A confession and an intervention.

I typically shy away from reality TV. Survivor? Nope. The Bachelor? Eh. I’m just not interested.


I have a strange fascination with Rock of Love With Bret Michaels and Rock of Love: Charm School, where none other than Sharon Osborne tries to teach the Rock of Love rejects some manners.

Charm School just finished up, and last night was the first episode of the next season of Rock of Love. After careful consideration, I have come to an important conclusion.

Bret Michaels better be in on the joke. If not? Boy needs an intervention.
But Cha Cha, why?

Lemme tell you. No man in his right mind would really, truly think that he’s going to find love on a reality show, much less a reality show where – I’m sorry, but it’s true – women of questionable character try to outwhore themselves to win his affections.

The catfights are entertaining. But the contestants?
Bret recognized this contestant from her, uh, film career.

I really wonder what this show would be like if they threw in some normal women. Make it half crazy, dirty girls, and half normal, clean girls. The strippers versus the librarians. What would happen? Would the dirty girls play the nice girls and trick Bret into eliminating them? Or would the nice girls use their collective brain power to show that smart is sexy?

The world will never know.

And the winner of Rock of Love Charm School, the winner of $100,000 and the praises of Sharon Osborne? She’s lovely, and got rid of her bad blond dye job. And she earned Sharon’s praises for saying she was going to use her prize money for … a boob job. She has no big plans, no dreams, no crazy ideas about using the money for tuition or starting a business. She’s getting boobs.

I think part of why this show makes me crazy is that I fear that somehow, some way, the dating scene will end up like this when I eventually make my way back into the fray. What about normal girls like me? I was a fucking Mathlete and I know the Dewey Decimal System. If that’s not sexy … well, then, I’m screwed. But not in the way you want to get screwed. You know.

So, uh, Bret? I hope this show is really reviving your music career. Because every time you tell some drunken “model / actress” that you’re sure you’re going to find true love among these ruins of womanhood? I die a little. Just like your street cred.
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