October 26, 2007

Step Away from the Botox!!!

Or whatever it is you're doing, Renee Zellweger. In all seriousness, what the hell happened to her? To go from this

(taken last year)

to THIS?

(taken at the Bee Movie premiere in New York City yesterday)

Renee, put down the scissors and for God's sake, eat a sandwich!

Who's Going to Watch This Crap?

White Oprah (Dina Lohan) throws her hat into the ring of reality t.v. beginning on October 30. So be sure to boycott E! for even considering this crap.
Apparently the show will follow the clASSy senior Lohan (who is also executive producer) because "There are so many misconceptions about me and my family. I’m setting the record straight. It’s about empowering women to be successful single mothers. About being in the limelight without compromising motherhood. It’s about what I do, how you can be successful, and be a single mom and fulfilling your kids’ dreams. Working is my sole source of income.”
Successful single mothers? Does this bitch even know the meaning of the word? If my eldest child had been in rehab 3 times in a 12 month period, and all before she turned 21, in addition to stealing a car, running over someone's foot, God knows how many car accidents and inviting every penis in California and Utah to a sleepover, I wouldn't exactly consider myself a successful parent. But maybe I have set my own standards inordinately high.
"It won’t just be following my family around like other shows. It’ll show me cultivating careers, going to soccer practice. I’m a big supporter of domestic violence charities, so they’ll show that. Then they’ll show [”my son”] Cody at soccer practice. Ali going to school and in the studio. It’ll encompass everything. You’ll see me having five business meetings in the city."
Business meetings for what? Exactly what kind of work does this ho do? Cultivating careers? Does that mean robbing your children of their childhoods, putting them to work and getting them addicted to all types of drugs and vices so you don't have to work? Because if so, White Oprah works mighty hard! And why would anyone want to watch a t.v. show with White Oprah going to soccer practice? Who cares? I work full time, cook, clean, do laundry, take my son to soccer and baseball practices, in addition to writing here, and nobody gives a rat's ass!
This bitch is in total denial. I love the attached picture though. It really shows Dina at her best.

Photo Source: DListed

October 24, 2007

Thousands of Dollars of Therapy Are in His Future

Stupid celebrity alert! For the God only knows how many thousandth time, a celebrity finds it impossible to name their poor, beleaguered child a normal, acceptable name.
This time the offender is actress Gretchen Mol who, being C list or maybe a hazy B at best, should fall outside the "crazy celebrity baby name" rule. She and her husband, director Tod Williams, welcomed a bouncing, and sure to be pissed later on, baby boy that they burdened with the name Ptolemy John. Why, Gretchen, why? Did you lose a bet? Did you have to sacrifice your first born to the demons of grade school playground bullies? Because we all know that any kid named Ptolemy is sure to get his ass beat on the first day of school, and every day hereafter, unless he turns into a snotty-nosed playground bully himself.
I'm starting to think there should be an IQ requirement for celebrities that want to have kids. That should take care of at least half of them. And for the remaining half, they should be forced to submit to a harsh interview, along with a questionnaire. Something along the lines of
"Which name do you give your child?
(a) Apple
(b) Audioslave
(c) Pilot
(d) Zoltan
(e) Pirate
(f) Are they taken? I love them all!"
Anyone answering that question, period, is immediately denied parenthood. Problem solved.
Photo Source: DListed

Run, Bob, Run!

Hot on the campaign trail for that elusive Oscar, that elusive respect and that elusive sanity, Tommy Boy is tripping the light fantastic in Rome, promoting his new flick, Lions for Lambs, with director Robert Redford.

Looks like Tommy Boy's special brand of crazy fug is starting to rub off on Redford. Run, Bob! Save yourself! Is this what working with Tommy Boy does to you? Ages you overnight? Well, look at Zombie Bride and there's your answer.

And what the hell is happening to Tommy Boy? I mean, a decade ago he was decent enough looking. Okay, fine. He was nice looking in A Few Good Men and Jerry Maguire and now I feel the need to bleach out my eyeballs and flog myself. But time and/or crazy is catching up with him. Why is he so shiny? Does he really sweat that much? Is he suffering from hot flashes? And what is going on with his nose? Are those his real ears? Like the kind every self-respecting alien on his planet sport? They would make Spock and Legolas green with envy.

And why is "a horse is a horse of course of course, but nobody can talk to a horse of course . . ." going through my head?
Photo Source: Perez Hilton

Why Do All Fake Relationships Get Their Start in Italy?

First, it was Tommy Boy showcasing his show pony (a/k/a Zombie Bride) to the world in Rome. He of the maniacal grin, she of the dead eyes. Ah, memories.

Now, Jakey G. and Reese are officially "outing" their relationsham to the public on their so-called Roman Holiday.

Whatever. This relationship is about as real as Posh's breasts. Fake, fake, fake.

Don't get me wrong - - I like Jakey G. He's a good actor, he seems fairly low key and I could care less what his preference is in his private life. But the studios do. The producers do. The investors do. And the teen girls and bored housewives do.

Reese and Jakey have a movie that just came out - - Rendition - - to less than stellar reviews. It barely made a ripple at the box office this weekend. Not exactly what the studio thought when the movie was getting advance publicity. With a mid to late October release date, this movie was obviously originally thought to be Oscar material. Not according to early reviews.

So what's a studio to do? Easy. Remember those rumors about Reese and Jakey supposedly seeing each other during the filming, with Reese comforting herself over her failed marriage on Jakey's strong shoulder? Recycle that story and get lots of positive buzz by proclaiming them a couple. Better yet, have the first official picture of them together as a couple, holding hands and "canoodling", in one of the most romantic of romantic cities, Rome. If people buy it, if they are interested in Reese and Jakey as a couple, surely they will run to the theater to see them in Rendition. Cha-ching!

So far, the plan seems to be working - - at least on those far less pessimistic than me. Handfuls of bloggers are already swooning and squealing about new couple Jakey and Reese. Delighted and thrilled over the "candid" pics of them holding hands and strolling through Rome, unable to see a PR coupe for what it is, and not smelling the Cruise-perfected stench from here.

People, please. Mark my words. As soon as Rendition has run its course and is leaving theaters, Reese and Jakey will "break up" but "remain the best of friends". It's only a matter of time.

October 23, 2007

Kid Rock is All Sorts of Classy

Not that I expected much, from someone who did marry Pam Anderson, and who got into a mini-brawl with Pam's first rocker hubby, Tommy Lee, over Pam and Rock and Pam split. No, it doesn't make sense to me either. It's like fighting over a dirty, used up old sock in WalMart, when there are plenty of brand new socks to be had.

Anyhow, old Kid raised his special brand of classy to a new level by getting into a smackdown at Waffle House. Yep, that's right - - the Awful Waffle. The yellow roofed mecca with the best restaurant coffee out there and with food that will suck the alcohol right out of your system at 2 a.m. when you're drunk and need something in your stomach to keep the world from spinning. Ah, Waffle House.

So it seems like Kid and his entourage hit a Waffle House in my hometown of Atlanta this past Sunday morning - - 5:15 a.m. to be exact. Apparently a woman that was with Kid and his entourage was recognized by a Waffle House patron and some comments were made. Unsurprisingly, the words turned to punches. Unsurprising because this was a 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning - - what kind of people do you expect to see at a Waffle House at 5 a.m. on a Sunday? Not the kind getting ready for church.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying a smackdown at Waffle House isn't called for. When you get raisin toast instead of white or wheat . . . or when one lonely person is sitting at a prized booth rather the counter, a smackdown could be considered in order. But fighting over some groupie that you're going to leave by the time you get to Birmingham? Bitch, please.

So Kid and five members of his group were charged with misdemeanors for simple battery, while the patron was charged with a felony count of second degree criminal damage to property - - the window he broke.

Good old Kid posted bond at 5 p.m. and, ever the rock star, signed autographs as he left the DeKalb County pokey. Ah, the life of a cowboy rock star.
Photo Source: The Smoking Gun

October 19, 2007

Jessica Seinfeld in Boiling Water

Just a mere week or so after a fawning appearance on Oprah, complete with Mrs. Seinfeld sending Oprah $20 grand worth of shoes in appreciation, hawking her new cookbook, Deceptively Delicious, which currently sits atop the bestseller list, Mrs. Seinfeld is being accused of plagiarizing the earlier published The Sneaky Chef. For non-Oprah watchers out there, both cookbooks are essentially a how-to guide on tricking kids (or picky spouses) to eat healthy foods by sneaking them into "regular" foods. Nothing terribly litigious there. But this is where Mrs. Seinfeld runs into trouble.

Per the N.Y. Daily News:

But chef and baby-products mogul Missy Chase Lapine came out in April with a
book, “The Sneaky Chef: Simple Strategies for Hiding Healthy Foods in Kids’
Favorite Meals.” Lapine baked her spinach brownies with Al Roker on the “Today” show; Seinfeld shared her spinach brownies with Oprah on that show last week.
Mothers on Oprah.com and parenting sites have noted similarities after perusing the puree-spattered pages of both. Some wondered whether the wealthy Seinfeld didn’t
have cooks who helped cook up her recipes.
Seinfeld writes about having an epiphany that, “While I was cooking dinner, pureeing butternut squash for the baby and making mac and cheese for the rest of us, I had the crazy idea of stirring a little of the puree into the macaroni. … The colors matched -you couldn’t really see the squash in there -and the texture was
Lapine, who founded the Baby Spa natural products line, writes: “If
you want to hide something in macaroni and cheese, you have to match the color
of the dish. You could easily introduce white bean puree in the mac and
Seinfeld and Lapine both have recipes for mashed potatoes with
hidden cauliflower, grilled cheese with secret sweet potatoes, green eggs made
with pureed baby spinach, and carrot-laced tacos.
Lapine stayed hidden herself when we called, but Craig Herman, an executive at her publisher, Running Press, said ominously: “I won’t be able to comment until next week.”

Several things come to mind here. First, did you know that Jessica Seinfeld was a chef? I didn't. Did you know she was qualified to write a cookbook? I didn't. I've come up with some inventive things too, but I don't fool myself to think that I could write a book about them and that people would buy it, much less become a bestseller. Which leads me to my next point. Would anyone have given a rat's ass, much less offered to publish Jessica's book, if she wasn't Mrs. Jerry Seinfeld? Come now. And that leads me to my third point. Jerry Seinfeld is worth more money than my dazed little brain can comprehend. Somehow I don't picture Jessica slaving away in the kitchen. Or taking care of the couple's three children herself. No, she definitely seems more of the "supervisor" type to me.

And sending Oprah $20,000 worth of shoes? Oprah, who is probably worth more than Jerry Seinfeld . . . to whom $20,000 is probably like a dollar to me. Call me crass but wouldn't a lovely note, maybe with a donation to Oprah's favorite charity, have sufficed . . . and been more practical?

Photo Source: Cele/bitchy

Tommy Boy, Unauthorized

It's coming! It's coming! Finally, after more than a year delay, and months of speculation as to whether or not Tommy Boy and his Scieno goons somehow got to dirt-disher Andrew Morton, Amazon has Morton's long-awaited and sure-to-send-Camp-Cruise-into-spasms-of-fright- very unauthorized biography on pre-order! Due to be released on January 15 (can barely stand the wait), St. Martin's Press is hyping that Morton "uncovers the true story of the biggest celebrity of our age". I don't hold my breath that Morton will include copies of the beard contracts that Nicole and Zombie Bride signed, but I do think Morton will write about all types of oddities that Tommy Boy has. Which will be fun reading in and of itself.

But the real reason I am waiting for this book is to see Tommy Boy lose it. Kick in to full on diva behavior. Jump on his Huffy bike and ride all over Andrew Morton. After all, Morton is attempting to piss all over his oh-so-hetero parade. And I cannot wait for Andrew Morton, who is obviously much more intelligent than Tommy Boy, more articulate and probably a lot quicker on his feet, to give the Cruister a proper British smackdown. Matt Lauer was considerate when Tommy Boy was attempting his Scieno-voo-doo mind control on him, but my gut tells me that Andrew Morton can hold his own and will not hesitate to put the pint-sized psychiatry loathing loony in his proper place. CAN'T. WAIT.

In case you feel even a shred of sympathy for the Cruister, don't forget Tommy Boy is the superstar who showed up, all smiles, at the Packer funeral in Australia with Zombie Bride, and who allegedly couldn't refrain from partaking in some seriously bad-taste PDA during the service. The superstar who showed up, all smiles, at Princess Diana's funeral in London. Let's see how long he smiles during his own funeral.

October 18, 2007

The Cruise PR Machine Working on the Holmeses

According to the British mag Star (who is obviously getting some under the table dough from the Mini Messiah), the Zombie Bride is taking steps to repair her relationship with surely-estranged papa Martin. By inviting him to visit her in Germany. Because, you know, inviting him to L.A., or taking time out of your oh-so-busy shopping and preening and posing schedule to fly home to Toledo, is so taxing.

Papa Martin visited Berlin earlier this month, probably seeing Suri the Miracle Baby in person for the first time and, in all likelihood, avoiding the Valkyrie/Rubicon/or whatever-the-movie-is-called-this-month set like the plague, should he set eyes on his diminutive son-in-law and immediately turn to stone. Star also claims that Mama Kathy accompanied Papa Martin, along with the Zombie Bride's brother, Martin Jr., although no photos of Martin Jr. (who also, significantly, did not attend her overly Scieno faux wedding ceremony last year) were taken during this supposed family reunion.

Papa Martin allegedly came home raving about how happy Zombie Bride is (because everyone knows that sallow skin and sunken eyes are the trademark of true inner happiness), and how he couldn't have been happier to spend time with the shell of a person who used to be his daughter and her monkey-on-crack hubby. Riiiiiiight. I doubt they spent any time together, as the Holmes family are SPs (suppressive persons), and if they did, doubtless it was first occasion they have ever spent time together and will undoubtedly be the last.

Papa Martin also claimed that Suri is much prettier (amazing?) in person than she appears in pictures. This I believe. Not because Suri is such a looker. But because Papa Martin has probably never seen Suri personally before.

Sad, sad.

Again, people. Five year contract. Extra money for Zombie Bride for each Scieno-tot she pops out. Since her career appears to be in the crapper, look for a pregnancy announcement any day.

Britney Suspended

Her visitation rights, anyhow. And I'm certain her poor children are rejoicing.

According to TMZ, the pop tart lost visitation with her children "until she complies with court orders". Ha! Like that's going to happen! Doesn't the court know who she is? She is a STAR, after all.

The order by L.A. County Commissioner Scott Gordon came after K-Fed's lawyer, Mark Vincent Kaplan, went to court yesterday for an emergency hearing. The order reads, "Petitioner's (Britney's) visitation with the minor children is suspended pending Petitioner's compliance with the court orders." Brit's next shot at getting the kids is October 26, when she's been ordered back to court."

In other words, Brit couldn't be bothered to provide the drug testing facility with her contact information so they could perform random tests on her. Well, duh! How dense are these people? I know where to find her. Starbucks. The corner gas station. McDonald's. Taco Bell. I see pictures of her there every day. Wait right in the drive-thru line and I guarantee Brit will tool by.

Photo Source: DListed

Lohan Accused of Being a Homewrecker, Take Two

Photo Source: PopSugar
Or, Lohan likes to screw other women's men.

Honestly, is there a rehab facility that Lohan's vajajay can enter? Because I think it has serious addiction problems.

Barely a week out of rehab in Utah comes word that Lohan's newest boy toy was (unsurprisingly) engaged when he entered the luxurious Cirque Lodge and sent his fiancee a "Dear John" text after meeting Lohan.

Bree Tierney spilled all to the National Enquirer about her former fiance, professional snowboarder Riley Giles, whom she had lived with for three years prior to the Lohan infestation.

Bree claimed to have met Lohan "numerous" times while visiting Giles in rehab, where he went to "get his life together and in the process meets Lindsay and ruins my life.” She suspected something was up when Lohan accompanied Giles on one of those meetings and "she comes over and sits next to me, being overly nice. She was complimenting me on my hair and trying to be my friend. It didn’t seem sincere at all.”

After that, Bree got her harsh text message and Giles "finally confessed to me that he had sex with Lindsay in one of the stairwells at Cirque — that was it, we were done.”

Wow, Lohan isn't very discriminate, is she? She supposedly had sex with some married guy in the bathrooms at Cirque, now we hear she corrupted the stairwells as well. I guess it's fairly safe to assume that if you are a married or engaged man and run across Lohan in a public bathroom or stairwell, she will have sex with you.

Lohan is like the new Paris Hilton plague. I'm just waiting for the videotape.

October 17, 2007

Britney Possibly the Dumbest Person on the Planet

It's saying quite a lot to suggest that someone holds the stupidity card over Paris, Lindsay, Nicole, et al., but nobody can claim that Britney is half-assing screwing up her life.

Us Weekly is reporting that after her October 11 appearance in court (where she showed up late, dressed in jeans and toting that ever-present Starbucks cup, I'm sure), she was behaving like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. Per the glossy, Ms. Spears headed over to Neiman Marcus, where she commandeered a dressing room reserved for the handicapped. (Hey, I don't think many would argue that Brit isn't mentally and emotionally handicapped). After trying on a slew of dresses, Brit informed her sure-to-be-beleaguered assistant that she wanted her dog London. When she learned that the poor pooch was in Malibu, she exclaimed "Fuck that. That will take us an hour to drive there. Can't we have the dog messengered over?" Messengering a dog? Girlfriend really is out of touch with reality.

To further drive home the fact that B.S. is a diva divine, she began talking smack about L.A. commissioner Scott M. Gordon, whose courtroom she had been a guest in earlier. "I hate my judge," said the ever verbal Brit. "He is so mean. Just an old fart. He told me I was being catty with him, but he was being catty with me and paid me no respect at all."

Brit catty? Never!

And since when are judges required to pay non-law abiding citizens any respect? Did Brit show the judge respect when she showed up late in his courtroom, to a hearing she requested?

Britney's right. If it wasn't for spoiled, self-centered celebs like her, that judge would be golfing instead of sitting at the bench.

Pam Anderson Passes a Marital Milestone

For all you naysayers who claimed it wouldn't last, isn't Pam Anderson having the last laugh with you? She and Paris porn co-star Rick Salomon have been blissfully wed for an entire week now.
The new (and future ex) Mrs. Salomon told OK! magazine, following her October 6 Vegas nuptials, "I am finally fulfilled in my life in every area. I'm having the best time in my life." Shades of Elizabeth Taylor, anyone?
For anyone that's truly interested, Pam and Rick married at The Mirage, after Rachel Ashwell, of Shabby Chic fame, transformed the place with white roses, balloons and many candles. Despite the fact that this is Pam's third trip down the aisle (as well as Rick's), this is the first time she actually wore something other than a bikini. So maybe third time's the charm.
Photo Source: OK! magazine

October 14, 2007

Paul McCartney is So Screwed

Photo Source: LaineyGossip.com

In case you thought that the Mills-McCartney divorce train was merrily chugging on its way, or even finalized, think again. One thing that can definitely be said for Heather Mills is that she is a golddigging bitch. And I'm being nice.

Last week, she and Macca were expected to finalize their divorce agreement; he reportedly was going to generously give her 60 million pounds (which is more than $120 mil, in American dollars). Not a bad settlement for less than four years of not-so wedded bliss. Keep in mind that doesn't include support for their daughter. All Mega-Bitch has to do to get that offer is promise not to publicly discuss their private affairs.

Guess who had a problem with that?

Mega-Bitch apparently wants her million pounds settlement and the right to speak too. On talk shows, in print . . . anywhere and everywhere that will ring up more dollars and cents for the insatiable demon known as Heather Mills.

Basically, Paul McCartney is screwed. He has to pay Mega-Bitch at least $60 million pounds, no matter what. If he wants her to keep her trap shut, it will cost him even more.

My guess is that Mega-Bitch will probably collect her original goal - - $150 million pounds - - because Paul is too tired of dealing with her evil (not to mention that he might have a few skeletons in the closet he wishes to hide).

October 4, 2007

Charlie Sheen Loves to Email

Photo Source: PopSugar

I guess we all knew that it was only a matter of time before things really started getting down and dirty in the ongoing Denise Richards/Charlie Sheen battle, and Denise has upped the ante. She filed copies of lovely emails that Charlie sent her - - emails that I'm sure she will look back upon fondly and love to share with their daughters.

Charlie, in a matter of speaking, fired back on Denise's recent re-allegations and court filings. The oh-so-eloquent Mr. Sheen wrote, among other things, that his ex-wife is a "sad, jobless pig", to "go cry to your bald mom" and that Denise doesn't "get a fucking dime". Wow. I can't imagine why these two divorced. BTW, in case you're not in the know, Denise's mom has cancer and is currently undergoing chemo, so the "bald mom" bit is as cruel as it seems.

Seriously, this ranks right up there in intelligence, along with sending a threatening email to your IT guy at the office. Duh.

October 3, 2007

Sex and the City: The Movie

Photo Source: PopSugar and INF Daily

Is anyone going to see this? I'm curious, not because I don't think there's a built-in audience, although I think the demand would have been greater maybe a decade ago. Okay, I jest. Maybe four years ago, when the series wrapped up. I'm curious because so many pictures have been slipped, leaked, thrust down the media's throat, whatever, that it almost seems pointless to spend the ten bucks to go see the darn thing.

Anyhow, apparently Carrie and Big are getting married. You think it's a mistake too? Yeah, it'll never last. So they shot the wedding scenes at St. Patrick's Cathedral in NYC, although Big himself (Chris Noth) wasn't seen that day. Interesting. Carrie being Carrie, i.e., the biggest fashion blunder to ever walk the earth, much less New York City, looks like a cross between Big Blue Bird and the Kleenex Queen. Honestly, did a box of tissues throw up on her? Was the bust inspired by a huge pair of bird wings, or by Dolly Parton? Did a bright blue bird get caught in that veil-y confection in her hair? I find it hard to believe that Carrie could break out in a rash and hyperventilate over putting on the shlocky wedding dress when she was engaged to Aidan, which was cheesey, sure but not nearly as gaudy and tack-ay as this mess is. And could Sarah Jessica Parker not eat a Fatburger or something? The bones sticking out of her chest are very distracting. And is this movie supposed to take place like 30 years in the future, because Carrie looks about 75 in these pictures.

As a little aside, why am I not surprised that Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha are wearing the brightest, most unflattering bridesmaid dresses ever? This is what you do to your enemies, not your closest friends.

Photos: INF Daily

(C)Rock of Love: And We Have a Winner!

So the final episode of Bret Michael's very public search for his rock princess begins exactly where it left off the week before - - the Terrible Two packing up for Cabo. Whoo hoo!

It's immediately noticeable that Heather seems way more interested in going than Jes does - - hmmm. Heather does one of her trademark "look at me" moves, when Bret comes out of his red-doored BMB bedroom.

So Bret and his "girls" leave the ROL pad, and VH-1 oh-so-helpfully shows us with a map exactly where Cabo San Lucas is (because obviously their target audience has no idea).

Thank you, VH-1, for clarifying that Cabo San Lucas is actually on the eastern side of the black and red skulled island.

So the threesome arrives at their Mexican resort and this is one thing that really bugs me with reality shows or movies. Never in my life, and I mean never, not even on my honeymoon, have I ever arrived at a resort with people dancing, and someone waiting to hand me a drink. WTH? Of course, when big rock star Bret and his two hoochie mamas arrive, there is full-on dancing and the margaritas are a-waitin'.

Heather immediately spots a hot chick in the dancing quartet, points her out to Bret, along with a statement that is bleeped out. Nice.

Bret, as usual, is miffed as to "whassa goin' on".

He doesn't understand why, when he's there with Heather and Jes, Heather is paying more attention to one of the other women there. Bret has a hard time understanding how he can be paying attention to Heather, who is paying attention to some dancer chick, who Bret shouldn't be paying attention to. All pretty funny and not more than just a little hypocritical since Bret has been juggling up to 20 women at one time for the last few months. But I digress.

The girls go to their shared hotel room, while Bret ambles off to I'm certain some red-themed BMB room. It's funny that they put Jes and Heather together. Do they not have the budget for them each to have their own room, or are they hoping for some Jerry Springer-inspired green room battle to take place? You would think it's the former, but hope for the latter.

In the incredibly orange/peach/salmon-y room, clothes are laid out for both "girls". Heather is thrilled when she sees booty shorts because they are so her. I think the fact that all the clothing says "ME" on it is also very fitting.

Bret has a lovely "welcome to Cabo" dinner planned, but the "girls" insist on upsetting the apple cart by having a staring contest. Heather is the clear winner because, try as she might, Jes still looks sweet. Bret tries to break the contest up by noting "there's bread" on the table and crunching into a piece, but the "girls" are deadly serious about getting down to business. The business being winning Bret's aging hand and ass.

After chewing, Bret confronts Heather about her bisexuality possibilities. Unlike about 99% of other men I have known, Bret appears disappointed about the possibility.

Heather denies that she's a lesbian and claims she's strictly dickly. She does admit though that she's a congratulator, not a hater. Meaning if she sees a hot chick, she'll own up to it and even compliment her on her rack! Wow, that Heather, such a sport. Jes, naturally, thinks that Heather would have absolutely no issues having an open relationship and inviting another woman to join in because she's a stripper and all.

Heather goes on the offensive and states to Bret, Jes and the ROL-watching world that Jes is too young for Bret. Duh! Heather asks Jes if she really wants kids at her age. Very good point, Heather, and I think you should have asked Bret the same question.

Jes, however, is not be outdone and quickly brings Heather's age and chosen occupation into the conversation. Good move, Jes, because Heather off-camera does her typical "why does everyone bring up the fact that I'm a stripper" meltdown off camera? Um, Heather, maybe because you are a stripper?

Heather claims that her stripping days are over (although show her a pole and I betcha girlfriend would be all over it). She credits Bret for saving her from the cruel, heartless life of showing your breasts to absolute strangers. Okay, no she didn't, but she did say that she wasn't going back because she met Bret. Hmmmm, I feel pressure mounting.

Dinner ends, and I'm sure none too soon since no one appeared to be eating. Heather must mean business because this is the first time she hasn't chowed down the entire series.

The "girls" are lounging by the pool (such is the life of a ROL hoochie mama) when Bret's ROL note arrives. Jes has already informed us off-camera that she hopes to get the first date and spend some real time with Bret, so we pretty much know that she has jinxed herself into the second date. Heather is thrilled that she gets first dibs with old B.M. and makes sure Jes knows it. Frankly, I think Jes lucked out here - - she gets to spend the day in luxurious privacy and silence.

Bret has planned some dune buggy riding with Heather - - not exactly the most intimate of dates, or giving Bret the time he needs to really get to know her, as he stated earlier. That Bret, master of confusion and manipulation.

So he and Heather jump in a buggy and hit the dirt. All is going well until Bret informs us off camera that his diabetes ("dia-BEE-tus" for all you not in the know) is kicking in, what with the weeks of partying and drinking and not eating much, or probably sleeping much. He's not feeling well and thinks that eating will help his blood sugar. Well, duh! I'm not a diabetic, but I know this. If Bret's been suffering from dia-BEE-tus for years, wouldn't he keep like a candy bar or power bar or something on him for exactly these type of emergencies? But I guess that would take away from the drama that's unfolding in the World of Bret Michaels.

So he suggets to Heather that they eat something. Doesn't tell her that he's not feeling well, doesn't say his blood sugar is dropping or anything like that. Heather, quite naturally, isn't interested in the drama that is Bret Michaels, she wants to drive the dune buggy. And who can blame her? So Bret, being the sport and "survivor" that he is, gallantly stops his bitching and crying about his dia-BEE-tus long enough for Heather to take the wheel and show Bret how a man really drives a dune buggy in Mexico. Run for the border, Heather! Bret, quite naturally, claims for like the 327nd time during the series that he thinks he's going to die. And he clarifies for us in case we didn't get it that he means that very sincerely and not just figuratively. Nice drama queen moves, Bret.

So finally they make their way over to a picnic set out for them and nosh on some watermelon because, damn the Corona after some hardcore racing, break out the melon! Then they do some face sucking and walk together on the beach, showing us that Heather prefers G-string bathing suits.

So this part of their date is over, and Heather returns to the shared room to prepare for her evening dinner with Bret (WHAT? Didn't they just eat? How many times do people eat per day at ROL anyway?) and taunt Jes. If Jes was smart, she spent her afternoon getting a massage from a muscly man named Mario. Heather tells Jes that she had the best date on the planet (which planet? Animal Planet?), causing Jes to chuckle. Jes really is cute. Jes tells Heather that she hopes Heather enjoys her date that night because she won't be anything more to Bret than an eff-buddy. Ouch! Jes also knocks Heather's carefully chosen outfit, telling her it screams stripper. Come now, Jes, anything less than that would disappoint. Heather retorts with a slam against Jes' outfit the previous night, when Jes came to a "five star dinner" (which nobody ate, but who's counting) dressed in a skanky mini-skirt. Give one to Heather. Jes comes back at her with "stripper ass bitch!" Hee.

So Bret and Heather get down to dinner, amid lanterns and tiki torches and tons of pillows. Bret begins explaining to Heather their bond - - that they bonded on a party level. Can Bret bond any other way? He wonders if they can be anything other than party friends. He also worries about what Heather will do all day while he's performing, touring, etc. Well, genius, what has she been doing for the last several months? Yeah, she'll probably keep doing that.

Heather cuts him off (thankfully) with "I'm in love with you, Bret." Whoa, she says that just like a stripper whose been paid with some really good Mexican pot. And does she ever have a lot of blue eyeshadow on.

Bret responds to Heather with a none-too-promising "For real? I don't know what else to say." That can't be good, but to Heather, any challenge is a good one. They start sucking face again and Bret quickly suggests that they go his room. They do, and we are mercifully spared from anything other than Heather climbing on Bret and Bret whimpering "you are so sexy." Ugh.

Flash forward to the next morning, where Heather is sporting some seriously limp hair (WTH?) and Bret is sporting the ever-present bandana on his head. Does that thing EVER come off? Quite the gentleman, he practically pushes Heather out the door because he's got to get ready for his date with Jes.

Jes is eating breakfast by the pool and Heather saunters up, in her icy blue "sundress" and beat down hair. Heather quickly informs Jes that her night with Bret was "amazing" and that she really needs to shower but doesn't want to scrub Bret's odor off her. Ewwwww. Can we say "too much information"?

Heather continues her verbal assault on Jes, even as Jes leaves their shared hotel room, to meet up with Bret. "When you kiss him, you'll be licking me!" she reminds Jes, as Jes heads out the door. I don't know about Jes, but that would be enough to make me call in sick. And in case we haven't heard "Nothin' But a Good Time" enough this season, Heather treats us to her rendition of it, singing and dancing around in her booty shorts. She then says "sloppy seconds, baby" which makes no sense, seeing as how both Jes and Lacey appear to have gotten Bret to give up the booty prior to Heather.

So Jes meets up with Bret, in their matching blue bandanas, and despite laying quite a kiss on him, she can only think about Heather's mouth being where hers is now. Ewwwww. Bret informs Jes that he's taking her on an afternoon cruise aboard a yacht. I'm starting to think that Heather got the short end of the stick in this deal. Bret so poetically tells us that if he can't win Jes' heart with a yacht, nothing will do it. Boy, Bret sure is quick to sell himself short, isn't he? If a yacht will win Jes over, do you really want her? But, no matter. This is (C)Rock of Love.

So Bret and Jes cruise the waterways, kiss and cuddle, neither one mussing or losing their bandana. Maybe they are a perfect couple.

So they return from their Gilligan's Island three hour cruise, and prep for dinner. Bret and his bandana are waiting at some deserted looking outdoor restaurant and he takes care to inform us that his dia-BEE-tus is acting up again and he really feels poorly. What a shocker.

So when Jes appears for her dinner date, the ever-romantic Bret shows her his insulin shot and informs her that if he should go into a diabetic coma, she must ram that shot into his ass pronto. I don't know about Jes, but isn't that what all women want to hear during a romantic dinner? Screw a proposal, let's talk about shoving things up your ass.

So Jes gets all weepy and begins crying. To Bret, Jes' crying is a sign that she's finally let her guard down. Let's all remember, shall we, that this is also the man who felt that Brandi M.'s gurgled "I love you" in between retching in the toilet was one of the most touching moments of his life. So Bret and Jes suck face. Did they even eat dinner? And if Bret's dia-BEE-tus is acting up, why does he appear to still be drinking?

Bret and Jes head back to Bret's hotel room, which seems to have seen quite a bit of action in the last 24 hours. I hope the maids have changed the sheets.

The outside jacuzzi is all romantic-ed up, with candles everywhere. Jes drops trou and heads for the water.

Off camera, Bret informs us that it was the perfect ending to the perfect day, minus the insulin shock he very nearly went into. Such a poet.

Back to L.A. and it's elimination time. Bret is deep in thought in his BMB red room, with the girls' passes stuck to the wall. Bret informs us that this a decision he must make on his own, so Big John must leave. Heather is getting herself ready for the ultimate showdown and her hair truly scales new heights for this last episode. Two cans of Aqua Net, at least. Jes, meanwhile, looks down in the dumps and her hair is strangely limp and miserable. The girls wait at the podium, Heather in her trashtastic Barbie yellow dress and massively teased hair, and Jes, in a pretty black dress but looking as though she's going to her own funeral.

Bret and his bandana approach and they both inform the girls that his decision was very hard (but I'm sure it turned him on because pretty much everything else does). Off camera, Bret and his bandana inform us that neither could make up their minds about who to choose, so a brilliant idea popped into Bret's little blonde head. How about both of them? He asks Heather if she would accept him, along with Jes, and a voiceover says "I'd love to". I'm already calling B.S. on this!! Jes immediately says no. In a voiceover, Bret and his bandana inform us that this was some type of test and apparently Heather failed. Bret and his bandana call Heather down from her spot and inform her that she's not the girl he's looking for. Heather looks as though she's going to rip every piece of his weave out of his head and shove it down his throat. Who needs to know how to stick an insulin injection into Bret's ass now? Without a word or a hug, Heather turns on her heel and rides her Huffy bike on outta the ROL house. Go, Heather! Bret and his bandana are miffed as to why Heather would leave that way. Bret and his bandana are douches.

Heather is pissed. And by pissed, I mean PISSED. In the limo, she tells the camera that she gave Bret her heart and he took advantage. She also informs everyone that Bret is America's Asshole for doing this to her. I like it, it has a nice ring.

Back at the ROL house, Bret and his bandana ask Jes to step down. Jes looks like she's heading to her executioner. Oh yeah, I can feel the love from her. Bret and his bandana thank Jes for being so supportive of his dia-BEE-tus (I guess listening to how to shove something in Bret's ass and getting teary over it count as "supportive"), "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" begins playing and Jes and Bret share a kiss.

End of show! What to do on Sundays now? And will Jes, Bret and his bandana really last more than a week? Exactly how much of the ozone did Heather and her Aqua Net destroy?