For just a few short moments, we're allowed to see what the world would be without the money-grubbing, conniving beyotches of the VH1 TV shows multiplying throughout our land like cancer. It would be simple, scenic, and serene. Then, the two catamarans of the apocalypse descend, ushering in a new era of whoredom heretofore unseen by mankind.
Frank, a.k.a. "The Entertainer," from I Love New York 2 was dubbed "a loser" by New York (ouch!). He's excited to move on with his pathetic life, and, so be it, "kill two birds with one stone" by maybe finding the love of his life on this (shit)show. "Rodeo," who was booted by Bret Michaels on Rock of Love 2, has come to the Eighth Circle of Hell (all expenses paid!) to win money. Similarly, "Chance" from I Love New York 2 will do just about anything... other than eat "ching chongs or ding dongs." I don't make the rules, folks, I just report 'em...
up, the peroxide nightmare known as "Pumkin" readily admits that her claim to fame is spitting on another human being. Sure, that human being (and the term is used very loosely) was New York, but still... With ample cleavage on display, Pumkin guarantees than any hooking up on the show will involve her. And speaking of tramps with standards lower than their shirts are cut, we see a brief glimpse of Heather, from Rock of Love.
But, before we get to meet the Queen Bee-atch herself, I present to you "Mr. Boston," the original nose-picking Lothario of I Love New York. Like Pumkin, Boston plans to bed a lot of skags during this shame spiral that is this show. Speaking of self-proclaimed pimps with dubious-sized packages, it's everyone's favorite D-minus-grade celebrity of smaller stature -- MIDGET MAC!!! The I Love New York 2 teeny-weeny pimp greets us and the other contestants with a guttural bark and the guarantee that he will "party like a rock star," not to mention a few well-placed pelvic thrusts and some confusing, though endearing, uses of the "izzle" suffix.
Trying to steal Mac's thunder is "Heat" from I Love New York. I know "12 Pack" is yet to come, and I don't want to preempt my own jokes, but what a friggin' d-bag. I guess that's not a joke, per se. But that's the thing. I don't even have to make a joke. He's the joke. Either way, Heat plans to take out anybody and everybody on his path to d-bag glory.
Megan from Rock of Love 2 is most notable for being a stupid trampy hag (which is unique among the Rock of Love contestants, I swear!), wearing a bikini, and being a semi-racist dog owner who thought bringing her Chihuahua to Mexico would be the equivalent of taking Alex Haley back to Africa. Roots!
Alas, before we meet any of the other dumb bastards, we must endure several minutes of what Chance accurately dubs "our first challenge: gettin' out tha boat." I kid, in part, because I love these people deep within my soul, but -- for real --they are some dumb as rocks, the whole lot of them. Many stand in the boats, confused. Many jump out with impeccably bad timing and are soaked in the rising two-foot currents. The only truly terrified contestant is Midget Mac, who recounts some story of watching a relative drown at a family reunion. But, let's be honest, much of his fear must result from his small size. I'm sure many little people are excellent swimmers, but I'm confident that this is not Mac's forte. As we head to break, nobody puts it better than the man himself, when he says, "Oh shizzle, Mac's about to drizzle."
We return to Midget Mac floating adrift, all kinds of drunk, and generally unwilling to make the three-foot jump from boat to shore. As he ponders the tides of fate and his possible impending drowning death, 12 Pack from I Love New York saves us all the suspense by coming to Mac's rescue. You mean, that wasn't the central crisis-leviathan of the whole episode? What will they come up with ?!
Now that they're all ashore, they head up to their house, where they meet host Craig J. "CJ" Jackson. CJ says there will be physical and mental challenges based on each of their shows' unique feats of embarrassment. To lose is to be dismissed once and for all. To win is to inch closer to buying back dignity. In case we weren't sure of the high stakes, The Entertainer offers to eat a human heart in order to win. Dude, that's really not necessary.
The kids make a mad dash for the bedrooms, which is coincidentally the home turf of "Toastee," the porn star with a heart of gold that even Flavor Flav considered too skanky. Toastee feigns bonding with Nibblz, the ghetto-bootied dominatrix who outed Toastee as a cooch-for-hire way back when, but ultimately reveals that she doesn't trust Nibblz. She says her "only true ally" is Pumkin and seals the deal with by riding Pumkin's back pony-style while Pumkin ceremoniously slaps her on the ass.
Heat and 12 Pack jump on their beds like first-class dill weeds. Brokeback-style music plays as they talk about some business they formed that we don't care about. Nearby, Destiney from Rock of Love 2 happily greets Heather, who once convinced her to do a naked cartwheel, and is presently bringing up the booze. She has taken a shining to 12 Pack, who she calls the male version of her. (I'm guessing she has an extremely low and contempt-riddled opinion of herself.) Heat and Destiney, Heather and 12 Pack are all feeling each other and plan to share a room. Heat incorporates the word "orgy." For his part, The Entertainer stakes his claim for sloppy seconds on Destiney if it doesn't work out with Heat. Classy.
Apropos of this, Heat proposes an alliance before a single herpe has the chance to drop. He proposes (to 12 Pack mainly), "You. Me. Heather. Destiney. Badaboom." And... sold! 12 Pack anticipates a similar pact between brothers Real and Chance, and Whiteboy. Cut to said gruesome threesome and Whiteboy's recap of their bromancing on I Love New York. Whiteboy is careful to couch their impending alliance, calling it a "bond."
While many are already worrying about alliances, others are just hoping to find a place to sleep. Namely, Mr. Boston. Because nobody likes him. The math genii among the I Love Money contestants have ascertained that there are 17 contests -- but only 16 beds. Any casual fan of Top Model knows that means someone is getting skadooshed before night first falls.
Boston tries to charm his way into Toastee's bed. She gives him a courtesy laugh when he says they don't have to do anything... but if they do, he can "go all night." But let's just backtrack: A courtesy laugh from an amateur porn star. Yikes. He continues his noble quest with Megan and fellow blonde bimbo Brandi C. from Rock of Love, but they find him creepy. Their solution? Hide one of the beds. Yeah, and when there's a leaky faucet, try putting some bubble gum on it. Works every time!
The day, CJ invites the kids out for a big ol' cock tease. He offers to sign a check for $250,000 for each of them, right then and there if they explain how the money will help their lives. Mr. Boston kicks off with some sputtering and stuttering about made-up girlfriends. "Real," Boston's formidable competitor from I Love New York calls a spade a spade and predicts that Boston will, in fact, use the money to procure more blow-up dolls. Boston continues to natter on about Ferraris and pimping on the Sunset Strip as CJ signs the check. Just before he hands the check over to Boston, though, CJ explains that all the checks will be kept in a lockbox. As each contestant is eliminated, the checks will be rendered void. It's a surprisingly appropriate cultural allegory for this show. You lose, you're worthless, thanks for playing!
Toastee says she'll use the money to pay her way through psychiatry school, which will be a nice bookend to dealing with the crazies on these shows. Pumkin says she wants a boob job. Megan harmlessly throws in that "Saggy boobs suck," but Pumkin gets all bent out of shape about it because, truth be told, she does have saggy boobs. She tries to get all up in Megan's face (from 20 feet away), but Megan counters Pumkin's would-be brawling with "Well then why do you want a boob job?" And the jury has spoken.
There's some discussion of Boston and Pumkin's fleeting ho-mance, but I'm going to spare you hours of vomiting and just say it's awkward (and involves premature ejaculation -- okay, sorry! There's one hour of vomiting... but it could have been more!).
The Entertainer is given a flashback-heavy scene that plays out like a scene from Cribs, with his Mom interrupting all of his pimptastic lines. Don't you hate when that happens? If you think about it, this guy's stakes are probably higher than anyone else's because it's between freedom and jail time for double parental homicide.
The ultimate Mama's boy Heat goes into some weird, nonsense sob story about his mother having screwed-up surgery, and it gets about a second and a half of airtime because no one buys into his B.S. Rodeo explains she'll use the money to expand her emerging brand of redneck food and clothing products. Also hoping to secure some personal gain (or loss as it were) is Heather, who hopes to remove the "Bret" tattoo she idiotically got on Rock of Love.
While some claim they'll be using the money on family, rather than 40s and Funyons -- namely "Hoopz" (the original winner of Flavor of Love), Real, and Midget Mac (minus the $50k he pledges to strippers) -- most of the others admit that they'll spend the cash on themselves. These are some really selfish bitches, for sure, but why not? They're exposing themselves to the most humiliating circumstances possible. They might as well reap the profits. And the weirdest use of winnings goes to... Megan, who will use the dough to raise awareness about retarded dogs.
As he mentally runs over the contract he signed with Satan, CJ explains the game. There will be two teams, each with a captain. For the first challenge, everyone must don an itsy bitsy bikini. Cue gratuitous Boston Speedo-stuffing sequence. Midget Mac puts on a big old song and dance about not degrading himself and giving the producers/audience what they want to see. Then why are you on this show?! Hoopz immediately determines that the best solution is to give the little man some more liquor. That doesn't go over well, and they go back and forth.
Eventually he calls her a "[BLEEP!]" I'm assuming it's a word worse than "bitch" (and maybe rhymes with "runt"?) but, damn you, basic cable, I'll never know. Either way, Hoopz is mad enough to threaten throwing him into the water. Ha! Then all the others hobags jump to her defense since Mac has so brazenly degraded women. And again I ask, Then why are you on this show?! Even Whiteboy is affronted by Mac's outburst. You know you're in deep doo-doo when you've offended a pawn shop owner. They're like the scavengers of our species. In short (no pun intended), things aren't looking good for the littlest fame whore. Commercials.
When we return, the whole gang is out on the front lawn for the first challenge, which involves stepping into a wind tunnel that swirls cash around them. Of course, they must shove as many bills into the folds of their itsy bitsy bikinis as possible. (Other than this challenge's equal opportunity offensiveness, I much preferred the meatball-mashing version seen on That's Amore.) The two contestants that grab the most cash during their 30 second turn will be named team captains. It's especially important since the captains will choose teams and be safe from tonight's elimination.
Of course there's still the matter of those few contestants clinging to their "dignity." Whiteboy quickly decides to go big or go home. Midget Mac, on the other hand, hems and haws about putting on panties, but CJ reminds him that it's only 30 seconds worth $250 grand. He spits out some Snow-like sentence ending, I believe, in "bitch-ass shit," and that we're meant to interpret as "Thank you, good sir, but I respectfully decline." And Midget Mac is out... for the count, I suspect. CJ spells out the final rules: Money cannot be put in mouths or shoes, and can't be grabbed directly off the floor. Let the money grubbing begin!
Megan goes first. It's ends quickly because she's a dumbass and grabs the money from the floor. up, her co-president of the Blonde Idiocracy Brandi C. is disqualified not one minute later for the exact same reason. Even 12 Pack thinks they're morons. Heat turns the tide by grabbing bills like the stripper he swears he is not. Heather, who used to be a "dancer" in Vegas, admits her advantage as she enters the money chamber. A succession of gratuitous crotch shots follows, during which we learn some disturbing things, including but not limited to: Real has bitch tits, and The Entertainer has a hard-on for Rodeo. Boston empties out his crotch stuffing to "make room" for the money, then exposes his entire schlong to the other contestants. He might claim it was inadvertent, but I'm positive it was a psych-out tactic.
There's a bit of a kerfluffle when Chance refuses to take his bandanna off, but in the end, Whiteboy and Hoopz displayed the most speed and skill in jamming bills down their jocks. None of this is good news for Midget Mac, we're reminded. CJ sends them off to discuss, connive, and all-out plead for their lives before a dodge ball-style team-picking ceremony.
While the girls grovel and suck up, Boston gets to changing clothes in public. Well that's one way to convince people to choose you... Then he makes a beeline for the team captains. They humor him -- probably because they think it will be funny. Unfortunately for everyone concerned, it's not. He attempts to lure Whiteboy in with the "We're both Jews" angle and woos Hoopz by complimenting her muscular arms.
Megan quickly realizes she can't coexist on a team with Pumkin, ultimately choosing to secure a place on Whiteboy's team by "stroking that ass crack." I am not making this up. For his part, Whiteboy somehow manages to remember, despite Megan's ass crack and "personality," that he needs to keep his mind on the money (and the money on his mind). On the other end of the spectrum is Nibblz, who totally avoids kissing ass in hopes that her beautiful soul will shine through. Instead, she straddles a divan and has phone sex with her boyfriend.
We return, meanwhile, to the riveting cliffhanger of the mattress hidden by Brandi C. and Megan. Boston caught wise to their subterfuge, thanks to Pumkin, and refuses to take even the most fourth-grade of clues that he is the house's official "Captain Cootie." Brandi C., who I needn't remind you has extremely low standards, sums it up best: "Mr. Boston's creepy. He's Creepy Creeperson, creepy creeptastic, creepy creepy."
Downstairs, Midget Mac pours as much free booze in his cup as he can while pretending he's not nervous about getting kicked off. The Entertainer (a loser who lives in his basement) tries to talk strategic sense into Mac, who responds with a contrite belch. I Love Money's resident feminist Rodeo takes Mac aside to advise him to apologize to Hoopz. Being the kind of good-hearted lady who picks up itinerants on the side of the road, Rodeo believes Mac deserves a second chance. But we're spared. Mac maintains that he was antagonized and, thus, justified in calling the women on the show bitches (which they are) and whores (which they are). Hell, I don't think he even needed to be antagonized to throw either of those terms out there. Rodeo's big faux intervention ends with her and Brandi C. being even more confused than before and Midget Mac asking for another drink.
Now it's time to choose the teams! CJ again explains that the two team captains will choose their teammates until the proverbial "fat kid in gym class" doesn't get picked. Gold Team captain Hoopz choose Rodeo first, saying that Rodeo has strength and heart -- the two ideals of the Gold Team. Green Team captain Whiteboy chooses Chance as his first teammate based on Chance's physical and mental stability. Not so sure on that second count there, buddy, but you do what you gotta do... As the rosters fill out, Hoopz picks 12 Pack, The Entertainer (even though he's a dummy), Heather, Toastee, and Pumkin. Whiteboy opts for Real, Mr. Boston ("for mental capabilities only"), Heat (who doesn't want to be on Whiteboy's team -- zing!), Destiney, and Megan.
And then there were three. CJ gives Brandi C., Midget Mac, and Nibblz the chance to plead their cases. Brandi C. kicks off by claiming she's an amazing athlete. Whiteboy immediately challenges her to do 10 push-ups. Ass high in the air, she completes them, then promptly falls over sprains her ankle. She laments that she may have just ruined her chances by being an immensely uncoordinated nimrod. Commercials.
Back at the elimination ceremony, two sluts and pint-sized chauvinist are on the chopping block. On her own account, Nibblz can only say that she didn't suck that much. Midget Mac basically gives everyone the one-finger salute by blowing off his chance to plead his case. Nibblz wraps up the pageant of humiliation by completing 10 solid push-ups without injuring herself. Imagine that! Then again, what -- if anything -- push-ups have to do with loogie contests, stripper pole vaulting, or whatever else these walking punch lines will do in the coming weeks, I don't know...
It's decision time. Hoopz changes her mind after Brandi C. made a fool of herself (and a mess of her ankle) and picks Nibblz. Nibblz immediately takes this brief moment of grace and manages to be a big old jerk about it, claiming that these shows are more about "pretending to be liked" (reality TV code for not being a giant a-hole) than she previously figured. If the look on Hoopz's face is any indication, she might have rather chosen a halfwit gimp than this jerk.
Finally, Whiteboy chooses who stays and who goes. He proves once and for all that Mac is an irredeemable jackass and chooses Brandi C., crediting her greater mental stability (not acumen, mind you). Brandi pulls out every possible reality show cliché, promising to "step up to the plate and kick butt."
CJ beckons Mac for one last round of nonsense babbling. After he voids the check, Midget Mac claims he still has his pride as he waddles out the door and rambles on about being The Man. Once he's gone, CJ pretends that Hoopz and Whiteboy just made some very tough decisions. It's also worth noting that he recommends the contestants go to sleep since they have a long road ahead of them. To which I say, The herpes ain't gonna spread itself.
Coming up this season: The roommates continues to subject Mr. Boston to physical and mental torture. One of the challenges sees the team members getting really drunk and running around (just a typical Tuesday night, minus their cars). Players stab each other (or effigies, as it were) in the back. And all sorts of other no-clothes-wearin', toilet-sexin', scorpion-eatin', old-Mexican-lady-spittin', Pumkin-hatin', eating-disorder-fakin', teammate-screwin' good times!