Tough, Cranky, Bitchy Love

Ladies and gentlemen, I have spent the last two days on, watching season 1 of Tough Love. Why? Morbid curiosity, masochism, and a deep and abiding love for trashy reality tv shows. I have been indicted for loving reality tv ever since season 1 of The Real World. I am an habitual voyeur, at best being a student of the human condition, at worst being someone who just really loves to watch skanks rip out each other’s hair extensions. I also watch PBS and read a lot. I tell myself that they cancel each other out.

I didn’t immediately seek out episodes of Tough Love because it just didn’t seem to hold a candle to, say, an ex-stripper sliding down a pole to hit the floor in a Chinese split (seen on For The Love of Ray J). There was also some little part of me that knew watching Tough Love would piss me off. It’s a similar feeling to when one has to place a service call to Comcast or, God help you, Dell.

The premise of Tough Love is that a group of women who are attractive but seem unable to find fulfilling relationships move into a house for a sort of dating boot camp with a matchmaker who bears a striking resemblance to Fred Savage. He tells things as they are, often with the help of a panel of straight-talking men, his mother and, in one case, electro shock devices. Anyone with half a brain will have these women pegged and categorized ten minutes into the first show: there’s the career woman, the tough gym rat, the gold digger, and the stripper. To make our lives easy, the stripper even admits to having daddy issues which lead her to constantly seek male validation. Please to enjoy some choice male quotes.

Episode 1: “You’re Smiling And Approachable!”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure there’s something to the great dating theory that smiling makes people more attractive and confidence is sexy. I just don’t subscribe to the dating show theory that women should do everything in their power to appear to be giant balls of fluffy, non-challenging cotton candy just because someone in the room happens to have testicles. In fact, my logic tells me that someone who actually HAS testicles would like someone who doesn’t feel the need to behave like a benign pageant contestant. I should alsopoint out that I am single and have a cat, thus I am clearly defective, unlovable, insane, and nothing I say should be taken seriously, according to Public Domain Fred Savage.

Episode 2: “I don’t ask girls what their dreams are unless I’m really interested.”
I’ll give you a clue, Scooby. Our dreams are to be referred to as women, not girls. Not even Public Domain Fred Savage got the memo on this one. He repeatedly refers to the women on the show as “the girls.” I’m not a feminazi; I would have accepted “the ladies,” but “the girls”? Sorry, P.D. Fred Savage, I must question how well you know women.

Episode 3: “Her breasts are too big to be sexy.”
Allow me to translate: “I say things like this so women will think I’m highly-evolved and will have sex with me.”

Episode 3: “A man isn’t capable of being truly compassionate until he has a child.”
No word on who the hell is being stupid enough to have a child with someone who hasn’t yet displayed compassion, but I know it happens. I’ve seen Maury.

Episode 4: “She wasn’t difficult…she was easy.”
Oh, well. Thank GOD Taylor finally realized that she has to be blindly non-challenging. God forbid she disagree with anything her date says or present herself as anything but a warm, maternal dick cozy. “Really? I ALSO don’t think the Holocaust happened! We have SO MUCH in common!”

Episode 5: “You’re going to get raped.”
I feel for Arian. She’s had a rough time with guys and it sounds like she was named by white supremacists. Thus, when Public Domain Fred Savage tells her that he fears that she will get raped by acting slutty, I understand her outrage. Did she overreact by knocking over some lights? Maybe. Should a man who is a professional matchmaker know better than to use the dreaded “r word?” Yes. No matter how you phrase the sentiment “I fear that you will get raped,” it sounds a lot like “if you got raped, you’d probably have deserved it.” Say “I fear that, by acting this way, men may think you’re a good person to try and take advantage of” if you must. See? I am the least diplomatic person on Earth and I just rephrased that for you. I will be eagerly awaiting a thank you card from your non-kicked scrotum.

Episode 6: “Cute or Crazy.”
Public Domain Fred Savage puts the ladies on a mock game show, where an audience of men votes on whether the ladies’ quirks are cute or crazy. I’m not saying that owning five different tiaras shouldn’t set off the proverbial lights and sirens. I’m just saying “judge not, lest you be judged.” As the audience of men held up their paddles reading “cute” or “crazy,” I watched, picturing various men burying neighbors in the crawl space, keeping condoms in the fridge, or having a giant tub of Crisco under the bathroom sink.

Episode 7: “The world is not your stripper pole.”
Remember when PDFS said that thing about Arian winding up getting raped? Well, it’s come-uppance time, baby. PDFS has invited Arian’s mom to town, hoping that Mom will talk some sense into her daughter. He has, unfortunately, forgotten this he’s just invited the woman who named her daughter a homphone of “Aryan.” Mom shares Arian’s sense of humor, and thinks it’s hilarious when Arian “talks about fellatio.” She thinks it’s even funnier when PDFS says “fellatio.” PDFS responds to this by kicking Arian off the show. The “girls” respond to this by letting PDFS know that they don’t particularly care for him. PDFS, in turn, gets his mom to defend him. It’s like somebody put white bread and ego in a blender and decided to make a Los Angeles smoothie. Is “Los Angeles Smoothie” redundant?

Eventually, we are led to a season finale full of happy-jolly endings where even the ladies who didn’t get matched with a suitable guy say “but I just learned so much!” The post-finale follow-ups reveal that most of the women who left Tough Love with promising relationships wound up back home with relationships not quite working out. Oh well, ladies. You didn’t get married and push a human through your sex organs, but you DID give birth to some damn fine television.

“Would JOHNNY DEPP fight for his woman?”

For those of you who haven’t been classy enough to be watching Daisy of Love, I’ll give you a brief set-up:

There was a guy on there who was under the impression that he…
1. is God’s gift to women
2. looks like Johnny Depp
3. has a coherent thought in his head

The words in the subject line were uttered by the delusional “Fox” during a challenge when Daisy asked the guys to spar for her favor. That’s reason #83,829 why I will never live in L.A. Only in L.A. would someone DARE to compare himself to Johnny Depp. I’m not going to say there’s not a casual resemblance (fostered by the delusional subject’s tendency to emulate Monsieur Depp’s hair and fashion), but…well, well I look at Daisy of Love’s “Fox,” I see “La Bamba-era Esai Morales.” Allow me to demonstrate:

Have you SEEN Esai Morales recently? There must have been something in the water on the set of La Bamba because both Morales and Lou Diamond Phillips have held up remarkably well. Kudos to you-dos.

The Joys of YouTube

Props to jrob for pointing the awesomeness of these two “Power Thirst” ads.

In other news, I have finally closed on the house, and I’m planning on moving the weekend of the 18th. Unforseen expense:

I’m sitting there signing the big scary stack of papers and Paper Lady says “so, should we just email this to your house?” And I was like, “hey, you know…I don’t think I have a mailbox yet.” I checked last night when Jen and I went over to hang material in the windows (for that “someone lives here, please don’t break my windows” look) and, yep. No mailbox. Oh well…if that’s the only unforseen expense, I’m getting off pretty easy. (But you know it won’t be the only unforseen expense.)

In other news, when I called the parents to share the closing news, my mom was like, “don’t buy anything….make a list of what you need.” I jokingly said that they were more than welcome to buy me a washer and dryer, and she was like, “well, dad and I had discussed that.” Pardon? Sweet! Cause, you know…the less money I spend now, the closer I am to having the giant fence. The giant “you can’t see if I’m here or not/you will have a harder time breaking into my car” fence.

Hooker Stole My Job, But I Love Her

Thanks to the wonders of tiVo and my new at-home working situation, I recently listened to a day-long marathon of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List. I have come to the following conclusions:

  1. I love Kathy Griffin even more than I thought.
  2. I love her friends, too. We both have a taste for strong women who don’t give a crap about what anybody thinks of them. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be friends with Margaret Cho? Hello?
  3. I seriously need to make more headway on the road to becoming a gay icon.

I don’t know if the Bravo show spawn Kathy’s icon status, or if her icon status landed her on Bravo (the official UNofficial gay channel), but I do know this: when Kathy shows up at an event, the gays love her. WTF? How do I get this?

I have recently interrogated Wendy on this subject, and she says that maybe I should go to more functions where there are gay dudes. Ideally, I would be asking a gay dude why gay dudes don’t take to me, but…well, I’d have to have a gay dude on hand, wouldn’t I? I love the lesbians, but let’s face it: lesbians don’t become drag queens. It’s not the same. Same thing for Jen…she loves glitter and shiny things, but I should still have at least one drag queen friend.

A girl needs to have at least one friend who can show her how to hook a fake bird to her head in such a way that she can still dance without said bird getting all crooked.

In the meantime, maybe I should consider stalking Kathy Griffin. She and I really need to go to Performance and buy masks. And then wear them to Chili’s and get anonymously wasted on bright blue drinks.