And *puts on bullet proof vest* I don't think there will be one tomorrow either. *runs and hides*
I know, I know, I'm a horrible person. Actually, I'm spending the day tomorrow with the Wee Boompie (my niece) and I haven't seen her in forever. She's only 3, but she's far more ruthless than I'll ever be and will most definitely kick me in the vaj if I back out. She told me she wanted a pony so I went and got her one... a My Little Pony. What the hell happened to My Little Pony by the way? Why does it look like an alien on a acid trip? I see no pony anywhere in that pink plastic face. Oh, and why does Mattel keep mutilating Barbie's face? The toy industry is about to get a very angry letter from one Ms. Colette Lala I'll have you know. Anyhow, the good news is I'll return with a wealth of new inspiration and stories that can only be had at a some random water park with a headstrong 3 year old running the show.
If, for some reason, the water park plans get canceled, I will send out the appropriate updates. Don't start doing rain dances or anything. I know how you bitches think.
I will, however, be updating my tweets with BB12 info and checking my emails nonstop so feel free to talk amongst yourselves here in the comments. And, enough with the guilt trips on Facebook! You bitches are evil.
On the BB12 front...
The HG's got their new tiny dining room table and Bitch Boy nominated Ragan and Lane. He says his target is Ragan, but some wonder if perhaps it's a big backdoor plot to get rid of Matt or Britney. Ragan cried over the nomination and Hayden & Enzo talked trash like they actually do shit in this game. The Have-Not's got eggplant and escargot and Bitch Boy continued to be the Douche Queen.
So, did these nominations shock you at all? Is Ragan really Bitch Boy's target? Is there any chance Matt uses the DPOV if the noms stay the same? Will I catch hepatitis from a public water slide? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!
I awoke this morning to find my panties in one corner of the room and a dead Goat Man in the other. All I can remember is the gin bong train that seemed to never end, Mr. O'Shaugnessy bursting through the door wearing one of those triangle shaped Asian hats, and then someone shoving an overflowing opium pipe in my mouth. Did I bury myself up to my waist face first into a vat of glitter with no pants on? I'll personally brutalize anyone who posts those photos online. Ugh... my head is swimming and I'm nauseous. I just need to lay back for a moment. Oh for crying out loud, why the hell are my vajazzle rhinestones on the ceiling?!? Deion! Are you responsible for this?! *sigh* And can someone please tell me why my dog is all of a sudden hairless? I only just got her yesterday (true story) and now she looks like fucking Grandma Wrinkles. And, for some reason, my sense of smell has vanished. I'm gonna look at that as a blessing in disguise. Looking around this room I can see the floor is sticky and there may or may not be a separated Siamese twin hanging from my chandelier. Let's recap, shall we?
The red headed harlot is gone and all that remains of her are the dyed coarse red hairs stuck in the Big Brother shower drain. It's a metaphor really. Rachel and her hairs stop fun, happiness, joy, goodness, precious furry animals, and clean filtered water from flowing into the ether. Time, like the water in that shower stall, stops and all your left with an unsanitary problem screaming for a plunger. Gross. But, I'm jumping ahead. First things first, the big HOH comp.
The houseguests have to unravel themselves from a tangled rope and get to the end first - a Survivor challenge by the way (Survivor cast first impressions coming soon at the Bitchy Survivor Blog!). Like a bat out of hell or a cro-magnan man chasing a wooly mammoth, Brendon hurls his oafish body and giant forehead through tangle after tangle of rope. Enzo begins to chat like he's having a cup of cawfee, Kathy curls up for a nap, and Britney can barely lift the rope over her head. The challenge was designed for large strong men so it's no surprise that Brendon, Lane, and Hayden were the head of the pack the entire time. Now, I don't know if Lane and Hayden genuinely threw the competition, but Brendon really was the only one out there with any fire in his gut. This complacency amongst the Brigade is nauseating. They control the house, they have a majority, it's ok for one of them to win now. People on Twitter seem to think they collectively threw the competition in order to not get blood on their hands. I'm gonna say that this is probably partly true. I'll bet they started with good intentions, but after seeing that actual physical labor and intensity were required, they weighed the "what's the worst that can happen" scenarios in their head and then threw in the towel. It is with extreme regret and disgust that I announce that Brendon, Bitch Boy extraordinaire, is our new HOH. *runs to bathroom to puke* Dammit, if I'm pregnant I'm gonna pissed. Never mind the fact that I have no idea who the father could be. I'll either give birth to a little person (Mr. O'Shaugnessy), a caramel baby (Deion), or an infant with hooves and horns (Goat Man). If I slept with anyone else I don't know about, let me know in the comments so I can kick your ass.
So, Bitch Boy wins and just as he smacks the buzzer or whatever he launches into a douchetastic speech about people coming after him. Thankfully, the Feeds went down and we were spared his ranting gibberish. It must have been during that speech that he named Britney, Ragan, and Matt as this week's Have-Not's. Since Bitch Boy stands for everything unholy that I hate, let's do the Have-Not's a solid this week, shall we? Why don't we all vote for them to get Bologna and Bran Muffins? No need to punish some of the only people willing to stand up to Brenchel. That sort of behavior should be rewarded not penalized. You can vote HERE.
When the Feeds return we find Britney and Ragan in the Have-Not room crying and feeling sorry for themselves. Hell, I'd cry too if I knew Encino Man was in charge of the house. I'd also probably drink Windex and gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon, but that's just me. Ragan begins to regret calling Rachel a witch on live television and that pissed me off a little bit. He thinks it's karma that's out to get him out. Britney disagrees saying that if karma had anything to do with anything, there's no way in hell Brendon would have won HOH this week. Meanwhile Enzo is in the other room wondering why everyone is so mopey and sad. He's as happy as can be with how things turned out. He's also a fucking idiot. I'm sorry, he's likable and all that, but I'm very "What have you done for me lately?" when it comes to Enzo. He never orchestrates strategy, he's always shocked when people evaluate game play for him, he never wins anything, and he eats like a pig. I truly think that at this point Enzo might even be more useless than Kathy. At least Kathy stands up for herself and tries. Yes, she's weak and all that, but she tries. I have yet to see Enzo try anything.
So, Brendon is HOH and he's picked up a new habit. He saunters now. He also curses like a retarded sailor, but this sauntering thing is really what's gonna bug me. How do I describe it? It's like P. Diddy walking with an ankle injury meets a constipated Cro-Magnon man. It's scary and if I saw it in shadow form on a wall, I'd hide under my blanket and call the police. He's the HBIC and with that comes a confidence that manifests itself in his walk. Mr. O has been practicing the walk all morning. It's cute when a naked bearded man with a new asian character tattoo on his ass imitates a caveman with his tiny bow-legged legs. He won't tell me what the tattoo stands for though. Everytime I ask him he blushes and giggles so I kicked him in the nads and sent him to his corner. Ahhhh, it's nice to have things finally back to normal around here.
Off in another room of the house, Enzo and Hayden are talking about who they'd vote out if Britney and Ragan were on the block. They both decide that Britney would be the better choice because, as Enzo puts it, "She knows stuff". Personally, I'd prefer Britney stay. A house of penis isn't really what I want to watch for the next 18 weeks (yes, it feels like 18 weeks) and Britney makes me laugh. I can honestly say that at this point in time, I would have no problem whatsoever with Britney winning the whole kit and caboodle and becoming our new BB12 champion. She's entertaining, she's winning stuff, and she's not afraid of the penis people. I dig that.
A little later on Enzo is shooting the shit with Brendon. Brendon tells him that they should have never kept him in the game because, by doing so, they've unleashed a monster. What kind of monster are you Bitch Boy? A whiny crying salivating (his saliva is really gross and audible) embarrassment to his family monster? Ooohhh so scary! Enzo ignores whatever Brendon is spewing and goes on to say how he really wants to get a photo of his wife and daughter at some point. Bitch Boy says he's not close to his family and that he'd be absolutely fine not hearing or seeing them. Hmmm, I wonder what's going on there. Could Brendon's suspension from the California School Board for inappropriate conduct have something to do with it? There's a story there... definitely. Count on it. Brendon even has the nerve to say that he'd much rather get a letter from Rachel than his family. Are you shitting me?! She just left the goddamn house! What's she gonna say to you Brendon? Hey HEY Heeeeyyyy, what's up in the hizzy y'all? Brendooooonnnn you better buy me an $80 bottle of wine when you get out. Love ya beyotch! I AM Vegas!! LULZ Is that the type of inspiration you're looking for Bitch Boy? You disgust me. Don't you have any friends or anything? Actually, what the hell am I saying? Of course he doesn't have any friends. Would any of you good people be friends with him? Hell to the no!
Back in the bathroom, Ragan is now crying to Hayden. He's aware of how ridiculous he looks and he actually used to laugh at people who cried on reality shows. It's just that Ragan, like Holly Hunter in Broadcast News, likes to have a good cry now and then to purge himself of all the bad thoughts. Holly did it daily, but Ragan likes to do it once a week. He also prefers doing it without a house full of cameras watching him and analyzing his every move. Hayden understands and says that he, too, has sometimes felt like crying. It's all very bromantic and boring. You see, everyone is basically forcing themselves to stay awake for the big HOH reveal. For some reason, it's taking a REALLY long time for Brendon to get his room. I wonder if the reason is that no one in Brendon's family wanted to write him a damn letter. Clearly, BB was unprepared for his victory (although I don't know why - wins like his are a dime a dozen in the BB house) and the rest of the house was forced to suffer because of it.
I woke up at 4 in the morning and checked my Twitter to see if anything of note had happened. It was about that time that Brendon had finally gotten his room. The letter was from Lupe, his sister, and I think it said a bunch of stuff about them not being close at all. Nice Lupe! Better yet, Bitch Boy got a photo of Rachel. I wonder if that was what took so long. CBS couldn't find one without her vagina hanging out so they spent half the night photoshopping in one that would be acceptable. He got a Weezer CD and seriously, who the hell cares? This week is gonna suck I think. The fact that Brendon even won at all was a big wake up call to Ragan and Britney and now I'm thinking they'll be holding their tongues and lightening up on the trash talk. Sucks.
So, who shaved my dog? How did Goat Man die? At this point, who do you want to win BB12? Do you foresee any fights whatsoever happening this week? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!
I love throwing parties - decandant, themed, girls making out in the corner, gumdrop, overstuffed pillow, DJ's in chaps, delicious parties. All morning I've been dealing with caterers, jugglers, bearded ladies, pantless clowns, members of the lollipop guild, ornery cat dancers, divalicious Siamese twins, elephants shitting all over my backyard, and one pissed off carny. If I've told Horatio once, I've told him a thousand times, Goat Man is not allowed to use my bathroom facilities. He's gonna have to go out back with the rest of the animal attractions. For crying out loud, you'd think no one ever threw a "Fuck Off And Die Rachel Reilly" party before. *throws hands in air* I mean, come on, this is Rachel we're talking about here. Every person she's ever encountered in her tequila soaked shmammered life has thrown similar celebrations throughout the past 26 years. I'm pretty sure Hallmark has a new "Congratulations! The Bitch Is Out Of Your Life!" display stand at the drugstore. So yes, my fair readers, I've gotten all of your RSVP's (why Deion submitted his with a naked photo is still a mystery) and my front door opens at 6:30. I figure that'll give everyone enough time to get some refreshments and pet Goat Man. Oh and one more thing before I head out to my vajazzle appointment, a certain Irishman will be making his triumphant return tonight. Get ready. Let's recap, shall we?
Let's go back in time a tiny bit if you will... back all the way to Tuesday night. There's a conversation that took place that I'd be remiss to ignore. Apparently, Hyena Fuckface and Bitch Boy were playing the cockroach game that Rachel plays back in Vegas. Her small Efficiency above the laundromat that reeked of stale alcohol was a safe haven for many out of work cockroaches. Whenever the exterminators would clean out the casinos the little guys would gather up their knapsacks and head to Ms. Reilly's abode. If there's one thing they could count on, it was lots of delicious and tasty olive oil soaked pans in the sink. Being a "scientist", Rachel loved to name her cockroaches and monitor their movements. Sometimes Charly revelled in the dank scents wafting from her laundry hamper. Conversely, Ilene much preferred the crusty panties on the floor. And, Skippy, well, Skippy was a drinker so he was right at home deep down at the bottom of a Patron bottle. The roaches were Rachel's family and she loved them.
Occasionally though, some "discipline" issues would arise among Rachel's vast and diverse roach community. For example, the day Emily went through Rachel's purse and found the adderall bottle was a day that'll live in roach infamy. It wasn't like Emily had ADD or anything. She was just a little self conscious about her weight is all. To make a long story short, Emily ate some of the good stuff, skittered all over one of Rachel's moustache twirling Saudi Princes who frequented the efficiency and in a vicious spitting rage Rachel squashed poor Emily with the bottom of one of her Peter Pan boots. The roach tribunal considered leaving and there were seminars going over risk management yadda yadda yadda. In the end, the roaches decided to stay with Rachel. She may fly into fits of rage on occasion, but the rampant filth littering every corner of her tiny home more than made up for it.
So, anyhow, Rachel found some roaches in her panty drawer at the BB house and she was showing Bitch Boy how to talk to them and love them. There were two that just couldn't deal with Bitch Boy's pungent breath and they kept trying to escape. Bitch Boy didn't really understand the roach game and he kinda wanted it to end so he named the roaches Britney and Ragan and promptly squashed them with his big toe. Rachel whined, "Brendoooooonnnn" and then they made love on the floor. It was gross. I puked again.
After a whole 2 minutes of groin grinding, Rachel got up and went outside to show off her "freshly fucked" look. At the mere sight of her, Britney sneered and Ragan pinched his nose shut. Mortified and angry, Rachel ran inside crying seeking sanctuary in the DR. After rinsing himself off with Rid, Bitch Boy headed outside to join his concubine. As he walked through the empty house he could sense something just wasn't right. The flaming red hair extension caught in the DR door was a signal to him that something was, in fact, very very wrong. In a frenzied panic he raced outside to confront whoever dared to mess with his woman and, as a result, the following conversation took place...
Bitch Boy: Hey you, Gay Guy, what's going on? Did you make my girl cry?
Ragan: *sigh* Brendon, you're not even privy to this conversation?
Bitch Boy: I am so privy! Well, you're in an alliance with a midget. Did ya know that? Ha!
Britney giggles
Ragan: *makes a 'W' with his fingers* Whatever Brendon. You're in a gruesome twosome!
Ragan: Are you kidding me? You're an early man... a neanderthal.
Bitch Boy: Nuh uh. Besides it's neander-tall I'll have you know. *itches his crabby pelvic area*
Britney bursts in laughter
Bitch Boy: You're both fucking fake man. I'm genuine *points to self proudly* I have integrity.
Britney snorts
Bitch Boy: Nick has no balls!
Britney: You're one to talk!
Bitch Boy: I do so have balls! Rachel has them in her purse I think. You're a cock-a-roach! *giggles*
Britney and Ragan look at each other quizically.
Britney: A what?
Bitch Boy: A cock-a-roach! You know, those things always eating my mom's enchiladas and Rachel's panties.
Britney: Yeah, uh, ok.
Bitch Boy: You're like 3 feet tall. *pause* Ha!
Britney sighs
Bitch Boy: *skipping around the yard adjusting his maxi pad* Britney's a 3 ft tall cock-a-roach. Britney's a 3 ft tall cock-a-roach.
Ragan: Uh Brendon, are you ok?
Bitch Boy: You should keep me here. Imma watch the cock-a-roaches run. *giggles to self*
Ragan: OK Brendon you do that.
Bitch Boy walks up to Britney
Bitch Boy: Did you hear me? I said you're a cock-a-roach.
Britney: Yes Brendon, I know. You realize I'm not scared of you, right?
Bitch Boy: I wanna watch the cock-a-roaches run! *adjusts his baseball cap so it's now sideways* You should be scared of me. I can kill you with my toe!
Britney and Ragan shrug their shoulders.
Bitch Boy walks back inside.
Aaaaand scene!
So yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it.
Moving onto yesterday, or what I like to call "Ultimate Bitch Day". It was snarky, it was witty, it was slightly evil so of course I rubbed glitter all over my chest and watched with a sparkle in my eye. Ragan and Britney are just about over all things Rachel and, to my utter delight, they have no problem whatsoever making fun of every single one of her annoying habits. We begin with Ragan's evaluation of Rachel's wardrobe. He says it's like a call girl's, but, then again, call girls make money so, actually, it's more like a street prostitutes. He's seen her vagina more than he cares to remember and Britney crinkles her nose in disgust and wonders how Rachel can look in a mirror and ever give her own appearance a stamp of approval. Ragan then says that Rachel looks like the type of girl who wears the same tampon for a week. She'd pull it out, see there's some more absorbancy left, and then stick it back in. *fights back giggles* OK that was pretty good. I'm a little diasppointed I didn't think of myself actually. Kudos Ragan, kudos.
Speaking of Ragan, he's growing on me a little bit. I fear his days are numbered though if he doesn't start winning something soon (that Diamond Veto in particular could really affect his game), but he and Britney make a nice little twosome I can actually appreciate. So, when some ignorant fuck on Twitter yesterday decided to use a homophobic slur as Ragan's new nickname, I recoiled in horror. This idiot actually thought she was being funny. Personally, I think she did it for attention and probably has an extra chromosome. I'm thinking she licks drywall and eats soup with an envelope. That's the only excuse I can come up with for the name she called Ragan.
Moving on, the plan is still to evict Rachel and, gloriously, Brendon thinks he's the one going home instead. He actually believes his caveman tantrums have bothered the HG's so much that they just can't stand it anymore. Sure, the HG's can't stand him, but that happened loooong before Brendon starting flailing his arms and killing roaches. I think it happened when he stepped his giant toe across the threshold and said "Hi, I'm Bitch Boy. I'm a eunuch, I like to swim, and olive oil gives me power." Conchita and Pepe must be so proud. Speaking of Brendon's parents, aren't you just dying to see their interviews? Seriously, thinking about it makes me want to let Goat Man share my bed. Watching Conchita clutching her voodoo doll while Brendon's sister, Lupe, flashes gang signs to the camera is like watching that scene in Staying Alive when Tony gets the lead in the big show. Your tummy begins to tingle, your heart soars, and you start writing Tommy Faragher fan letters begging him to please start recording again... or so I've heard.
So yeah, the evil wench is riding her broomstick out of the BB house for good tonight. Better yet, she thinks she's staying. Finally, all her integrity and generosity will be rewarded justly. That house is too much for her anyways. They'll never learn to appreciate her as much as she appreciates herself and, besides, the mirrors need some time off. Any more duck-lipped fluffs of that red thing on her head and the whole world might be subject to 7 years bad luck. We can't risk it... as a planet, we just can't.
I wasn't really home yesterday so I didn't get to watch too much of the feeds and today has been crazy so I know I'm kind of all over the place and unfocused, but let me just say that the Half Way Party was last night. This is the celebration that marks BB being half over. *deep breath* Really? Just half? *sigh* Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck! I can't believe I'm saying this, but I kind of can't wait for this season to be over. I really just want this all to be a stinky distant memory that I'll hopefully never remember. Maybe 5 years from now when I'm a famous bestselling author and I'm visiting the Barnes & Noble in Vegas on my worldwide book tour, a sudden tightness will take hold of my chest. I'll clear my throat and go out for a breath of fresh air trying to shake off the uneasy feeling making me prespire. I'll wonder if any of my many stalkers had finally found me or if, perhaps, I'd left the coffee machine on back at my palatial estate in Nantucket. My fingers will tremble and I'll nervously adjust the lapel on my custom-fitted Gaultier jacket. I'll lean my head back and look up to the sky asking whatever deity is out there to please help me calm down. I'll open my eyes to take in the sunshine and then... I'll see it. The sign. The big gaudy neon sign. WELCOME TO LAS VEGAS. And then, in a flash, it'll all come tumbling back to me. The summer of 2010. The summer when Vegas was tainted and my loins suffered so. A chill will take hold of me, which is rare in the desert, and I'll scream at my agent to whisk me out of that dreadful city or else his job is on the line. I'll get all Naomi Campbell on his ass and end up on TMZ or some shit like that... So, you know, yeah, stuff like that could happen.
So, is everyone ready for the party tonight? Hostess gifts are mandatory by the way. Do you think Brendon will cry? What furry creature will you destroy if Brendon wins HOH? Would you follow me like a deadhead on my book tour? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!
Conchita had made all the preparations and she was ready to make her poppit. She bought some candles, a packet of pins, a swatch of burlap, and every Gwyneth Paltrow movie she could find on VHS. You see, Gwyneth Paltrow is also a member of the "Worst Person In The World" club and the shredded tape from all of her films would serve as the stuffing for the poppit. Under the dark of night Conchita left Pepe in their bed and snuck out to procure the final ingredients. She snipped the pubic hair off of a red headed homeless person who always peed around the corner of her tortilla stand, cut the lips off of a Mallard, and found a willing Mexican youth to sell her his pimples. She tiptoed back into the tiny cottage and began to get to work. Careful not to wake Pepe she sewed the poppit by hand and watched as it began to take shape. The likeness was mystifying. She gave it square breasts made out of beef bouillon cubes and even used an old moldy cashew she found behind her refrigerator for a nose - the curve of it was just right! Meticulously, she attached the pimples one by one to the chin area. With a grimace on her face and clothespin on her nose, she attached each red pube one by one to the top of the poppit's head. The Mallard lips were the last item to be added. She rinsed off the duck blood and injected each one of the lips with a combination of lard and liquid nitrogen. After several experiments that was the only combo that would give her the exact consistency she was looking for. Finally, the poppit was done!
Conchita peeked in on Pepe to make sure he was still sleeping. She had sprinkled some Belladonna on his enchilada at dinner earlier that evening, but Pepe was a strong man and she wasn't sure if the Belladonna would sedate him. After finding Pepe deep in the Land of Nod, Conchita lit some candles and brought her cauldron to a boil. She wore her best muumuu - the one with the Aztec shapes and the eagle wings on the back - and began a chant so low and so deep that it shook the floorboards and rattled the windows. The heat of the cauldron began filling the tiny house and sweat started to drip down the sides of Conchita's face. The feathers she wore in her hair began to go limp, but she didn't care. She would do whatever it took to rid her only son of the witch who's taken hold of his testicles. The sulfuric acid and pig vomit in the cauldron boiled so rapidly that it seemed to be begging for a sacrifice. Conchita took the hideous poppit she'd created and held it over the stinking concoction. All at once she began to spit and cry and shriek, "Ir al infierno apestosa puta!" She hurled the poppit into the cauldron and watched as the hair, cashew, and duck lips began to mutate and sizzle.
It was done. The stench would linger for days but Conchita knew that she had, once and for all, saved her son from an uncertain future. Rachel Reilly would be nothing but a faint and hideous memory to the Villegas family. Brendon will never find out his mother was responsible for sending Rachel away. He'll think it was something he did or something he said. His depression will cripple him for a few months and his balls may never grow back, but, eventually, he'll make it through and live to swim another day. Let's recap, shall we?
It's POV Ceremony day and the Actor's Workshop is in full effect. Bitch Boy and Hyena Fuckface have prepared their monologues, finalized their blocking, and nailed the last rehearsal. They were ready! Britney delivers her opening lines and gives Bitch Boy the opportunity to speak on his behalf. Bitch Boy stands, clears his throat, and says, "Being a gentlemen I'm going to let milady Hyena speak first." He looks to Rachel for approval and then sits back down. Rachel rises, says, "I AM Vegas!!!", and then collapses into a heap of phony tears. Bitch Boy pats her on the hand and takes his turn to speak. He puts his baseball cap on backwards, just like he saw the cool kids do back in 1996, and says, "Britney, you're a selfish spoiled brat and that's why I want you to use the Veto on me. Thank you." He sits back down and looks very pleased with himself. Britney clenches her fist and, in not so many words, tells Brendon to suck it. She's not going to use the Veto and this Veto meeting is now adjourned.
Hyena Fuckface continues to squench up her face and tries to eek out one tear. None come and the HG's go back to whatever it is they were doing. Britney, livid yet humored at the same time, tries to distance herself as far away from the Gruesome Twosome as she possibly can. Unfortunately for her, Rachel finds her and begins to apologize on Brendon's behalf. Britney knows what Rachel is up to... Christ, the whole fucking house knows what this bitch is up to! She's instructed Brendon to act heinous so he'll go home and she'll stay. The problem is: when you're such a bad actor and your plans are so fucking obvious, the house has no choice but to fuck with you and let you think that you've outsmarted them. So yeah, the house has decided to go ahead and let Rachel think she's staying. It'll make evicting her on Thursday all the more sweet.
Speaking of Thursday, I've just confirmed my glitter delivery and this new batch of gin I'm whipping up will burn the hairs off your arms and curl your toes. Just for shits and giggles, I've added Wormwood. Wormwood is what gives Absinthe it's kick. It's what drove Edgar Allen Poe to the brink of insanity, it's what made Trent Reznor all crazy-like in that video for "The Perfect Drug", and it's what inspired Toulouse-Latrec to paint so provocatively. Actually, I'm thinking of recreating Toulouse-Latrec's signature drink for Thursday. It's 3 parts Absinthe and 3 parts Cognac shaken with ice cubes and served in a large wine goblet. I've got a gold plated Scarface Pimp Cup all ready for the magical elixir. I'm thinking body shots and a pantless clown making balloon animals might also be in order. RSVP in the comments so I know how many mini egg rolls to prepare.
Back in the house Hyena Fuckface is fake crying while Britney just watches in silence. Hyena says she has no control over what Brendon does and she doesn't understand why he said what he did. Boo hoo hoo... she's soooo tortured. Wah wah. Instead of sympathy and understanding, Britney tells Rachel that Brendon must hate women. That's the only explanation. He's the biggest gossip in the house, talks more shit than anyone else, and hates women. That's Brendon in a nutshell. Rachel sniffles quietly to herself, checks to see that Britney is watching her, and mumbles, "Yeah I guess so." Mother Teresa turned over in her grave and a beautiful wild Mustang in a field somewhere in Montana combusted. Spontaneous human combustions are far and few between, but do you have any idea how rare a spontaneous horse combustion is? Dudes, it's like once every 4 thousand years. The last recorded horse combustion is in like Revelations or something. Trippy. Laura better be careful... just sayin'.
This brings me to the "We're Better Than Everyone Else" portion of the day. I don't know what inspired it and I don't know what triggered it - all I know is that it was completely ridiculous and, as a result, Oxford, Webster, and Roget have all updated their "hypocrite" entries to include photos of Brenchel. OK so Bitch Boy and Brenchel are outside and poor Kathy is with them. She was just innocently having a smoke, but Brenchel managed to trap her on the outdoor couch and fill her ears with nonsense. Rachel starts off by saying how she has no idea why people hate her. All she ever did was win stuff. Hold on... I need a drink to recap this. I'm not even gonna bother with a glass. The bucket by the side of the tub will do. *fills bucket with gin and dunks head inside*
OK so Rachel has like no idea why everyone hates her. She's seriously a totally nice person. She's so not like a bitch at all. She and Bitch Boy never talk badly about others. They've just simply fought tooth and nail everyday to stay in the game and is it really their fault that they found love along the way? Like seriously, why does the house hate love so much? They are soooo genuine and so filled with integrity. I mean, they'd never say a bad thing about Kristen. Oh wait, you know Kristen talked shit about Hayden right? She even wants a secret power couple alliance. God, she's such a bitch! So yeah, they never say anything bad about anyone, but like what's the deal with Britney being so rude during that POV meeting? You know she must hate herself and have a horrible relationship with Nick or else she wouldn't keep talking about him all the time. God, she's so miserable. Lane doesn't deserve to be there either. He's lazy and never wins anything, but Rachel and Brendon are sooooo nice not to say anything bad about others. It's like totally clenched that they'll win the Nobel Peace Prize and Publisher's Clearing House. They're seriously, like, flawless.
Kathy sat stoned face while the two creatures from hell went on and on about how nice they were. If you flashback and watch really closely you'll see Kathy begin to put cigarettes out on her own body. She put one out on her eyeball, one inside her ear, and one on the tender part of her inner arm. She didn't blink or even bat an eyelash. I think the two infernal beasts must have had her under some sort of spell or something. I'm not sure.
The rest of the day was pretty lazy with lots of lounging by the pool and talking shit about Brenchel in the HOH. I did manage to catch some noteworthy nuggets though. Nugget #1: Brendon is confused as to why he is breaking out all over his face. Uh, Bitch Boy, it's because you're touching tongues with that festering thing you call a girlfriend. Her zit juices and herpes are having a field day all over your otherwise clear complexion. It's not the chocolate, it's not the olive oil you drink daily... it's Hyena Fuckface and your love. Nugget #2: For some reason Rachel is very interested in the BB Rule Book all of a sudden. She wonders if she'll get in trouble for going through Matt's things and taking his dollar. She, out of nowhere, now thinks that Matt's dollar holds some secret power. Now, we all know that Matt has the Diamond Power Of Veto hidden up his room. If Hyena goes looking for the dollar, she'll surely find it. My question is, what prompted this sudden suspicion on her part? Was it the DR? That's some bullshit if it is.
Forgive me, but there will not be a blog tomorrow. My day is jam packed and although I love each and every one of you from the bottom of my blackened soul, there's no way in hell I'm waking up at 5 am to do a blog.
Also, the lovely Kristen is now on Twitter! I'm thinking everyone should send her some messages @kristen_bitting telling her the Bitchy Big Brother Blog is the place to be.
I'm also going to be writing for a hot new online magazine called The Cake. The title comes from that Hole song that says, "I want to be the girl with the most cake". It hasn't launched yet, but the Twitter @thecakemag and Facebook page just went up and I'd love it if you guys could friend and follow them. The Cake will not affect any of my blogs. It's simply a magazine I'll be doing TV articles for. The Editor In Chief is a fan of my blogs and I'm still a little stunned my crazy rantings actually led to something. Very cool! Next on my list of things to do: Write a bestseller and get Angelina Jolie to play me in the movie version. I'm thinking of giving Conchita a call... her spells are magic!
So, do you think Conchita's poppit worked? Will she ever get the stench out of the upholstery? Will Hyena be sainted for all her good deeds? Will Bitch Boy cry on Thursday? Do you guys want noisemakers or fireworks for Thursday's party? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! I'll be back on Thursday.
Stories. I like stories. I like to read stories. I like to hear stories. I like to tell stories. Story time bonded the cavemen, delighted Cleopatra, made Jack The Ripper all the more scary, and, I'm pretty sure, it makes this blog like the best in the world. I'm still waiting to get my "Best Blog In The World" award by the way. I'll bet it got lost in the mail or something. So yeah, stories are generally pretty great. There is, however, one person who can tell a story so vivid and so horrifying that it makes babies cry, mothers weep, and the Villegas family abandon Christianity and turn to Voodoo. Mrs. Villegas (whom I'll now call "Conchita") has replaced all of her Virgin Mary iconography with Marie Laveau paintings. I don't know if you're familiar with Marie Laveau, but she was one of the greatest Voodoo Queens who ever lived. She could shake a rattle, charm a snake, and behead a chicken like nobody's business. She also organized scandalous mixed race orgies in the parlor of her New Orleans home, but shhhh, don't tell that to Conchita. Mr. Villegas (Pepe) isn't exactly thrilled about Conchita's new passion. Their house smells like pig parts, chicken fat, and burning sulfur. Pepe lets Conchita indulge in her new hobby because deep down inside he, too, hopes that all his wife's efforts will have a successful outcome: to get that red headed harlot away from their bouncing brown eyed baby boy Brendon! Let's recap, shall we?
Let's start from where the mild drama began. It's the middle of the day and Rachel is stuffing her pimply face with something or other. Matt sits across from her and he's being nice telling her that this whole nomination hullabaloo isn't personal, it's just game. Rachel responds with her characteristic devil's glare and Matt's testicles promptly crawl up inside his body. Hyena Fuckface then rises and makes an evil prophecy. She stands tall, raises one hand to the sky, points the other directly at Matt ,and proclaims, "I damn you to a life of eternal damnation and hellfire! Just wait and see what happens when you come to Vegas. No hotel will grant you entrance! No club will serve you drinks! You will be shunned by Wayne Newton! Bette will laugh in your face! Not even Criss Angel will take your money! You mess with me, you mess with Vegasssss!!!" Then she disappeared into a cloud of red smoke leaving behind nothing but a dab of pimple cream and some strands of black and red hair.
She pops up again in her bedroom. I guess all that damnation prophesizing left her spent and emotionally exhausted because she hid under the covers and fell into her first real crying jag. At home I grabbed a Diet Peach Snapple Iced Tea, some bon bons, and kicked back to enjoy the show. Memories of Ass Licker curled up in her yellow dress in the Green Room danced like sugarplums in my head. Unfortunately for us, Rachel had the good common sense to cover her head with her comforter as she wept. Blubber blubber burble burble hiccup hiccup was all we heard. I'm not gonna lie I giggled a little and probably tinkled from the excitement. I sent out Tweets, updated my Facebook, called an ex ,and shouted from the rooftops, "Hyena Fuckface is crying!" Then I shook my moneymaker and threw some glitter in the air for good measure. Good times.
Like an unwanted rash, Bitch Boy entered the scene. He was all sweaty and manly from doing his Jazzercise and says, "What's up babe?" She replied with a hiss, "Matt said I'm making things personal *sniff sniff* He told me I'm too EMOTIONAL!!! Wahhh wahhh." Bitch Boy reached for his Wizard hat and said, "I'm gonna go bash some skulls!" OK so I might be paraphrasing a little, but you get the idea. Rachel was sad, Brendon got mad, and lives were threatened. I took my top off and crossed my fingers for a Matt/Brendon altercation. I don't know why but fights always make me want to get naked. Rent Rocky IV when you visit me and you're in for good time.
I turned on the "Fight Alert" bat signal and feedsters from all around ran to their computers. We waited with bated breath as Bitch Boy prepared to rumble. The fact that he was debating whether or not to shower first was a little annoying, but I knew that eventually he was gonna throw down. Boy was I wrong! After several attempts to open the sliding door and get medieval on Matt's ass, Brendon just bagged the whole thing and decided to lather himself up in the shower instead. So yeah, no fight. Worse still, Bitch Boy comes out of the shower and decides to canoodle with his paramour. It was gross, it made me gag, and I'm pretty sure I'll be on Lithium by the time this season is over. When they make out it's not just the sound of tongues searching that completely paralyzes my belief in mankind. No, it's the giggles and the sighs and the "Brendoooonn's". No child anywhere should ever be named "Brendon" again. Rachel has done things to that word that even I don't have the strength to go through. She elongates it, she moans it, she whines it, she does these little staccato "Brendon!" shouts. I've written the Baby Name Society and I've requested they remove that vile word from their records. I'd like it to be as popular as the name "Adolph". I'm pretty sure no one names their kid "Adolph" anymore and I'd henceforth like the name "Brendon" to be treated the same way.
After they rubbed their skins together and produced some vile odors, Rachel was feeling chipper so she decided to go apologize to Kathy. Yup. Pretty great, right? Rachel sucked it up and told Kathy she was sorry for being such a vile hose beast after the POV. Kathy accepted her apology and said that she'll be happy to talk to Rachel if they can talk with class and tact and not all the name calling and drama. Rachel agreed and all was well. Of course Kathy immediately marched outside to tell everyone what happened. She made the distinct point of announcing "But I did NOT apologize to her y'all. Let's get that one thing straight." At home I giggled and put Spam on my shopping list. I'll go ahead and send the Dragon Lady some cans for when she gets out of the house. She's got a long winter to get ready for in that tiny little cabin of hers and I'm more than happy to help out a fellow Rachel-hater in any way I can.
For the rest of the afternoon the house was pretty chill... that is, until "you know who" made an appearance - Mr. Salvatore is baaaaaack bitches! This time the Feeds went down which kind of sucked, but through my powers of telepathy, telekinesis, and good old fashioned eavesdropping I was able to surmise that Mr. Salvatore is pretty much up to no good and out to piss me off. His message, for some reason, said that Brendon has been throwing competitions. I don't know why, but it almost seemed like Mr. Salvatore was trying to get the house to vote out Brendon instead of Rachel. On all that is holy and sacred, I most vehemently object. I want that bitch out of this house, off of my feeds, and forever erased from this blog. I want her to sit for a week all alone stewing in her own misery. She'll be so bored she'll have nothing to do but eat and get drunk. By the time Brendon joins her she'll have a whole slew of new zits and cankles to boot. That's my fantasy and, so help me god, I'lk karate chop anyone who gets in the way of making it a reality.
This brings me to my most favorite part of the night. Picture it - Hyena Fuckface (sometimes known as Satan's Baby) and Bitch Boy are in the kitchen making another olive oil feast when Hyena decides to regale Bitch Boy with some fanciful tales of her life in Vegas. You know how I mentioned "story time" in my opening paragraph? Well, it was all for this bit of deliciousness. OK so Rachel is wearing some mustard yellow tie-dyed number and checking her hair every 2 seconds in the mirror when she tells Brendon about her "clients". I'm not exactly sure what it is Rachel does, but I think there might be a required waving of a lamp over genitalia to check for open sores before the "work" begins... if you catch my drift. Money might be left on the dresser and regular HIV testing is probably mandatory. Wink wink, nudge nudge.
OK so the first story Hyena shares is about dancing. As dancing is near and dear to my heart, I was actually looking forward to hearing this little tale. As Hyena tells it, she and her friends decided to get like all crazy one night and just take Vegas by storm. They were gonna do it up right and get all shit-faced and, oh my god, it was gonna be like so awesome. Rachel had the brilliant idea to get all dressed up in daisy duke's and cowboy boots and choreograph a dance routine to an Aerosmith song. The gaggle of gals would then roll their shirts up like bikini tops and hit as many bars as they could perfoming said routine. They had a limo and a boom box and prepared for like days for this little bout of awesomeness. The night of their self-imposed "gig" arrives so they hop into their limo and head to the first bar/victim. They leap out of the car in a flurry of excitement. Rachel saunters in and shouts, "Hey HEY Heeeeyyyy! Hit it Jules!" Jules is her friend who was assigned the duty of hitting the play button on the boom box. She's pretty and blonde, but she fears Rachel is gonna skin her new cat so she indulges Rachel and her crazy schemes while praying that the job she applied for in Des Moines as a file clerk comes through. Jules hits play, Rachel cackles, and the dance begins. Rachel shimmies this way and that, she kicks her booted leg here and there, she juts her hips and swings her hair and is having a generally fabulous time. Only when there's a break in the song does she realize that her pals are no longer dancing with her. It appears that even after weeks of practicing at the "Ranch", those stupid bitches forgot the routine! Isn't that like the funniest best story ever?!
*crickets*
Bitch Boy? If you like your penis you might wanna nod or something. Rachel's nostrils are flaring and I think she wants an answer. Eventually, Bitch Boy forcibly laughs and says, "Yeah that's funny, so what is it exactly you get paid to do?" Rachel replies...
Oh my god so there was this other time when like I was so drunk at work that I made myself go throw up just so I could drink some more! I mean, everyone does that once in a while, right? It's so not a big deal.
*crickets*
Hang on a sec, I gotta lift Bitch Boy's jaw up off the floor.
Brendon clears his throat and says, "Uh yeah. Guess so... So who are these 'clients' of yours?" Rachel replies...
Then there was this other time when I was totally like shmammied at this bar and I was doing tequila shots all night and like my friends were all like, "Why don't you like enter a bikini contest?" so I like think I did and then the next thing I know I'm like in some alley somewhere naked covered in vomit with a death grip on a wad of hundreds. Isn't that the best? I won!
*crickets*
Bitch Boy gulps and wipes his brow, "Uh yeah that's great." He then very gingerly grabs his own mic and begins to whisper into it. He says, "Um help? Please... someone, anyone listening, send help. She's scaring me and I think I have to go home to my mommy now. Her name's Conchita Villegas. Please. Hurry!"
So how long do you think these two will last once out of the house? Will the spirit of Marie help Conchita and Pepe get their wish? How many times will Rachel have to puke on Brendon in order for him to get the hint? Does Rachel really have any power in Vegas whatsoever? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!
"You can feel it, you can almost taste it, the rightness in the air." Christian Slater says this line in the film Pump Up The Volume and before yesterday I never really understood it for myself. I've felt mosquitoes in the air. I've felt paranoia in the air. I've even felt an asthma attack in the air, but I don't think I've ever felt "rightness in the air". When you feel "rightness in the air" it's like a field of pinatas filled with vicodin is sprawled out before you. Each one of them smiles at you and beckons "Come hit me! Come hit me!" You bang the bejesus out of them and then little white pills of happiness coming raining down from the sky. That's how I always imagined rightness in the air to be. But yesterday *contented sigh* yesterday the Big Brother house, of all things, gave me that rightness I've been looking for. It gave me rightness wrapped in a bow and nestled in tissue paper. It was dipped in dark chocolate rolled in macadamia nuts and dusted with pure uncut Afghan opium. It wasn't quite the Fall Of Rome, but it was close. It was the Fall Of Big Red. *rolls around naked in a bathtub filled with glitter* Let's recap, shall we?
I'm not gonna dilly dally or waste you good people's time. The POV came and went and RACHEL LOST!!! Mwahahahaha! Oh happy day! Better yet, she lost bowling and in front of that bubblegum sugary sweet couple Jeff and Jordan. Yup, Jeff and Jordan hosted the POV competition this week and I actually wasn't too mad about it. Previous rumors from AG herself had Jeff spending the night in the BB house. Had that happened, I would have hurled my laptop into a haunted Friday the 13th kind of lake and called it a season. Lucky for you, their stay was only for a few hours.
So yeah, Rachel lost, but get this - Kathy was the one who knocked her out of the competition. Haha! Apparently, what happened was that Rachel picked "Houseguests Choice" when the house was picking POV players and she very strategically picked Kathy to play because she assumed Kathy would lose and be out in the first round. Not so fast Zitty McZiterson. Kathy hates you like she hates the roaches who steal her Spam back in Texarkana and she'll do anything to knock you off of your pedestal of hate. From what I can gather, Kathy knocked out Rachel and Britney knocked out Brendon with Britney winning the overall competition and her third POV.
This brings us to the delicious post POV drama. Pull up a chair and grab yourself a beer - this is good. OK so after Kathy knocked Rachel out of the competition, Kathy was so proud of herself for actually beating someone (and not just anyone mind you, the very brutal and ruthless Rachel) that she cheered "Yeah!" after bowling her winning ball. Well, Rachel and her mismatched extensions took that as a personal affront to all that his holy in the world and bitch wanted an apology. She marches up to Kathy in the kitchen and says, "I want an apology." Kathy laughs in her face and says "I ain't giving you nothin'. I beat you and I'm not apologizin' fer that" *bites fist* Rachel, shocked and surprised, goes on and on about how her poor herpified feelings were hurt and how when she was HOH she let Kathy sleep in her room. Kathy opened her Tammy Faye eyes nice and wide, raised her finger to Rachel, and unleashed a big ole bag of angry on her. It was sublime. It was delicious. It was what that bitch deserved!
Who knew that in a house full of strapping men, little country bumpkin Kathy Faye would be the one to open up a can of whoop ass? Finally, someone besides Kristen in that house of pussies has the balls to stand up to Rachel. It bothers me to no end that everyone hates her yet no one has the guts to tell her to her face how awful she is. The only way to get her to stop acting like an obnoxious hyena is to let her know how truly wretched she is. Call her out! That's really the only way to teach her a lesson. While all of this is going on, Ragan and Britney sneak away and hide in the HOH room, Lane and his beefy friends stand there trying to appear busy, and Brendon huddled in the corner and choked back tears. Not one person was willing to back Kathy up or tell Rachel how ridiculous she is. It was disgusting to be quite honest. As a result, I'm very proud of Kathy Faye. Not only did she shock me, but she earned some cool points with me. Well done Dragon Lady, well done.
Speaking of "done", Rachel isn't. Kathy walks away from her and goes into the cabana room. Rachel follows her and keeps demanding an apology. Kathy spat in her face, yanked out her nappy extensions, and then lit them on fire with the lighter she keeps in her bra. No, not really, but that would have been good, right? In actuality, Kathy just told Rachel that she's never apologizing and that she needs to get over herself. Kathy eventually retreats to the HOH room to get away from the psycho hose beast. Rachel, undeterred, goes back to the kitchen to make a speech. She pulls a wooden cross out of her ass and climbs up on it. She tells the HG's left in the kitchen that this has been a hard week for her and that everyone in the house is kicking her when she's down and that she doesn't understand why people are making this game so personal. Are you shitting me? Are you seriously fucking shitting me? Oh. My. God. I have one word for you Rachel and that word is... Kristen. You took Kristen out of the game for purely personal reasons. You were so jealous of Kristen you couldn't stand it! It ate away at your insides and gave you the shits when you realized how much better she was than you. She was a threat to your air time and that made you absolutely insane with envy. I have zero sympathy for you Rachel. You're one of those people who loves to trash everyone, but the second the tables turn you cry because you just can't take it. You disgust me and I really wish I could be there when you discover how hated you are.
When Rachel finishes her speech, she climbs down off her cross and goes into a bedroom with her minion slave bitch to make fun of Kathy some more. Back in the kitchen, Matt is stunned. He says everything Rachel said in her speech she's done herself only ten times worse. He can't believe how hypocritical she is. Yeah, well I can't believe what a fuck up you are Matt. We could have had this drama weeks ago! Had you put them up when you should have Kristen would still be here and I wouldn't be forced to watch hours of Brenchel making out. Do you have any idea what it's like to sit and listen to them tongue kiss each other while Rachel counts her zits? I can't take it anymore! My ears are tiny little tufts of bloody skin and my eyes are puffy shriveled up little nothings. I said this before, I used to be cute! Now, I'm slightly scary and I mutter "hate hate hate die die die" to myself all day. I putter about the house scratching at my arms and pulling out my own eyelashes. Rachel and Brendon have turned me into a complete mess. As I'm sure I'm not the only one, I take comfort in the fact that, at least, I'm not alone.
Actually, maybe that's why the other HG's run away from Brenchel all the time. Maybe they're just saving themselves from the agony of trichotillomania, schizophrenia, and lots of other words ending in "-nia" that probably require a boatload of prescription pills. Up in the safety of the HOH room Britney is going off on how disgusted she is by Rachel. Brit thinks that Rachel's family and friends must be horrified. Actually, I think the family that's horrified is the Villegas family. I just know Brendon's mother has a shaman on retainer to rid her son of the clutches of the red-headed viper. I'm thinking this Thursday we'll finally get those home visits I've been waiting for. The Reilly's will be annoying. Count on that. They'll be thrilled with Rachel and how well she's done. They'll approve of Brendon and think he's the perfect match for Big Red. Conversely, Brendon's mom will be clutching a crucifix weeping into the camera with 10 rosaries around her neck. His dad will be thin-lipped and furious. His sister will be holding a machete and flashing gang signs to the camera. It's gonna be awesome!
Ok so after some weepy talk from Brenchel where Rachel fake cries and Brendon threatens to piss off the house so they keep Hyena Fuckface instead of him, Rachel finally snags Britney and confronts her about the POV. She straight up offers Britney $5ooo to which Britney replies "No way Jose!" Britney says that if she took the money and used the POV it would anger the house and jeopardize her own game. She tells Rachel it's nothing personal, but it'll hurt her greatly in the end were she to use the POV. Rachel whines and says, "But you were gonna use it on Haydennnnn." Britney says, "But I didn't." Rachel says something about in reality she's not a big competitor and then she says something about wanting the big competitors to team up. I don't know. She's not making any sense. Basically, all you need to know is that Britney isn't using the POV and she's not taking Rachel's money. The end.
This brings me to the part of the night that I may never recover from. I'm not a religious person at all, but I'm pretty sure Jesus cried last night. Bitch Boy and Hyena Fuckface are sitting in bed together and Bitch Boy tells her, "I was put in this game to meet you. I'm going to write you a poem everyday. You're my muse." In that instant, my pet unicorn impaled himself with his own horn. I had to stuff him in my car, drive him to the vet, and watch while the doctor yanked and pulled and used his feet to get some fulcrum and torque on that bitch of a horn. I'm sad to say that Barnaby is still in intensive care. The good news is he's getting lots of great drugs and I may or may not be hooking up his IV to my own inner arm veins. Look, Barnaby has lived a long and fruitful life. If I'm going to make it through 18 weeks more of this shit (I know it's probably only 4 weeks, but 4 weeks in BB12 time feels like years) I'm gonna need to be sedated and passed out on the good stuff. Besides, my unicorn dealer is making a stop to DC this week. I hear he's got a new sassy bitch in his stable. Her name is Barb E. Dahl. Is that not perfection?! I hear she curses like a sailor and likes to watch Double Trouble reruns. I have no idea where the hell I'm gonna find a Double Trouble DVD. The last time I saw those twins was in Grease 2. They were singing a song about Brad and taking classes from Connie Stevens.
Alright, well clearly I'm losing my mental faculties. I'm gonna wrap this up and let you bitches take control of the comments.
So, how many more fights do you think Rachel will have this week? Will Brendon cause a bruhaha in order to save his wench? Does Santaria really work? Brendon's mom wants to know. If I held a contest for the best poem written in "Brendon speak" would you participate? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!
