across the globe; however, the Internet saves her the trouble of yelling. Check out her blog at Miz J.
Posted January 12, 2009
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