OK, so a long time ago, back in the days of the Playstation, when there was no PS1 or 2 or 3, just Playstation, I played one of the Final Fantasy games.  I don’t remember which one.  One night I played it for about 10 hours straight.  Whereupon I came to some event for which I needed a special item.  Said item was passed up about 6 and a half hours earlier and now UNATTAINABLE.  Without this item I could not proceed.  And there was no way to go back and get it that didn’t take another ten hours.

I never played another Final Fantasy game again.  That shit pisses me RIGHT off.  Well, Bioshock has a moment like that.  It happens in the wharf area.

The rest of the game is so good that I am not going to put it down forever, but I am sorely disappointed in this kind of glaring flaw.

Scratch everything I wrote.  I’m the idiot.  I found a room that I did not see before, that led to another, and lo and behold, the spider splicer came after me.  I photographed it and then killed it, and when I eventually backtracked to the blocked area, it was open.  My humble apologies, Mr. Ken Levine.  I apologize for doubting your level design.  :)

- Lastly, I thought this was hysterical:

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Can you imagine the doctor that put those in?  Just an utter lack of medical ethics.  It’d be almost sad if it weren’t so damn comical.  Turns out this is the more conservative end of the large implant movement.  Chelsea Charms is sporting implants so big that they weight 26 pounds each.

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- We begin with a recap, which only serves to remind me what a complete and total douchebag Bret is, and of course to solidify the fact that Tiffy McDrunkenwhore is a producer’s favorite.

- Oh.  My.  God.  The intro.  THE INTRO.  Oh my God.  ohgoditmakesmybrainhurt.  It’s like someone took the cut-out stop motion animation of Monty Python, added a track by a Poison cover band, only this is their first original song, and then went to a place like Digital Domain or ILM and said “Do you have a filter in your software that can add a few layers of douche to this?  It’s just...too cool.  There has to be a way to douche the whole thing up somehow.  Is that like, something you can do with After Effects or something?” And then the guys in the production studio at VH1 enabled the douche filter and away went any semblance of cool.

- The episode opens with Bret lifting like, six pounds on a Nautilus machine.  What a douche.

- Lacey and Brandi C. are chatting about Drunky McFergface and what a drunken, ugly, stupid, vapid, loser of a whore she is.  Sadly, I don’t disagree.  They ran one of her “Don’t threaten me with a good time” lines in slo-mo.  The producers so love her.  She vows to be low-key.

- Erin admits the she was supposed to be married in May.  Heather, aka Stripper Showmytits, is like “What?  I so determined to get Erin’s phoney ass out of here, with her big ol’ stupid circus boobs.” YOU’RE A FUCKING STRIPER, YOU WHORE.  What the frigging fuck?  What in the flying blue hell?  The stripping half-ugly bar wench is mad at this girl for breaking up with her fiancee getting dumped, and for having implants?  That’s like hating Ronald McDonald for having red hair.  Talk about tilting at windmills.

- A few of the whores start drinking.  No word on what time of day it is, but it’s early.  I see Stripper Showmytits (Heather), Punky Brewster (Jes), Red Sonja (Lacey), Rodeo (who is a cartoon unto herself and needs no nickname), Girl With A Penis (Magdalena), a girl I don’t know, someone I think is Meadow Soprano (Mia) and Alternagirl (Sam).  Heather “If you’re gonna date a rock star, you gotta party like a rock star.” Except diabetic Douchebag won’t be alive for more than a week if he really lived like this...he’s not going to want to get hammered at noon, ladies.

- Last week, we were told that there were three rules.  One of which was ‘Don’t touch the guitars.” So of course, one of the first things the whores do is touch the guitars.  Stripper Showmytits on drums, Rodeo on gee-tar, Alternachick singing freestyle, Red Sonja on bass.  Douchebag hears it and decides to join in.  He’s playing the theme to the show.  Some of the whores are pole dancing.  I notice Punky Brewster is NOT participating.  Her confessional is all “Eww, gross.” Yeah.  pretty much.

- Faux lesbian kissing.  How predictable.

- Dallas has the line of the show so far: “I think the house turned into one of those horrible strip clubs you find by the airport that are full of fat chicks with huge implants.” Perfect.  That’s exactly what it was.  Sad, half-ugly broads doing stupid whore shit to get one washed-up douche to maybe pay a little attention to their cooze-holes.

- Alternachick was describing how there are two camps, and I was about to list who was in which camp when the VH1 Graphics Department came through for me:

God bless the VH1 Graphics Department.

- So the NotWhores are out back, chatting about how whore-like the “We’re all Whores” group is.  Cut to what looks like the Blonde Wondertwins making out.  Bret says, and I quote:

When God was handing out douchebags, Bret must have thought he said “do-rags” and asked for extra, because that was like a super-medicated Massengil douche right up the old babymaker.

- One of the Whore Brigade (Red Sonja) tries to make friends with NotWhoreCrew.  Jes was all “Get the fuck out of my face you annoying whorebucket trashbag bitch.” Well, she didn’t actually use those words, but if that wasn’t what she was thinking, I’ll suck Magdalena’s dick.  Red Sonja thinks they have sticks up their asses.  Actually, sweety, they don’t have anything up their asses.  They’re trying to not be complete whores.  You, on the other hand, would shove a MGD bottle up your turdcutter if you thought it would land you a rock star boyfriend.

- Bimbo C. and Red Sonja plot to throw Punky Brewster into the pool.  Now, Lacey and Jes are not friends.  They’re not even friendly.  And Lacey simply walked up behind Jes and literally yoked her by the neck backward into the pool.  There was nothing cute, fun or jokey about it.  It was an a number one cunt move from top to bottom, and Jes is about to kill a bitch.  Commercial.

- Back from commercial, and all the whores are mocking Punky.  This will not end well for Red Sonja.

- Big John walks in with a folder.  There’s a song inside from Bret.

Now it’s time for you to get dressed
and find out which gives phone the best
When I’m on the road, when I’m on tour
I’m away from my baby and it’s a bore
I need a love who can get on the phone
Get me hot, and give me a...good time.

Oh that Bret.  He’s so witty douchey.

The three of you who light my flame
will win the first date of this here game
so be creative and make me hot,
because tomorrow some will stay and some will not.

Oh that Bret.  He’s so witty douche-like.

- Sidebar: Donna paused the TV on a close-up of Tiffany McDrunkenwhoreslutskankbitch.  That is, to put it mildly, an unfortunate-looking woman.

- (Read this next line like Jon Waters was saying it) Oh my!  All the girls are soo nervous!  I mean, this is soooo nerve wracking!  Should we get more drunk before we do this?  Ohmigoawd yes!

- Tiffany decides to start in on the wine.  Bad, bad, bad idea.  She starts pounding HUGE goblets of wine.  They’re like giant TGI Fridays-sized glasses and she’s knockin’ ‘em back like it’s a Friday night and she’s swallowin’ loads out behind Brocko’s Tavern or some shit.

- Two things: Bret is wearing some kind of pajamas that look like he stole one of Shaquille O’Neil’s suits.  WAY too big, insanely loud and ugly.  BUT...that’s not the most shocking thing:

Bret Michaels is not wearing a hat, bandanna or headband or any kind.  What we can see is that Bret Michaels now has a seven-head.  It;s like a forehead, only three inches higher.  :)

- Here’s the game: there’s a guy, named Dr. Roy (not an accredited doctor).  Hey, that’s EXACTLY what the kiron says.  Not an accredited doctor.  Dr. Roy has a machine called the...and I am totally guessing at the spelling, the plasthismograph.  It has a little ring that goes around Bret’s cock, and will measure his arousal.

Sweet fuck, I cannot believe this is actually on television.  Al Qaeda is right, we need to be destroyed as a people, because this is just WRONG.

- Hair update - we get a closer look at Bret’s “hair” and I will bet anyone on earth five thousand dollars that is a wig.  It doesn’t move naturally and it looks like dead horse hair.

- Bimbo C. is first.  And in the confessional cutaway, Douchey mentions his diabetes one more fucking time.  Hey Dickbag - WE GET IT.  WE KNOW YOU’RE A DIABETIC.  At least I am not being “treated” to many, many angles of Bret riding the Hollywood Taxi bike again.

Yet.

- Various and assorted girls say nasty shit, then the girl from the drunk scene before that I don’t know or recognize starts talking like someone’s mom.  It’s the opposite of hot.  If I were strokin’ it and she started saying this boring shit, I would find a way to become a digital signal, travel through the phone line and strangle her with my ball sack.  Cause my shit stretches.  Little personal info for you there.  I can choke a bitch with my nutsack.  Enjoy that visual.

- Chick With A Penis is next, and she starts singing him a song.  Now, let me set the scene: 

You’re a supposed hot chick (even though you still have bait and tackle).  You’re on a television show, dressed in lingerie, and your job is to talk dirty to Bret Michaels in order to get his dick hard.  So, instead of talking nasty about your big fat titties, or perhaps pretending that you have a pussy and maybe describing how you’d like him to touch it...instead of any of that, you sing this, kind of to the tune of the theme song from Growing Pains:

Once I received a phone call from LA
I knew that God finally heard my prayer
I’m gonna see you my little Bret-tay
An’ I’m so sure I can make you sweat-tay...

AAAANNNND Bret hangs up.  No seriously, he hung up on her.  Dizz-zamn.  That’s all sorts of embarrassing.

- OH JESUS CHRIST, Erin decides to do a dirty British nanny, and her British accent sounds like Danny Aiello trying to do a British nanny.  I’m not saying she sounded like a New Yorker, but imagine the terrible, awkard disconnect between Aiello’s voice and say, Mary Poppins.  Yep.  HeartlandHooters (Erin) was about that bad.

- Red Sonja fucking straight out said “When you’re not here with me, it’s like the wind has been removed from my sail.” On what fucking planet is that hot?  “Hello, my darling.  When I am separated from you, I feel as though my ability to forwardly locomote a sailing vessel is greatly inhibited.” Double-you Tee Eff?  She keeps going about treating him like a king and Bret says in the confessional cutaway that it was pure poetry, “like dragons flying around towers.” I’m not trying to re-use this word as a joke; I actually think that Bret Michaels might be the worlds biggest douchebag.  If there was a three hundred foot tall woman who needed, on doctor’s orders, to douche her vagina with bleach and battery acid, Bret Michaels is the only vessel large enough and resistant enough to contain such a corrosive mixture.

- Tiffiwhore is up.  Drunk off her ass.  She’s having zero effect on his penis.  And true to DrunkenWhore form, she drops that “Don’t threaten me with a good time” line again.  NEW DRINKING GAME - Everytime Tiffany says “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you have to go to an AA meeting and thank God that you are not an alcoholic.  Bret hung up.

- One of the quiet girls is up - one of only like three brunettes, BTW - and she’s about as good at this as I am at speaking Chinese.

- The next girl up is straight 900-number nasty, and Bret’s penis monitor goes apeshit.  I can’t tell who this chick is yet, but you know that Douchebag is gonna pick her.  She was last.

- Bret comes into the room with the results.  Commercial.

- Back from the break, and I’ve written 2075 words so far not counting this sentence.  The TiVo says we’re 24 minutes into this recording.  Somebody save me.  Oh wait, wrong hair band.  :)

- Tiffany had the worst result.  A Penis Pulse of 2.1 Her confessional cutaway said, and I quote: “Bredd’s gonna be elimnayde tunnite not me.”

- Other Brunette was Faith, and Bret said “Gramma’s apple pie gets me hotter than that.” Yes Bret, I saw American Pie too.

- Tamara had a Penis Pulse rating of 5.2.  Not the worst, but not good at all.

- #10 was Erin doing the British Nanny with a 17.2 Penis Pulse rating.  Confessional cutaway from StripperShowmytit: “Erin, who has a fiancee...” Listen you dumb whore...her finacee dumped her!  Try listening to the whole story next time.

- The last girl, the extra dirty talker was Rodeo...I said to Donna I thought it was Rodeo, but she convinced me it wasn’t.  Her Penis Pulse rating was 19.5.  I suppose that on the phone she could raise the blood pressure, as long as you didn’t have to actually look at her handbag-quality leather face.

- #12 was an PP of 18, and it was Red Sonja.  That makes the winners Red Sonja, Rodeo and HeartlandHooters.

- Bimbo C. is trying to pick a fight with Erin.  Bimbo C. actually tries the old stupid blonde bitch trick of saying ‘I’m beautiful and you can’t stand it.” Erin fires back with “You are beautiful in the meth world, for sure you are.” My respect for HeartlandHooters just went up a little.  The rest of the fight was just Bimbo C. trying desperately to keep up with HeartlandHooters insulting her eight ways from Sunday.  And here’s where it all turns against Heartland.

See, Bimbo C. was in a car wreck, and has scars on her face.  Erin called her a “meth-scratched face.” And Brandi started crying.  You know what?  FUCK Brandi C.  She should in no way have ever started this argument in the first fuck place.  She took it to the next level EVERY time it escalated until Erin was looking to simply shut her down and make her stop talking.  So she went there.  And Bimbo C. can’t deal.  Boo fucking hoo.  Play the victim card when YOU started the fight?  Stupid whore.  Cry.

- Token would NOT be a good match for Rikki Rocket, I tell you whut.  She broke out with the “Fuck all pets.  I only wear animals and eat them.” Ouch.  PETA will be all over this girl like white on rice.  Or in this case, black on licorice.  Get it?  because Dallas is black.  Great.  Now Je$$e Jackson is going to picket my house and call me a racist.

Anyway, Lacey is all animal activist chicka, and they can’t stand each other and be in the same room.  So Bimbo C. is going to switch with Token.  I’m the middle of switching she’s crying her face off and telling all the other drunken whores that “Erin made fun of my car accident.” Which is so not what happened, but whatever.  It’s like picking sides in a kindergarten slap fight.

- Jesus H. Christ, Brandi C went running to Bret and cried on him.  And then this fucking dumb whore actually likened a scar on her face to a disability.  YOU CAN’T SEE THEM!  It’s not a fucking disability!  Bret is all outraged.  Here’s to hoping he watches the tape and doesn’t trust this bleached idiot’s word.  Now...in the middle of all this, Bret admits that when Bimbo C. speaks, as he put it, “in that little titmouse voice” it just turns him on.  So here’s this stupid, vapid whore of a waste of air, crying at him about her supposed disability and the evil clown-titted skank who mocked her, and he’s thinking “If I play this just right, she’ll rim me later.” Douche.  Bag.

“If I was in a wheel chair would you make fun of me for it?” Oh dear god.  Then Bret, as DOnna put it, “cleaned her tonsils” and walked her out.  Wow.

- Next day - date day.  Big John has another folder from Bret.  It;s another shitty poem that basically says the winners get to go out, losers stay home, four will be elminated tonight.

- The date starts at Jim Henson Studios (recording, not the puppet place) to meet Don Was.  The deal was the girls get to record backing vocals I guess.  KNow what I saw in Bret’s close-up as he kissed Red Sonja after she laid down her vocal?  Bret’s getting old man jowls.  :)

- Rodeo is up next.  Not a good singer.  It devolves into her just moaning.  Can you say one-trick pony?  Then the editors focus on her laughing at herself for like 90 seconds.  Have you ever heard the air come out of a car tire very slowly?  Imagine that sound coming out of Leatherface from the Texas Chansaw Massacre, and you just saw exactly what I watched.

- Lacey was all “I don’t see Rodeo as a threat.” Big mistake.  Rodeo may be a tough, weather-worn chick but she’s right up Bret’s alley.

- Erin was last, and she’s not a singer and wasn’t interested, but Bret talks her into it.  She does some sexy talk.  Then they sit and chat and Bret stares at her titties the whole time.  I really can’t say he’s wrong for doing it, because for fuck’s sake they are HUGE.  They seem like Double E’s.  Just ridiculously large.

- Back to the house.  Whores and NotWhores are divided.  StripperShowmytits has named the two sides “The A Team and “The Varsity Club.” She’s so fucking dumb she doesn’t know that the Varsity squad is the A Team.  JUNIOR varsity would be the B team, you unimaginably stupid wench.  Here’s the team listing as presented by the producers:

THE A Team

Heather as “The Captain”
Lacey as “The Instigator”
Tawny as “The Body”
and The Barbie Twins as “The Brains”

The Varsity Squad is everyone else, I guess.

- Back to the studio.  The song is shit, but Don Was says “I’m hearin’ a hit.” Looks like someone needed a line to get a union card.

- Back to the house, and the producers have embraced this A Team thing.  The caption says “A TEAM HEADQUARTERS, 7:03 PM” Oh lord.

- Stripper Showmytits is still talking shit about Erin’s “fiancee.” They’re plotting to get rid of her.  They;re gonna tell Bret on her.  Only, you know...they’re fucking wrong. And stupid.  And whores.

- Date girls are back.  Bret is planning to chat up the girls.  Tamara is looking at him like he’s explaining astrophysics.  Confessional cutway from Douchebag Mcheadband: “Here;s the thing about Tamara, no connection and dumb as a box of rocks, listen, the bottom line is she’s fuckin’ hot. (stammering here) I’m figurin’ after a little miscommunication, our bodies could do the talkin’.” Douche.  Bag.

- Tiffiwhore is opening another bottle of wine.

- The Whores are spreading that Erin has a boyfriend.  Then we get the clip of Heather telling Bret.  Bret’s all pissed off about it, only it’s not true.  He tells Big John to go get Erin.  She walks in and he says that fucking douchey thing he keep saying:  “What’s Ah Goin’ On?” It’s a fucking lyric from one of his fucking songs and he fucking says it in everyday fucking conversation.  I do not have a font size large enough to emphasize what a douchebag this makes him.  Just imagine that you are driving down the street, and painted on the side of the largest building you have ever seen are letter three hundred feet high that say “Bret Michaels is a douchebag.” That comes close to how large I want those words to be.  Back to yelling at Erin.

Bret asks her about her relationship.  She tells him.  Bret is all gonna bring Heather out to confront Erin.  Damn, I gotta give it to him...he isn’t doing shit behind anyone’s back.  Commercial.

- Back, and StripperShowmytits is worried that she went too far.  Tiffany is like “Tonight, Branda is goin hum.  Branda?  Brendi? Oh shit.” Brandi C. thinks Erin is going home.

STOP THE FUCKING PRESSES.

OK, you know those duster coats that western and Australian dudes wear? Like this.  Imagine one of those made entirely from black & white cow spots.  BRET IS WEARING THAT RIGHT NOW ON MY TV.  Also, a hat made from brown and red and white, with flames on the brim and an airbrushed flag, skull and God knows what else on the main part of the hat.  It also has words on the rolled up brim: “American Outlaw.” It’s like a horrible explosion of everything that Kiss and Rob Zombie have ever owned.

Back to the eliminations.

- Rodeo is the first girl to get a pass.  Told you.  She’s going to stay, scare me with her face and of course rock Bret’s world.  Punky Brewster is staying.  So is Red Sonja, Meadow Soprano, Girl With A Penis, Token Black Girl, Alternachick, Brandi M. (who has no personality so no nickname yet), Stupid Blonde Scarface and Other Stupid Blonde Wondertwin.

- He calls out Stripper Showmytits.  He “confessionals” that she’s his friend.

- Last pass goes to: no one yet.  He talks about the girls that are leaving.  Faith, Tiffany, Tawny and Tamara (about whom he said “what a fucking waste” and he was right)

- Last pass goes to Erin.  He believed her.  Or, the producers wanted Erin and Heather (HeartlandHooters and Stripper Showmytits) to stay on the show and catfight.

- Wow.  Tamara tried to leave by the wrong door and Bret had to yell her to use the front door.  Box o’ rocks indeed.

- “For everyone staying in this house, are we ready to rock this house.” OH FUCKING STOP IT YOU BALD FUCK!!  See, this is what makes people get all crazy and want to shoot at strangers from clock towere.  Douchebags saying douchey things all the damn time.

OK, the clips for next week is Lacey trying to bait Dallas into hitting her over the whole animals thing.  Sweet.

3816 words.  I should be punished for that.  Oh wait, I am already being punished by this damned show.  So there’s that.

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Oh that’s just wrong.  Run, ladies!  It’s not worth it!

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She’s been ordered by the original sentencing judge to do the entire 45 days with credit for 5 already served.

Schadenfreude.  I hope that feeling is seared into the peanut that passes for this moron’s brain.  I hope she cries for the entire 45 god-damned days.  Maybe then she’ll stop driving around LA drunk.

You know why this was important?  Yes, it’s Paris Hilton, and she’s a waste of air.  Her entire life exists to be the punchline to millions of jokes a week.  But this was a real, legal case here, and it would have set a dangerous precedent.  One, it would allow any non-violent inmate to get commuted to house arrest because prison was “too hard.” Two, it establishes a clear precedent of blatantly favoring rich white girls over say, poor black males who have never, to anyone’s knowledge, received this kind of consideration for their mental well-being in the LA County jail system.

This was not only unfair, it was a long series of lawsuits waiting to happen.  All in all, it was a good decision by the DA to pursue it and a great decision by the judge to cut off the celebrity special treatment.  Plus, I mean...schadenfreude.

That will never get old.  I love that the system worked.

As I post this, the situation is literally being treated as breaking news.  Paris is potentially so upset that she’s been taken to USC Medical Center.  Or she’s at the Twin Towers jail facility.  Or she’s flying under her own wing power to the moon to escape the evil bad men who want to force her to pay her debt to society.  One of those three has to be true, but with Paris Hilton, good luck figuring out which one.  It’s also reported that she had to be carried/dragged out of the courtroom and she was screaming and cryng for her mother.

Hey...that’s terrible, Paris.  I’m sure you’re terribly upset.  Get it out of your system, then calm the hell down and realize that you’re an adult, you did something wrong and pay for it.  The world is not here for the care and comfort and amusement of Paris Hilton.  Shut up, do the time and learn from your mistake.  You could have killed someone and not even realized it.  You’re doing 45 days in a protected wing of a county jail.  You could have been doing a lot of years in gen-pop in a state prison if you’d accidentally ran someone down while choosing to drive drunk.  Suck it up and deal with it like an adult.

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