Rock on Bret!

by | October 2, 2007 at 10:10 AM | General

Poison singer Bret Michaels

The highly anticipated, slightly stained Rock of Love returned last night on VH1, and after 2 weeks of speculation we finally learned who would win Bret’s heart and rock his world.

The “ladies” (whore is a little too strong this early in the blog) started packing for Cabo and they both made it clear they were ready to fight. The stripper and the sexy troll were whisked away by private jet to the Mexican resort town and when the trio arrived they were greeted by gyrating bikini dancers. These dancers were like catnip to horny Heather and she dove on the chance to dance like Donovan McNabb on a loose ball.

The first dinner with Bret was tense and short and the ladies took the opportunity to sling barbs at one another (Jes is too young, Heather will never give up stripping) and it gave me a chance to fully exhale the breath I began to expire at the beginning of the season. This entire show is redemption for Flavor of Love. During the first and second seasons of that show people claimed it was racist and dangerous and cast the mostly African American women in a bad light. Rock of Love definitively shows white girls are bigger skanks and hoochies than their black counterparts, and this finale brought out the claws in these kittens reminiscent of the fights and vitriol of Flavor of Love’s New York and Deelishus.

Come date time Bret and Heather were ready to buggy… dune buggy. We know from the motocross challenge Bret loves motor sports, so jack assing around in the desert covered in bandanas was right up his banyan tree. Unfortunately the excitement and adrenaline of the airborne sand scooters almost sent our protagonist into a diabetic coma and his insulin shock forced him to turn the wheel over to Heather who promised to drive back to the beach for some much needed glucose. Maybe Heather was going into silicone shock because she ignored the puddle of cold sweat sitting next to her and flew through the dunes with the abandon of a dancer during “Cherry Pie”. Bret and Heather capped off their date with dinner and oral sex, or at least that’s what Heather alluded to when she told Jes his lips were all over her and to remember where they’d been. The best exchange between the hopefuls came when Heather asked, “Can you smell him on me, his scent?” and Jes quickly replied, “I can smell rotten p#ssy”. Brilliant.

Jes got an ocean cruise for her date, maybe THAT’S the fishy smell she was referring to, and I have to say it was far more relaxing and romantic than tooling around the desert looking like a terrorist. I was worried for Jes for two reasons: one, New York and Flav had their final date on a yacht and I worried this was foreshadowing, and two, I worried the date would go so well Bret would pick her and what on God’s green and golden earth is a beautiful, smart 23 year old doing with aging diabetic Bret Michaels? This guy clearly does not take good care of himself and is not regulating his insulin or his relationships well. He almost went into shock twice in 24 hours, so the question is if he can’t keep his sugar in check how will he check on this pink sugar?

Last night’s episode, although there were plenty of barbs, dramatic moments and gallons of sexiness, disappointed me on a deeper level where it promised to deliver. I was told this final episode would highlight Bret’s hair in the pool or in the shower and we would see his goldilocks free from the bounding bandana. These tresses have been the real star of the show, more than any stripper or raw meat or uncomfortable dinner with the parents, and one long distance shot of Bret sans bandana was not enough to quench my eternal fire of curiosity about his hair. Is it a wig? A weave? Extensions? Could it be his real hair, something God cooked up in his follicles to resemble finely spun plastic as a joke? It has the shimmer of doll hair, the life of a pair of old pants and moves with the grace of Wayne Newton in a ballet class. I’m pretty sure Bret is not rocking a full head of blond hair and it’s more likely he won in at a cheap carnival than in the genetic lottery.

In the end Heather whored it up in a dress so lemon yellow it made lemons look white by comparison. There is a test in life and it’s sort of a test of self-awareness and how realistically you view yourself. Take the day you are supposed to look your best, be it prom or your wedding or some formal function where you have the chance to really pull it together. How do you look? Do you look like a radioactive dessert at the Mustang Ranch Sunday buffet? Or do you look sleek, svelte and understated in all the right places? Heather dolled herself up so much she would have gotten picked out of a line up of felonious drag queens, and I’m pretty sure Bret was looking for a pair of balls smuggled up her Wal Mart pageant dress. Jes on the other hand is 23 and cool and smart compared to her graduating class of pole-goers and he would have been a fool to pick her. In the ultimate rock star moment Bret had the stones to admit he was having a hard time deciding so he asked both girls to be his girlfriend. It was a no lose question! If they both said yes he’d have twice the bass to rock his world, if they both said no he could have said he was just kidding and if one said no he would take Jes and make up some reason he wanted to be with her. He picked Jes, the show ended beautifully and hopefully this rock neophyte will come to her senses and end her tour before this rose gets thorned.