I watched last night's episode of Rock of Love, and I have to say, I'm still digging it. Forget about all the drinking, the stripper pole dancing, or any of the normal reality show competition crap: What I learned was that actual physical violence doesn't translate as well as a good round of creative name-calling. Then again, I think watching fake tanned, fake breasted, fake blondes turn on one of their own and refer to her as having "giant clown boobs" is hysterically funny, in a "pot vs. kettle" kind of way. And the retort of saying that her face was "meth-scarred?" Classy.
Last week, I thought the girls looked harsh. This week, they looked way better than the featured rock star/prize/man slut:
Dude, for the love of God, keep the bandanna on! Or the cowboy hat. Heck, even a motorcycle helmet would be an improvement.