Sunday, September 26, 2010

Dear Windowlicker,

Someone just tried to post the following comment on my blog regarding the Nutjob clan:

Okay first of all why does Kristen spend so much time with a known Lesbian who has admitted she wanted to seduce Kristen? Does Kristen enjoy this lesbian attention? Kristen also threatened Britney who is a lovely young woman from a good Christian family. Kristen is so Jealous of Britney it is pathetic. Kristen is also good buddy's with Ragan Fox. I have heard about his blog and he is an uncouth, disgusting homosexual. No mother wants her son hanging out with a woman like Kristen and her questionable morals. I agree with Hayden's family Kristen comes from the streets. Hayden comes from a loving christian family. They both need to go there separate ways.

To the asshat who wrote this filth,

Today is your lucky day because I'm going to do you a huge favor. Get excited now, because I think this is a pretty big deal that not a lot of people in your IQ bracket get to experience. Now, I'm just going to go ahead and assume you have a fireplace. Actually, it's probably a pit in your backyard with festering pig remains in it, right? Nevertheless, it'll do for this little project.

Ok douchenozzle, go to your local Piggly Wiggly or WalMart or whatever outlet supplies really sharp and pointy cooking implements. Something like those things you cook shish kabobs on will work perfectly. Go ahead and get a whole mess of 'em. I'll reimburse you. It'll be fine.

When you get back to your sweaty little hole in the wall, go ahead and put your Klan robes away because I don't want them catching fire by accident. When they're safely nestled in your closet (the one with the Confederate flag hanging on top of it), take your pretty new razor sharp metal thingies, some matches, and go out back to the smelly fire pit you used to cook that baby deer you shot last weekend. Get a fire going - a nice good size one. You might want to read the instructions on the box of matches in case you forgot how to light one. I know how quickly that common sense stuff just eeks out of your head.

When you've got some nice pretty orange flames shooting up to the sky, go ahead and stick your shish kabob holders in there. The last thing I want is for you to get some unfortunate infection. An infection coupled with the Rabies that has clearly made you mentally "off" can only end badly. Trust me on this one.

Once everything is all sterilized I want you to take your sizzling hot pokers and one by one jam them into the following places: one in each eye ball, one in your spleen area (that's the lower left part of your chest windowlicker), one in your navel (if you can find it), and one really far up your asshole. Don't be shy at all. Just jab them in there real good. It only hurts for a second. I swear.

At this point you probably have one or two pokers left. These are the special ones. *claps hands* It's so exciting, right? Take one and say an 'Our Father' to it. As a religious peson, you're gonna need Jesus right about now. Tell Him how sorry and wrong you were for daring to utter homophobic filth on my blog. Apologize for polluting the Earth with your ignorance and stupidity and promise Him you'll do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

You should be crying at this stage in the game and since your eyes are most likely stinging from the salt and the blood, let's go ahead and put you out of your misery. Take that hot poker you've been praying to, open your mouth really wide, and jam it as hard as you can in the back of your throat. As you're probably a tenacious little monkey resembling a hard to kill mold or fungus, chances are you're still alive and kicking. Stand yourself right next to your fire pit, stab that last poker forcefully into your temple, and, if you'd be so kind, fall straight into the pit.

I'll go ahead and sprinkle your ashes at the place they empty those Port-A-Potty's. I want you to be comfortable amongst your kinfolk and I think a hot festering cesspool of shit is exactly where you belong.

Love and other indoor sports,
Colette Lala

Friday, September 24, 2010

Momma Nutjob Takes Down Vegas!

The yawn inducing season 12 of Big Brother may be but a faint distant memory in the cavernous recesses of my mind, but the gossip lives on! Delicious, creamy, velvety, fairy fluttering gossip. Grab your gin tumblers and a bucket of popcorn and get ready for some bitchassness! Let's recap, shall we?

OK so over at the Bitchy Network I've been posting all sorts of lovely nuggets about the Vegas Bash - everything from All Stars 2 alliances being made to BB alums getting so trashed they missed their charity obligations to a PopTalkWebShow interview being interrupted by a psycho. It is this psycho that I write about today. Her name isn't really important because I'm just gonna go ahead and call her Momma Nutjob.

Shaggy haired Hayden has won BB12 and America just kind of shrugged their shoulders and decided to water their plants and take out the trash or something. I'm sure he's a nice enough guy and all, but he was boring. He was so boring in fact, he was Bo-ring! Worse still, we were forced to listen to him plan his future fame during those final weeks in the house which I documented ad nauseum here in this little fancy pants blog. Well, it turns out back in Arizona or maybe it was the 9th ring of hell - I'm not exactly sure, Momma Nutjob, was watching and stewing and planning. I picture her hovering over her cauldron of hate and rubbing her bony liver spotted hands together while planning how she's gonna ride the Hayden Train all the way to the bank while Grandma Nutjob cackles in the background over not having to clip coupons anymore for hair bleach. Sister Nutjob was probably out back gathering hemlock and toad stool or some shit like that. It's all very MacBeth. Yes, I've just managed to turn a BB12 piece of gossip into Shakespeare.

So Hayden wins Big Brother and the whole Nutjob clan flies to L.A. to run their fingers through Oedipus', err I mean, Hayden's hair. One would think the Finale Party would be a time of celebration and laughing and giggling, but nooooo Momma Nutjob has a score to settle and that score is called Kristen Bitting. *lightening strikes in the distance* At the Finale Party, Momma Nutjob put on her best threads, assembled her flaming hair just so, and began the laborious task of telling everyone who'd pay attention what "trash" Kristen was and how there was no way in hell her son would ever date her. You know that phrase "taking the high road"? Well, Momma Nutjob took the Death Valley tumbleweed covered road even Satan himself is too scared to travel. Seriously, a class act right here folks.

Naturally, the CBS Finale Party was filled with industry people associated with the show and the network and it's only normal that they'd want to speak with some of the past HG's. Well, Kristen, being a total hot piece of ass with legs for days, was pretty popular that night. My CBS source tells me that every time Kristen was approached by someone of importance, Momma Nutjob's head spun around like that chick in the Exorcist. Momma Nutjob wanted all the attention on herself and Hayden. She refused to leave Hayden's side the entire time and I'm pretty sure a leash around his neck wouldn't have been entirely out of place. Note to Momma Nutjob: YOU, my dear, are not famous nor will you ever be. You keep up this bullshit you're pulling and your son won't be for much longer either.

Now we arrive in Las Vegas. Vegas - land of the mealy mouthed redheads, exhausted showgirls in torn fishnet tights, and polyester covered Elvis impersonators. Not one, but THREE sources have regaled me with the infamous PopTalkWebShow incident I broke last Monday over at the Bitchy Network. For those of you who missed it, allow me to elaborate. BB12 Houseguests were scheduled to be interviewed by the fabulous Scarfed One himself, Kevin Campbell. He had a nice set-up with lights and cameras and cute little pink PopTalkWebShow cards. Hayden, who thought he was a rock star all weekend long, arrived for his interview, walked in, saw that it was more than just Kevin and a flipcam, and said, "I'm not supposed to be doing big interviews with anyone but CBS." Uh, chucklehead, you do realize that Kevin, Laura, Kristen, Enzo, etc are all under the EXACT same contract you are, right? After some fitful swishing of his hair, Hayden finally agreed to do the interview and everything was set to go. They were all ready to start when in the distance a slow rumbling began... it was faint at first, but then grew so loud it was like those youtube videos you see of tornado activity. Was it a bird? A plane? No, it was Momma Nutjob! Momma Nutjob, who was probably off adding another coat of lipstick and sealant to herself when her son entered the room, came bursting in waving her hands around screaming, "Cut! Stop! Cut!" It turns out she refused to let Hayden do the interview specifically because it was WITH Kristen. *thunder claps*

Personally, if I was Kristen I'd be plastering this shit all over the internets, but as far as I know she hasn't said much at all about all this. Girlfriend has much more restraint than I'll ever have. Lucky for you I have lots of friends on the inside and a big mouth. Shall we continue?

So, Momma Nutjob, Grandma Nutjob, and Sister Nutjob continued their reign of terror in Vegas by strutting around like they were A-listers and being nothing short of unpleasant to everyone who crossed their path. For some reason, this Kristen thing really bothers them. I mean, psychotically, irrationally, mental institutionally really bothers them. I'm pretty sure I'm not going overboard when I say, "Thorazine drip, STAT!" There's one more incident I want to touch on and it takes place in a restaurant. First, another quick note to Momma Nutjob: When you pull your lunatic stunts, don't do in a fucking public place where my blog readers could be lurking about.

OK so Kristen and Annie were at some restaurant eating and it turns out that a bunch of Hayden's friends and Momma Nutjob just happened to be there. As Kristen is delightful and banging bodied, the friends were happy to see her and were exchanging friendly pleasantries and joking around. Momma Nutjob was probably sitting in a corner layering on some more thick eyeshadow and grumbling into her gruel when she caught a glimpse of the merriment going on. As merry making is a foreign idea to Momma Nutjob, she was actually overheard saying... wait for it... "I'm going to throw that trash over the counter and have her trotted out of here!" *bites fist* Wow. Fucking wow. Oh, but I'm not done. There's MORE!

Momma Nutjob storms out of the restaurant followed by Hayden and his friends. Out front some sort of spat broke out involving Annie. I'm not entirely sure of all the details, but it appears as if Annie was defending Kristen and Hayden's friends were having none of it and gave Annie a piece of their mind. I don't know how, but Momma Nutjob has not only Hayden, but all his buddies by the short and curlies as well. I'll bet she says, "Kiss me." and they say, "How hard?"

OK so I haven't exactly been the nicest gal to one Miss Annie Whittington. I started the season really digging her, but that turned into a gentle disdain when she blocked me on Twitter for asking one innocent question, but good on you Annie. Good. On. You. It seems to me that Kristen has taken a lot of shit for something so innocent and fluffy that it's really not even all that remarkable an issue anymore. Hayden had a little crush on her in the house and shared some kisses - THAT'S IT! She's not pregnant. They're not having a litter of Haysten's or Krayden's. She lives clear across the country from the boy for crying out loud. I just can't wrap my head around why Momma Nutjob is so fucking psychotic over Kristen. I still maintain she's in love with her son. I said it back when I saw his family footage and I'm saying it again now. She's creepy and weird and she should step off and let her grown ass son live his own life. God help the woman Hayden eventually marries. That poor girl... that poor poor girl.
If you're a fan of Survivor, please check out my Bitchy Survivor Blog. So far, we're having a very nutty and colorful season.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

The End Of The Affair

So, it all comes down to tonight. We've spent 10 weeks wading through the jungle of BB12 misfortune. We suffered harrowing night after night of doldrum nothingness. We watched as the love of our lives slipped through our fingers like boring tasteless tap water. I used to pine for Big Brother. I once scratched at it's door and peered through it's peephole taking pages upon pages of scrupulous detailed notes. That love affair is over now. I no longer stalk my BB12 twitter feed. I don't think I once clicked on Jokers all season long. In all honesty, I've just waited... impatiently... for today.

So here we are. Finale night. Truthfully, I'm more interested in who wins America's Choice than I am with who wins the entire season. The interesting people left too soon and the uninteresting overstayed their welcome. We're left with three morons who wax poetic all night long about the fame and fortune that'll never come. How I would love to see their faces when it hits them that all their dreaming and fantasizing was all for naught. Maybe one by one they'll read this here little blog and I can help them all come to their mushy dulled senses. I don't know. *shrugs shoulders*

I know I slacked off this past week, but, seriously, can you blame me? I'm only human. If I were some superhero with powers to repel boredom, I might have stuck it out and blogged the inane conversations taking over the house the past few days. I fear I am not that strong. I am weak and I have since found another lover. Survivor is it's name and that's where all of you lovely readers can find me every Thursday - at the Bitchy Survivor Blog. On Mondays you'll be able to enjoy my rantings over at the Bitchy Amazing Race Blog. While Big Brother may be over, my heart, much like the Titanic, will go on. I will continue to find reality people to ridicule *shakes fist to the sky* so help me god.

I want to thank each and every one of you for checking back here daily, commenting, and generously supporting this blog. You guys make it all worthwhile. If you haven't already, please join the Bitchy Network and take part in discussions about all sorts of wonderful and ridiculous TV shows. If anything scandalous goes down in Vegas, I'll be reporting it all at the Bitchy Network. My spies are in place and gossip will be bountiful. With Ass Licker and Hyena Fuckface in a room together, sparks are bound to fly.

Thanks for the love, the hate, and the laughs. I'll see you next year to do it all over again for BB13.

Love and other indoor sports,
Colette Lala

P.S. If you've enjoyed what I've done here this season, please click on my PayPal button and show your girl some love.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Coming To A Piggly Wiggly Near YOU

Big budget movies, reality shows, The Amazing Race, bar tours, concert gigs, commercials, websites, interviews, magazines, grocery store openings, time travel... the sky's the limit for the chuckleheads left in the house. Just ask them. According to Lane, there's a multi-million dollar 200 city/42 country bar tour awaiting him and Hayden when they leave the house. You think Bon Jovi or the Rolling Stones are the only people who can conquer Rio and Tokyo? Wrong! The Brigade is gonna tear this world up! Seriously, you guys, buy your tickets NOW before they sell out.

Now, I'm not exactly sure what Hayden and Lane will actually do on these tour dates, but it's bound to be fascinating, right? I mean, maybe they'll get on stage and work out or play pool. Fingers crossed I can see Hayden brush his bangs to and fro. Is Tiger Beat still around? Get Lane's mug on the cover of that bad boy because I so want to decorate my locker with it. And, if someone can finagle some sort of Burger King Hayden & Lane action figures or fountain cups, I'd be eternally grateful.

I'm sitting here watching last night's BBAD and wondering to myself what hallucinogenics Big Brother has been slipping into the water. I'm thinking it's potent, CIA created, and probably only legal in Amsterdam. An underground laboratory at Langley was definitely involved and perhaps input from the CDC as well. If whatever Lane and Hayden are ingesting gets out to the viewing public, that show The Colony won't simply be speculation anymore. It'll be fact. Anarchy will break out, I'll be forced to make a windmill out of shutters, and I may or may not have to create gasoline out of pig parts. Advanced delusion, like I'm witnessing right now in the BB house, is what killed the dinosaurs I think.

So, Lane has won Part 2 of the HOH and Enzo is pretty much done. Hooray! Hayden and Lane have vowed to take one another to the Final 2 as neither think they can beat Enzo in the end. Enzo knows what the dilly-o is so he's decided to sit in a corner by himself and pout all night long. He doesn't even want "Wifey" and the baby to come to the finale anymore. He prefers to sit in solitude with his thoughts and bitch and moan about how he fucked up his "golden opportunity" to win half a million dollars. He blew his one and only chance for his family to have a better life and the future is looking remarkably bleak right about now. His wife will have to continue to work in a sweltering factory where bathroom breaks are forbidden, Baby Gia will be forced to carry a kerchief on the end of a long stick and steal canned foods from passing trains, and Enzo will have to work 19 minimum wage jobs flipping burgers. It's all very very sad. Apparently losing Big Brother is the end of the road for Enzo. I have no idea how he managed to exist and survive before BB12 came along, but whatever worked for him before won't work anymore and now his life is over. *tear* Gia will probably end up addicted to the heroin and turning tricks in the back of blacked out vans - all because her daddy lost Big Brother.

While Enzo spent his evening with his head in the oven, Lane & Hayden sat outside in their misspelled Brigade t-shirts planning their futures. Exciting stuff, let me tell ya. Why anyone anywhere would pay anything to see these two idiots is beyond me. Do yourselves a favor and save your money. Take the money you'd spend on a Brigade t-shirt and get yourself a few months of NetFlix. Invest the money you'd spend on gas driving to Steamboat and treat yourself to a Blu-Ray DVD player. Hell, go ahead and buy an 8 track or some VHS tapes. Anything would be wiser than giving these two yahoos your cash.

Aaaaand, that's pretty much all I got for today. Nothing happened and nothing will happen from here on out. My weekend is jam packed (thank god!) so there won't be any blogs until at least Monday. So, what did you guys think of Part 2 last night? Did it shock you Enzo only stayed on that swing for 25 minutes in Part 1? Out of all the people in BB12, who do you think has the best chance of getting on The Amazing Race? How long do you suppose Rachel spends rehearsing one-liners? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Wednesday Bloody Wednesday

The night began with a buzz and a simple "What does this do, yo?" It was Enzo in the bathroom playing with a new razor and inadvertantly sealing his own fate. You know that phrase Gandhi said "Desperate times call for desperate measures"? Well, desperation took over the Big Brother house last night and audiences everywhere were subjected to a night so bloody that Bono is penning lyrics about it as we speak. Yes, my dear readers, Enzo has breathed his last breath and "Yo'd" his last Yo. Never has Big Brother After Dark been so violent so it is with great sensitivity and painstaking care that I recap for you the last moments of one Mr. Enzo Palumbo's life. Let's recap, shall we?

Hayden has won HOH and the Brigade has accomplished everything it's set out to do: bore and annoy BB fans everywhere to the point of just not caring anymore. We can't even be bothered to get angry. When the news hit that BB13 has already been ordered we all just kind of yawned, stretched, and said, "Really? Oh ok." and then we went back to napping. The only thing that makes us want to get out of bed and maybe brush our teeth for the day is the fact that America's Choice for favorite player is still in our hands. Now, I'd love more than anything else for Kristen to win, but I'm a realist (sometimes) and it's bone hard medical fact that she left the game way too early to win AC. I could mobilize my infantry units and demand everyone vote for her, but I fear it just won't be enough. Dick and Jane America watching only the CBS shows don't read this blog and, while they're lives are severely lacking because of it, there's no way they'll vote Kristen for AC. She left too soon and Dick & Jane just don't take their Gingko Biloba like they used to. So, where does that leave the Bitchy Big Brother Blog? I'm torn as to whether or not to endorse Ragan or Britney. I like them both, but I want to be sure to pick the one who has the best chance of winning. Had America not chosen Ragan for Saboteur, I'd go ahead and recommend you give your vote to Britney, but I just don't know. What do you guys think? Let me know in the comments and we'll collectively vote as a group for that one person. Let's do everything we can to make sure Enzo does NOT win America's Choice.

OK so back in the house the mood is a pleasant one. Hayden is peering through the mop on his head and fiddling with the HOH key around his neck while Lane is off somewhere... breathing. Only Enzo appears to be jittery and full of energy. He sits in the bathroom alone and attempts to take care of a little manscaping for the big live show tonight. Big Brother has graciously given the HG's a shiny new sharp razor and Enzo is busy trying to figure out how to turn it on. He plugged it in, but for some reason the damn thing just won't buzz. He hollers for Hayden and Lane to come help him, but they just sigh and continue practicing being comatose. Enzo shouts, "Yo, help me with this razor, yo!" Hayden and Lane look at each other with raised eyebrows. "Did he just say razor?", Lane asks. "Yeah dude.", Hayden replies. Slow smiles creep across their faces as they rise and prepare to help their good buddy figure out the razor... yo.

Hayden and Lane enter the bathroom area to find Enzo seated and shaking the electric razor up and down. Hayden gently puts one hand on Enzo's shoulder and whispers, "Here, let me help you with that." It quickly becomes apparent to Hayden that Enzo has simply forgotten to flip the power switch in the "On" position. He shares his discovery with the group and they all throatily giggle together. Enzo smiles, "Thanks, yo." Pointing to the back of his head, he asks, "Would you mind trimming up this part back here, yo?" Hayden answers, "Sure buddy." He looks to Lane, winks mischievously, and beckons him over with one finger. Hayden says, "Let Lane hold your head still. I want to make sure to trim a straight line." Enzo sits in the chair while Lane straddles him and grips Enzo's bristly head with his two meaty paws. It was a little awkward at first, but Enzo trusted his buddies so he didn't give Lane's hot breath in his face a second thought.

Razor in hand Hayden kisses the HOH key around his neck, looks up to the camera to mouth the words, "I'm sorry", and with great precision he proceeds to slice off Enzo's ear. Lane holds the screaming Eye-talian still while Hayden takes the severed ear and begins to eat it. Enzo struggles and shrieks, "What the hell are you doing yo?!" Hayden smiles a no lipped bloody smile and replies, "Making sure I win $500,000 yo." Now, Hayden and Lane aren't the sharpest tools in the shed, but they know their odds of winning greatly increase with Enzo safely out of the picture. As Hayden is kind of a pussy boy who'll only begrudgingly make decisions when he absolutely has to, it's just easier for him if Enzo were to, oh I don't know, suddenly disappear. Having to choose on live TV on finale night between his two buddies makes Hayden feel all oogy inside and if there's one thing Hayden hates, it's feeling oogy.

As far as Lane is concerned, well, he just loves the violence. Sure, he may not win the 500K, but with Enzo gone he's guaranteed at least 50K and that's good enough for him. Seeing Hayden chomp away on Enzo's floppy ear gives Lane an idea. He takes the razor from Hayden and begins to work it back and forth over each one of Enzo's fingers. Hayden leaps and dances like a monkey boy in the background while Lane stuffs the fingers one by one into Enzo's giant trap. "That's for eating with your mouth open!", Lane declares. Hayden giggles and takes the razor back from Lane. He shaves Enzo's head bare and laughs heartily when the teeny tiny hairplugs from the Jeremy Piven Collection began to leap out of Enzo's skull.

The bloodied torture continued into the wee hours of the morn and, let me just say, it was Amityville, Silence Of The Lambs, and the poodle scene from Interview With The Vampire all rolled up into one. Removing Enzo's nipples with a sharpened wooden spoon was bad enough, but did Hayden and Lane really have to eat Enzo Toe Nuggets for dessert? As a pacifist that just seemed a little extreme to me... especially when they dipped them into the Honey Mustard sauce. I don't know what shocks me more: the fact that Hayden has always had pure uncut evil living in his hair or that Showtime dared to air the murderous rampage in it's entirety.

In lieu of flowers, Mama Celeste and Papa John request garlic. *shrugs shoulders* I know, it's weird, but Enzo was their only son so let's indulge them.

So, did you make it through all of BBAD last night? Who should we vote for America's Choice? Would it shock you to know that Enzo Toe Nuggets are naturally fragrant with oregano? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Welcome To The Club Enzo!

Occasionally, I like to pick people for the pledge class of the Worst People On The Planet Club. I feel it's my moral duty to sweep these miscreants away so they can no longer do anymore harm to this beautiful place I like to call Earth. It's a very Michael Jackson This Is It thing I do where I like to dance and sing about pretty rain forests as well as scream and grab my crotch over the bulldozers ruining them. Now, I'm not perfect (although I'm damn close), but I know the difference between right and wrong, good and evil, delightful and crazy, and sweet and sour. Some current members of the Worst People On The Planet Club are Ass Licker, Rachel Reilly, Teresa Giudice, Alison Grodner, Joran Van Der Sloot, Michael Vick, Spencer Pratt, Tila Tequila, and whomever is currently beating me at Words With Friends (yes, I hate you all). It's important to call out these people for their wrongdoings and make examples of them. If I had things my way I'd chain these vile creatures to a fence and then unleash a bunch of rabid dogs and raccoons and let the bloodbath begin, but, as that's probably not legal and a total bitch to clean up, I'll just stick to naming names in this here little blog.

I spent yesterday down in my laboratory mixing all sorts of fascinating chemicals together and I think I've come up with the newest member of the Worst People On The Planet Club. He's an open mouth eater, a highfalutin talker, a butcher of the English language, and an utterer of homophobic slurs. Enzo Palumbo, welcome to the club! You'll find your membership card, some rusty nails, and a high powered staple gun in your orientation packet. Please put the card in your wallet, jam the rusty nails up your nose, and then at your earliest convenience begin to staple yourself in your most sensitive of areas. In a few days Sepsis should set in and then you'll no longer be a problem to the universe.

If you're unsure as to why you've been given this honor, allow me to outline it for you.

#1 You eat like a fucking pig. You're a 30-something year old father and when you eat anything from slop to beef jerky, precious woodland creatures seek shelter in nearby forests in order to escape the excruciatingly painful noises your mouth produces. You have an uncanny ability to smack a tiny piece of food into a slishy sloshy dance of putrid vileness. You should know that feedsters find your eating habits to be so objectionable that they automatically mute or change the channel whenever you're within 10 yards of the kitchen. I don't know if Dr. Drew has a facility for people like you, but please, I beg of you, go somewhere and seek help for your disgusting habit. My sympathy goes out to your poor wife who has to deal with this on a daily basis. Do all the restaurants in New Jersey have a photo of you in the window and a sign underneath it that reads, "DO NOT SERVE THIS MAN"? You're like a monkey in a zoo - the public shouldn't be allowed to feed you.

#2 You will never be famous. You chose to go on a summer reality show where you're every move (repulsive and offensive) is monitored and analyzed. Not one person has been able to parlay this experience into a career of monumental fame and fortune. If you're lucky, you'll get to do porn and maybe write a blog giving your opinion on future seasons. You'll have a few months where you can attend a charity gig or two, put some of your shit on eBay, and then maybe fly to Seattle to do a dimly lit basement interview with Chelsia. Other than that, you'll be a distant memory to the general CBS viewing public. Sure, the nutty overzealous fans who live for this shit will tweet you constantly and beg you to follow them, but James Cameron isn't going to be calling you anytime soon and Scorsese does not want your input on his new HBO series. No one will buy your silly catch phrase t-shirts (just ask Captain Kosher how his sales are going) and your bar tour will only happen if the 3 or 4 desperate BB hangers-on fans fund it by driving you everywhere themselves.

Big Brother is simply a wonderful and unique experience that you were lucky to be a part of. Only the very likable and charismatic (Jeff, Kevin, Lydia, Janelle, Will, and probably Kristen and Ragan) are able to supplement their incomes with BB side projects that are worthwhile (Sorry, but porn doesn't count Ass Licker). If you can give awareness to some charities, great! Just remember that "Enzo Palumbo" is not a charity. There are far more important causes and/or talented people more deserving of dollars than you. Raise your daughter, be a good father, and learn how to chew with your mouth closed - that's my advice for a successful future.

#3 You are a homophobic asshole. When you're sitting around making idle chitchat and you wonder where Ragan might be, saying he's off somewhere sticking a bottle up his ass simply because he's gay might not be the most intelligent of remarks. In fact it's insulting, childish, and offensive. The shit you say isn't funny and I've noticed that in the house those off color remarks are almost always met with silence. Even Lane and Hayden (not the brightest bulbs in the tanning bed) know that your comments are questionable. Ragan is ten times the man you'll ever be Enzo. He's funnier, smarter, and has more charisma in his pinky toe than you do in your entire body. I don't know if your comments stem from pure hatred or are simply lame attempts at being funny. Either way, they're unappreciated and you've managed to piss off a whole slew of BB fans. Well done.

#4 You suck, yo. For almost 90 days now, I've watched you let other people take risks and do the dirty work for you. You've spent countless hours talking and wishing and hoping that you'll win something yet you never exerted the effort to make it happen. You threw comps, avoided confrontation, and idly sat by while others figured out strategy and made power moves. When it finally came time for you to actually apply yourself and try to win something, feedsters were forced to listen to you make profound statements like "We need to win this yo" and "I can feel it. This HOH is ours yo." You're the only person I know to have a negative effect on the Law of Attraction. It's like in Dead Poets Society when Robin Williams tells that one kid he's the only person to get a negative score on the Pritchard Scale. It's as if the more you talked, the more the universe turned it's head and said, "No, thank you."

#5 You got lucky and I'm damn mad about it. It kills me that you managed to get as far as you did. Worse still, CBS is giving you a decent edit and America's Favorite still isn't out of the question. These facts coupled with my own bitterness over having to stomach you for the past 10 weeks has made me very very angry. If you walk away with any of the prize money, I'm locking myself in my basement and shoving bamboo shoots under my nails. It'll be like that time when Keesha won the $25,000. I still haven't recovered from the self-inflicted appendicitis. I thought bleach and Pepto-Bismol would do the trick. All it did was give me cramps and make my pee a pretty neon pink color. When undeserving people like you and Bristol Palin get rewarded with fat checks, I become a danger to myself and society and no one, not even my precious white doggie is safe. I dyed her black as a symbol of my mourning for BB12 and she's staining my sheets now. My legs are covered in black streaks and I look like a swamp person. Thanks Enzo, thanks.

Well, I heard somewhere that the Feeds are going to be down for a while due to tomorrow's eviction. That means no blog tomorrow and a big naughty party at my place. If you guys can bring me some new sheets and some exfoliating mitts, I'd be very appreciative. The theme of this party is going to be Sons Of Anarchy in honor of the premiere tonight so bring your leather and your tattoo guns. I plan of marking each and every one of you with a "LALA WAS HERE" tat by the end of the night.

So, how much will you hate your lives if Enzo wins anything whatsoever? After Britney leaves, who do you want to win the entire season? If I drink Raid mixed with Febreze on finale night, will my senses be dulled enough to stomach the presentation of the check? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

If you've enjoyed what I've done here this season (the blood, sweat, and tears), please click on my PayPal button and show your girl some love. Thanks bitches!

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Send In The Clowns

Throughout history there have been many important influential groups of people. Scientists, doctors, artists, peacemakers, designers, numerologists, television producers... people who made this world what it is today. Since nature and the cosmos and all that crap is about balance, with the good must come the bad. The flipside of the aforementioned great and inconolastic people would be the members of the buffoon category. Merriam Webster defines buffoon as "a gross and usually ill-educated or stupid person". Buffoons are the court jesters of our time. They exist solely for our amusement. They're not like comedians or talented circus performers delighting audiences with flights of fancy. No, they're more like the one-eyed freak with a limp who rubs feces all over himself and sings 'Row Row Row Your Boat' to no one in particular. You point and laugh at them, but there's like no way you're hanging out and renting Huit Femmes together. Buffoons can actually live very happy and contented lives... only because they really don't know any better. They have no idea the world laughs at them and, in their case, ignorance is definitely bliss. Once in a while it's fun to come across a buffoon and get a few giggles in, but to be stuck watching one for hours and hours and hours on end... ummm nuh uh. Not a good time at all. You know what's even worse? Three buffoons in one house together for almost 90 days. Oy vey. Lord help us all. Let's recap, shall we?

OK so Hayden is HOH and he's chosen to nominate Lane and Britney for eviction. No surprises there. Hayden can win against any of these fools, but it's Enzo that he has a special love for. The POV is the only hope Britney has at this point. She can remove herself from the block, Enzo goes up, and then is sent home with Britney being the sole vote. *sigh* It's a pretty fairy dusted fantasy, isn't it? Sprites would come out to play, pipe smoking garden gnomes would shatter their ceramic exteriors and dance jaunty jigs, and tiny little puppies would leap out of rivers and mangle 16 yr old Bosnian girls to death. The world would finally make sense and empty apologies from Annie might actually mean something.

Alas, a marshmallow world with rainbows darting across the sky and rivers made of chocolate just wasn't meant to be I guess. Hayden has won the POV and I weep thick salty tears for all that could have been. I'm depressed now. I'm Sylvia Plath stuck in the Bell Jar depressed. I'm Anne Sexton, Susanna Kaysen, and The Cure all wrapped up into one ball of dark and brooding nothingness. I'm going to wear lots of black eyeliner, go days without washing my hair, and maybe carve unintelligible symbols into my arms and legs. I don't think Prozac or Zoloft are going to bring me out of this funk. I'm thinking more along the lines of Halcion, Thorazine, and whatever that drug was that killed Nick Drake. Out of depression always come mania which means I'll probably start buying a whole bunch of shit I don't need like knick knacks from yard sales and floppy straw hats. I'll carelessly sleep around with people I picked up at the Home Depot purely out of boredom. After all the reckless shenanigans I'll get myself into - like shaving the neighbors dog and putting ratty purple extensions in my hair - I'll take a Ritalin or maybe a Focalin and begin the organizational phase of my madness. I'll inventory my paper clips and cotton balls, ziploc baggy each and every pair of socks, and maybe keep a detailed journal of all the buttons I own. *sigh* It's exhausting just thinking about all the planning that goes into having a proper breakdown. Eh, who am I kidding? I'll probably just write nasty blogs and crawl into bed to watch my Sons Of Anarchy DVD's. I'm too lazy to have a honest to goodness psychological breakdown over BB12.

Hayden's big hairy plan is to keep the nominations the same, but first he wants to tell Britney all about the Bra-gade. Hayden thinks it'll impress her and put her at ease about going home the week before the finale. Enzo and Lane smile and nod thinking it's the best idea ever in the history of ideas - it's even better than meatballs and Right Guard. Of course Britney will be in awe over their genius. Why, I'm sure she'll name her first child "Bra-gade" and teach him to not only eat with his mouth open, but to also never cut his bangs and beat up people whenever the urge strikes. Yeah, I'm pretty sure Britney will thank them and make pretty rings of posies to place atop their giant meaty heads. She'll don a flowy chiffon gown and skip around the background throwing rose petals here and there in celebration. She'll dance and twirl amongst waterfalls and swaying trees, butterflies will flutter about her smiling face, frogs will turn into princes, and we'll all live happily after ever. Yup, that's exactly what's gonna happen.

Britney leaves the DR and heads up to the HOH where the Bra-gade has strategically seated themselves about the room. They want Britney to sit on the bed for maximum impact. They must think that being a girl she'll need a pillow to cuddle with or something. She falls into their trap and lies down on the bed only to be greeted with an uncomfortable silence. Enzo makes nervous chitchat and Lane focuses really hard on his fingernails. Hayden runs to the bathroom to look for his brush and change his clothes. He knows this conversation will make the CBS show and he wants to be ready. Britney rests her head in her hand and picks at her fingernail polish while the cowardly lions fidget with whatever is within arm's reach. Seriously, I'm watching this right now on my DVR and if this was a movie it would be called "How To Be A Pussy And Never Influence People".

Enzo finally breaks the ice and asks, "Who do you think has played the best game in Big Brother?" Britney says it depends on the season. Each season required a different sort of game play. Lane asks, "Um who do you think played the best game for this season?" Initially Britney doesn't answer and then she says that Hayden has played the best competitively and socially. This back and forth exchange of inconsequential silly questions continues while Enzo plays with a corkscrew. He won't look Britney in the eye so he laughs and says, "Uh who were you in an alliance with Lane? I know who I was in an alliance with. I was in an alliance with a few people." Lane wiggles around in his chair and giggles... "Uh I don't know bro, who were you in an alliance with?" Enzo replies and chuckles, "I don't know yo. I was definitely in an alliance with someone." Seriously, it's the most ridiculous exchange of cowardice I've ever seen. They're being flippant and silly doing the whole wink wink nudge nudge thing while Britney lies there probably wondering what the hell they've been smoking. It's Romper Room and Yo Gabba Gabba, not Big Brother. Had a sippy cup entered the picture, I wouldn't have been surprised.

Finally, Enzo says, "It was Hayden, Lane, and Matty since Day 2. We named it and gave ourselves nicknames." Britney picks at a piece of peeling nail polish and says, "What was it called?" Enzo replies, "The Brigade yo!" and then bursts into a fit of giggles. Lane interjects, "No GB's for the BG's! No goodbyes for the Brigade." Britney shrugs her shoulders, wishes she had a nail file, and says, "Well, the Brigade fucked Matty up." Enzo tells her they had to because Matty was "The Brains". He squeezes the corkscrew a few more times and says, "This is history yo. Personally, for me, I think it's greatness." Britney raises an eyebrow and an awkward silence fills the room. Enzo extracts more brain power from the corkscrew and goes on to try to explain why the Brigade is better than Benjamin Franklin, Madame Curie, and Jonas Salk combined. He's sure statues will be erected in his honor - maybe something like Rocky on the steps to the Philadelphia Art Museum or that giant grotesque eyeball in Chicago.

Enzo continues to try to convince Britney that the Brigade is groundbreaking and she just kind of lies there and picks her teeth. Britney, this is why I love you. Those knuckleheads thought you'd drop your jaw and either cry or get down on your knees and worship them. Instead, you sat there and wondered if you had enough nail polish to get you through to Thursday. Thank you Britney, thank you. I'm sending you a fruit basket and the entire Fall line from O.P.I. as soon as you get out.

When I woke up in the middle of the night last night and saw Twitter blowing up over everyone freaking out about the big Brigade revelation I thought, "Oh shit... this is gonna be off the hook!" In reality, it was the most uneventful and mortifying (for Enzo and Lane) scene I've ever wtinessed. They might as well have told Britney that it might be cloudy tomorrow. I swear to god, she could care less! She tells them no one will really be shocked and that it was kind of obvious they were all working together. Enzo, prepare yourself for a similar reaction when you leave the house. America will not love you. America will not quote you. We'll quickly forget about you and thank our lucky stars that we never have to listen to your Jersey nonsense ever again. My only regret is that you're not around to see the hate you're getting right this second. Enzo, precious, people hate you now more than Rachel. Can you even compute how monumental that is? Rachel was enemy #1 for about 6 weeks. You've singelhandedly managed to undo all the hate and hellfire she spewed and, in turn, you've covered yourself with it.

I also hear that Enzo has been hurling homophobic slurs about Ragan. Now, I haven't witnessed it myself, but I promise I'll look into it and maybe dedicate an entire blog post to it. This next week will be a big bore fest and I'll need something to write about so, Enzo, I'm coming for you buddy.

So, how lackluster was that revelation? Was Britney's nonreaction priceless or what? Can we somehow send Enzo back to Italy when he gets out of the house? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

UPDATE: Right after I posted this, I see that Britney finally broke down and cried. I blame the relentless effort to try to impress her with the knowledge of the Brigade. Had they just told her and let it go it wouldn't have been a big deal. Instead they kept pushing and pushing and pushing trying to get the reaction they wanted out of her which was not only cruel but unnecessary. Team Britney!

Friday, September 3, 2010

Take My Bones... PLEASE!

It's hot. The heat is sweaty, sticky, sweltering, and thick. It's like Louisiana heat or Mississippi heat. It's the heat that belongs in tightly packed churches with ladies in fancy hats fanning themselves. It's lovely to read about like in To Kill A Mockingbird where the women bathed 3 tmies a day and wilted like soft talcum covered teacakes. Heavy, languid, suffocating heat sounds romantic on the page, but, in reality, I'm seriously considering a career as an Eskimo. Eskimos are always smiling and I'm pretty sure they must know something I don't. Maybe clubbing seals and wearing fur year round really is the secret to happiness. I don't know. What I do know is that spending the summer watching some big headed uninteresting untalented worthless people putter around a house and say moronic things most definitely isn't the smartest way to spend a summer. I am incredibly angry at Big Brother and I feel violated, raped, and ignored. I spend hundreds of hours of my life watching and writing about Big Brother so I tend to take it personally when I'm given nothing to work with or care about. I have wasted the summer of 2010 and I'm pissed off about it. Let's recap, shall we?

I'm not going to mince words here. Big Brother 12 is the worst Big Brother in the history of Big Brother's all over the world. The reason I watch this show in the first place isn't for the competitions. Hell, it's not even for the strategy. The reason I watch is for the FIGHTS. Delicious fist biting fights where insults are hurled and someone is left crumpled on the floor in tears. I want my participants ballsy and impulsive. I want people not scared to stick up for themselves or speak their minds. Clever turning of a phrase and hotheaded convictions are bonuses I'll devour like a succulent lobster claw dipped in butter. I live for chest bumps, shrill voices, teeth gritting, and evil well thought out plans of sabotage. Stifled paranoid cautious personalities do not a successful reality show make. Hyper awareness of cameras and constant musings over potential stardom are not only infuriating, but it makes the season pretty much intolerable.

The "let's hold hands and be friends" mentality of the HG's is nothing more than one big giant fun sucking tumor that's draining my happiness levels and turning me into a pinched and bitter (albeit lovely) viewer. While watching the live show last night and discovering that the HOH competition would roll over onto the Feeds, I furrowed my brow, sighed long and deep, and begrudgingly turned on my Real Player. Pushing a single fucking button has never been more difficult or painful. A single Demi Moore Ghost tear trickled down my face as I prepared to listen to 4 idiots do whatever it is they do to entertain themselves. I think I'd rather watch the English Patient on a constant loop for the next 60 years rather than have to endure these final days of Big Brother 12.

As a matter of fact, let's talk about all the things I'd rather do than watch Big Brother 12. Yes, this might be fun. Let's see, I'd rather sit in the DMV next to a large smelly woman in a purple muumuu suffering from acid reflux than listen to Enzo talk about how famous he'll be. I think that watching Temple Grandin in French on a scratchy DVD sounds euphoric rather than witnessing Hayden brush his man bangs this way and that. I'd rather stick a rusty shish kabob skewer covered in black widow spiders and red fire ants into my pancreas than have to watch Lane readjust his gigantically goofy trucker hat one more time. You know, I used to fear the possibilty of being a viable bone marrow donor for a friend or family member in need (I hear it's the most painful procedure ever). Now, I'll happily let anyone drill as many holes as they want into my lovely bones. You want a chunk of femur? Go ahead and take it. How about a nice piece of my tibia? Forget the pain meds just drill baby drill. While you're at it, how about removing my spleen with a spoon that's been sitting in a roach infested sink for 3 months? Pour battery acid into my eyeballs and attach little electrical nodes to my nipples.... sounds like heaven to me as long as I don't have to hear the word "Steamboat" ever again.

Do you know that last year I used to wake up late because I was up all night on the Feeds? I'd rush to my kitchen and quickly throw together something that resembled a breakfast then I'd run to my laptop and write and write and write lengthy neverending posts about how Kevin was the wittiest smartest player ever or how Lydia was unleashing all kinds of gorgeous crazy on Ass Licker. I didn't have half the readers I have this year but I enjoyed what I did. I would literally schedule trips to the grocery store or the post office to when the Feeds were down and the HG's were having a comp. I remember setting up my laptop on top of my treadmill and then almost breaking my neck leaping off to take notes when I saw Russell crawling on his stomach for a secret meeting with Ronnie. Each week I had a fight or a heated argument to cover. Every single day was overflowing with strategy and ingeniously conceived lies.

You wanna know how this year is going? I'm in bed by 11:00 PM and up by 7:30 AM. I take my time brewing one perfect cup of coffee and chopping uniformly symmetrical pieces of melon for breakfast. I walk the dog and wave hi to the neighbors. When I head back home a large pout begins to form on my face. I suddenly grip the dog leash really tight causing my hand to turn an interesting shade of purple and, more often than not, I'll just out of nowhere kick an innocent squirrel breaking open an acorn. When I arrive at my front door I stop and I just stand there and stare. I know that the second I open that door I'm going to have rack my brain searching for ways to make BB12 interesting. I know that as soon I step over that threshold the whimpering will begin - not from the dog, from me. Quiet little staccato whimpers as I uncomfortably hunch over my keyboard and resentfully make a blog post. I HATE BIG BROTHER 12!!!!!!!! I hate that I whine about it. I hate that I sometimes skip days purely out of anger. I hate that as my writing gets better, the feeds get worse. I'm convinced it's all an evil plan the universe has concocted just to piss me off. I don't like coming on here and complaining. I swear, I don't, but sometimes I just can't help it. The show I love so much and I sacrifice my summers for every year has now made me feel like a sucker. I've passed up trips to watch this crap. I'm such a moron.

Alright, enough of my bitching. Hayden is our new HOH and Lane is just now realizing he probably made a $500,000 mistake by getting rid of Ragan. There is no way Lane can win this season unless he gets to the Final 2 with Britney. Keeping Ragan and jumping ship on that lame ass Brigade alliance would have increased Lane's chances of winning. Instead, he now has to worry about Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber going after Britney. Lane fucked up big time and he knows it. Enzo and Hayden are coming, guns blazing, after Britney.

Everyone comes to the consensus that Hayden is going to win this entire game. I've been saying that for weeks now and it's doubly sickening that these yahoos are actually all ok with it. They had a chance to get rid of the one player everyone likes and they blew it. Hayden almost deserves to win based on their collective stupidity alone. Personally, I want Britney to win, but I just don't see that happening. I'm a realist and, as a result, I'm not only depressed, but I've resigned myself to the fact that a Brigade member is going home a half a million dollars richer.
The Brigade realizes this fact too so they continued to plan their post BB road to stardom. Enzo thinks he'll have a t-shirt empire or be the next Tom Cruise and Hayden is convinced he can get a job interviewing fighters of some sort. I'm just going to say this once - if any one of my blog readers buys a t-shirt from Enzo or pays to see these knuckleheads in person, I will personally hunt you down, gut your pets, and weld a dunce cap to your head. You'll be banned for life from my Bitchy world and every time you leave your house you'll see me sitting on your mailbox or perched in one of your trees pointing and laughing at you. Anyone who goes into the BB house and spends 90% of their time planning how famous they're going to be deserves to be kicked in the nuts and ignored for eternity. It's not only a disgrace to the game, but it's a disgrace to humanity. When Enzo, Hayden, and Lane set up their Twitter accounts, I better not see you guys kissing their asses and telling them how wonderful they are. Nothing drives me more crazy than watching fans spend a season bashing someone and then immediately kiss their asses as soon as they begin tweeting. I've seen it with Chima and Jessie and it's mind boggling how comfortable people are in their own hypocrisy. Personally, the only people I'm interested in making contact with are Ragan and Britney... and maybe Kathy. I wasn't all that nice to Kathy in the beginning of the season, but I grew to love Kathy Faye and her tall tales of cabin life. If she can see the humor in how I portrayed her, then she's one cool lady... Dragon Lady, that is.

Back in the house Britney gets called to the DR and Lane begins to regale the boys with his Julie Chen stories. Apparently, whoever was preparing Lane for his HOH Chenbot interview kept telling him, "You're a star! You're a star!". Oy vey. Enzo eats it up with a spoon and Hayden smiles through his obnoxious hair. Lane tells them how Julie actually said the word "Brigade" to him and how cool he felt in that moment. The three musketeers giggle and decide to up the prices on their Brigade World Tour. They continue to reminisce about the live show and Lane actually says, "My tattoo looked cool on TV." The other yahoos agree and they sit around very pleased with themselves. *sigh* They repulse me. With every fiber of my being, I'm repulsed. It's bad enough they think they're somebodies now, but the fact that they're talking about it knowing we're all watching is even worse. Look, if you think BB is going to make you famous and you're gonna milk it for all it's worth, don't fucking talk about it ad nauseum over and over again when possibly thousands of people are watching you! Are you truly that stupid?

So, will you continue to watch if Britney loses POV? Will Enzo ever star in a Scorcese film? How much are you looking forward to Survivor right about now? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

If you've enjoyed what I've done here this season, please click on my PayPal button and show your girl some love. I need to buy Prozac... lots and lots of Prozac.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Dear Annie,

I woke up this morning and thought to myself, "What in the sam hell am I going to talk about on the blog today?" I crawled out of bed, took the dog for a walk, kicked some acorns on the ground, ate an overpriced muffin from Whole Foods, and then stared blankly out the window begging for inspiration to come. Sitting with my chin in my hand, I sighed lazily and scratched at a mosquito bite on my leg. Should I make up something about Lane and Hayden making sweet love to each other last night? Should I write about how Rachel and Brendon have probably sacrificed Matt to some ancient fertility god? Maybe I should talk about how I've hired an Israeli commando named Ziva to blow up the Big Brother house... *sigh* While I waited for the muses to molest me I turned on my laptop to check my email and see what was shakin' on Twitter. Maybe, just maybe, Ragan had made a fabulous pelt out of Enzo's skins or possibly someone somewhere said something stupid and I can call 'em out on it. I loaded my Twitter screen, took a look at the morning tweets, and all of a sudden a slow knowing smile crept across my face. Score! I am suddenly inspired. Let's recap, shall we?

Way back when, in the olden timey days of BB12, I picked my personal favorite for the season. It's a little tradition I do every year and it's not something I take lightly. I base my blog fave purely on pre-interviews and bios. First thing I do is look for telltale signs of douchebaggery and little hints that someone may or may not have an extra chromosome. Those people are immediately crossed off the list never to be considered again. Secondly, I make colorful and complicated flow charts and diagrams. I crunch some numbers, I consult astrologists, and at the end of my laborious research I narrow in on someone whom I feel I can 100% support no matter what. Last year my pick was Lydia and she paid off in spades. Lydia was colorful, hysterical, wore shiny space-like futuristic pants, and called Ass Licker a bipolar tranny. She wasn't scared to speak her mind, dump out someone else's beer, or construct intricate make-out tents in the HOH. Lydia is what all HG's should aspire to be - ENTERTAINING.

For BB12, my task was strenuous and labor intensive. No one person lept off the screen to me like Lydia had. The guys were boring, the gals were typical, and, looking back on it, I should have known then and there that this would be the worst season in Big Brother history. I trudged forward though. I wiped the sweat from my brow, went without showering for days, and smoked cigarette after cigarette as I hurled crumpled bits of unsatisfactory notes about the room. My diet consisted solely of broken pencil bits, post-it's, and Sharpie caps. My hair was a wild tangled mess with paper clips sticking out every which way and thumb tacks embedded into various parts of my skull. The BB12 premiere date was rapidly approaching and I still didn't have my favorite.

It was the day before the premiere and I knew I had to make a decision. Rachel's video was phony and loud. Kathy's voice made my brain bleed. Ragan could either be really likable or really annoying. In the end, I took the safe route and settled on one Miss Annie Whittington. She was personable enough, seemed headstrong, and Chelsia kept saying how much she liked her. I know, I know, what the hell was I thinking agreeing with anything Chelsia thought? So, I picked Annie, gave her a nice little write up, and spent the first 7 days of my recaps defending her. Sure, she could be a little loquacious and didn't know when to shut the hell up, but I thought maybe she was just overexcited at being in the house. True personalities never really emerge until about the 2 week mark so I forgave Annie and chalked it up to early onset Big Brother jitters. Little did I know that Annie was actually the poster girl for insecurity with a doctorate in immaturity.

I've been following Annie on Twitter for several weeks now and it's a lot like what I said the other day about how Ass Licker fans must be so disappointed everyday of their lives. When someone you like or admire turns into a psychotic nutbar, it's only a matter of time before you question them on it or abandon ship. Initially, I turned a blind eye when Annie tweeted some of these gems...

The game is 90% luck and a popularity contest dumbass

(Translation: This game kicked my dumb ass in the nuts!)

If i have to block one more person...

(Translation: No one ever in the history of the entire world is allowed to disagree with me. Fuck off. I hate you all. Why doesn't anyone love me?)

Could the people who go bi-polar writing me horrible messages on eBay get a friggin' life? Don't you get it... I DON'T CARE!!

(Translation: This is really a tweet to get you to look at my eBay auctions. Maybe I'll trick you into bidding on my overpriced sombrero.)

PS obviously I don't need fashion advice from an administrative assistant looking blondie! And some advice, quit flirting while you're engaged.

(Translation: Britney is so much better than me and I hate her! My turtleneck flip-flops are fashion forward. Why doesn't anyone get that??)

It all came to a head this morning when Annie continued to tweet her jealous obsession of Britney. I dared to call her on it and she blocked me. This is how I choose to respond:

Dear Annie,

I went into this season wanting to like you. I supported you from Day 1 and thought your game ended way too soon. Bitchy Blog readers weren't always your fans, but I managed to warm some of them up to the fact that you were probably cool in person. Then, unfortunately, you started to tweet. Bitter jealous insecure tweets about how Britney was still in the game and you weren't. I wondered if maybe Britney had done something horrible to you, but after I saw how you began to block each and every person who dared to disagree with you I knew that deep down inside you're a woman with an extraordinary amout of unresolved issues.

Never has someone been so transparently awful in 140 characters. This morning you went on a little rant about how Britney wanted all girls in the end and how, because she got rid of you, her entire game has suffered. Uh, sweetie pie, the entire house got rid of you not just Britney. Does the fact that Britney is still in the house keep you up nights? Do the miserable failures of your eBay auctions with the obnoxious reserve prices not tell you how the public now perceives you? Does the phrase "you catch more flies with honey than vinegar" not compute? I see how right after I tweeted you you deleted the offensive Britney tweets. That was smart and good on you for doing that. Blocking me and everyone else who saw them and bothered to question your motive, however, was something my 3 year old niece would do. Actually, she'd probably flick off the tweeters and stick her tongue out at them. Blocking them all would be a waste of her time as she actually has shit to do like watch Dora and show off her new sparkly non-turtleneck gold sandals.

Sugar tits, you need to realize that no hardcore BB fan wants to hear running insecure commentary from someone who was evicted from the house in WEEK 1. You had the opportunity of a lifetime being the Saboteur and you blew it because you're an attention hungry gal with very little self-esteem. You had so much potential and you pissed it away by running your mouth. Had you been normal, diplomatic, and radiated a good attitude about the season you wouldn't find yourself bombarded with people questioning your sanity and your angry tweets. Hell, you might have even gotten a bid or two on eBay. Instead, you spend your time obsessing over Britney and blocking anyone who doesn't fawn all over you. It's kind of like watching Neely O'Hara in Valley Of The Dolls spin out of control and turn on the very people who made her famous in the first place. You know what happened to Neely, don't you? She ended up in a Sanitarium screaming incoherantly and scratching at the walls wondering where it all went wrong.

So, Annie, here's what I'm gonna do... I'm going to give you some very valuable advice that could quite possibly make your post-BB life just a tad more enjoyable.

#1 Stop tweeting about how you'd play the game better than all the other HG's combined. You're a crap BB player who blew the chance of a lifetime so, seriously, who wants to hear anything strategic you have to say?

#2 Get over your Britney obsession. You knew her for a week my dear. Spiteful jealous HG's will very quickly find themselves alone and forgotten and, sweet cheeks, you're half way there.

#3 Yelling and blocking your fans and supporters might not be the best idea. Who knows? You might get entire blog posts dedicated to how awful you are in return. Also, did you know that some of your fans have contacted me saying that they were defending you yet you still blocked them? You're making enemies who could have otherwise been your friends!

#4 Be happy and grateful that you had a unique experience that not many people get. Sure, you went out in a blaze of failure, but if you're gracious and pleasant to be around you'll find yourself with a lot of lovely fans willing to follow you on your journey and offer support whenever they can.

#5 Stop trying to be something you're not. You're not a clever snarky wit like some fabulous bloggers are and your jabs at people are neither funny nor true - they're simply catty and malicious. You're also not a notoriously evil villain like Ronnie so stop trying to act like you are. You're simply a person who's mad she didn't get the love (or bids) she wanted so now you're taking it out on your fans.

Look, I'm sorry your game didn't turn out well. I was really truly rooting for you and I was also more than willing to help you get some post BB love from my readers. Instead, like an ornery dog who can't get laid, you pissed all over everything trying to mark territory that doesn't belong to you. You can delete your tweets and block people to your heart's desire, but ask yourself if shutting people out is really the best way to go in life? As an opinionated person, I sometimes get hate messages too. You know what I do? I post them ALL. I never block a comment disagreeing with me or calling me names. I figure if someone has taken the time to write to me, good or bad, then it deserves to be seen. I actually learned that from Alexis Stewart (daughter of Martha). She gets bombarded with vile hateful comments every single day yet she prints them all and gets more readers because of it. Just laugh at the comments. Don't take them personally. Some might be childish and malicious (that comes with the territory when you're a public person), but some might actually contain some good advice. If you make everyone scared to even talk to you, you're going to find yourself awfully alone in this world.

I do wish you the best Annie just please stop acting like a child who didn't get a cookie. It's unbecoming and makes you look, quite frankly, like a monumental douche bag.

Love and other indoor sports,
Colette Lala

Monday, August 30, 2010

Lords Of The Dance

Like Sarah Jessica Parker in Girls Just Want to Have Fun... I love to dance. My one guilty pleasure in life (other than opium, gin, glitter, little people, and gratuitous violence) is dance movies. As a matter of fact, when I'm rich and famous from my bestselling novel Eat, Bitch, Fuck, I'm gonna start a basic cable station that plays nothing but dance movies on a constant loop... Center Stage, Coyote Ugly, Fame (the original), Save The Last Dance, Footloose, Flashdance, Staying Alive (the best movie ever made I'll have you know), etc. You know that feeling you get when you're at the theater and the curtain lifts and the music swells? Your heart begins to flutter, a rush of emotion takes over your body, and you wait with bated breath to be delighted. That's how I feel when there's a dance sequence in a movie. So imagine my glee when Big Brother announced that the newest and last "punishment" from Lane's Pandora's Box is that the HG's must dance for one minute every hour. I envisioned buff bodies in leotards leaping and pirouetting across the backyard while Britney floated in the air on Lane's shoulders kicking her legs this way and that. I thought at the very least I'd get headbands, legwarmers, and pointe shoes. My jete pas de bourree jazz hands dream was not to be. Instead I got a lot of marching in place, raising the roof, and clenched fists. Let's recap, shall we?

OK so let's begin by talking about last night's Big Brother show... which I watched after the Emmys and fell asleep half way through. Lane won HOH and everyone in the house and on Twitter are now all ticked off that Lane comes from money. Former HG's were commenting about Lane's finances and the same hypocrites who hated Ragan's "most deserving" speeches began mouthing off on how Lane now doesn't "deserve" to win because he already has money. Did Big Brother become a charity program that I'm not aware of? I didn't realize that Big Brother is now some kind of scholarship or welfare institution. I don't give a shit if a player is a multi billionaire and lives on a private island in the Bahamas. If the player is the best at competitions and strategy, then that player deserves to win the game. To say Lane shouldn't win just because he already owns a house and his dad has airplanes is moronic. Lane shouldn't win because he's a crap player who bores me to tears. That's why he shouldn't get the money not because he has a mortgage to pay.

Watching Annie, of all people, sit in judgment and analyze game play out of bitterness is most disappointing. I was on her side. I was ready to defend her. She only lasted a week, but I would have given her publicity and helped her out with whatever future endeavor she had. I hate it when I like someone and then they do something stupid to make me scratch my head and go, "Really? You just said that?". I get that way sometimes over Elizabeth Wurtzel. I'll get all excited to read a new article she's published only to discover it's a thousand word elitist rant written out of jealousy. I'll push it to the back of my head, chalk it up to a lapse in judgment, and try to forget I ever read it. It's when it happens over and over and over again that you're forced to say to yourself, "Maybe she's not that inspirational after all..." I imagine Ass Licker fans must experience that disappointing feeling everyday of their lives. It's kind of impossible to defend her anymore now that she's doing porn. I hate to say it (no I don't), but I told you so.

OK so back in the house Lane is having trouble trying to figure out who to put up in Enzo's place. If he puts up Britney, she's gonna get pissed off and Enzo could actually vote her out. If he puts up Hayden, he risks hurting his hairy friend's feelings. Britney gets word that she might go on the block and she's very quick to tell Lane that there's no way he can win against Hayden in the Final 2. She tells Lane that Hayden needs the money and that his family may have financial difficulties while Lane has a new house, a cushy job, and no monetary woes at all. I'll say what I said before, this stuff shouldn't matter, but to these chuckle heads it does. Britney has a point though when she says Lane could never beat Hayden in the end. Hearing this annoys Lane and the expression on his face the rest of the night is proof positive he is not a happy camper. He spent hours sitting in quiet contemplation looking stressed out and confused. If he wants to make a big move, he should just get rid of Hayden now and go ahead and make a Final 2 deal with Britney. He should stack that jury house with as many Bra-gade members as possible and skate his way to victory. The problem, of course, is that he's a total pussy. For someone so large who has no problem beating the shit out of people (uh yeah, I read that article too) he's unusually cowardly and cautious. The only way I can see Lane winning this game is if he gets rid of Enzo and Hayden and takes Ragan or Britney with him to the final. I'm pretty sure this little nugget has dawned on Lane as well because watching him sit with a pained look on his mug you just know he's wrestling with a difficult decision.

In the middle of all this tough game playing, Big Brother tells the HG's to dance whenever they hear the music. In the first paragraph I said I expected an exquisitely choreographed celebratory number that expressed the human struggle within. I wanted Michael Douglas sitting in the dark smoking a cigarette telling everyone they sucked. I wanted Bob Mackie costumes, wanton popping of Dexedrine pills, and clever overly sexual grinding and writhing ... or something like that. Here's what I got instead: five buffoons jauntily walking with nary a spirit finger in sight. Ragan and Britney actually gave it a good effort. Ragan would hump the kitchen counter while Britney strutted shaking her money maker in her Ugg boots. Enzo, on the other hand, morphed into a West Coast rapper pursing his lips and raising the roof. Lane did some sort of awkward skipping thing and you just knew that he was totally the Chris Penn character in Footloose who refused to dance at school functions. This leaves Hayden... strange and awkward Hayden. For some reason, the infectious beats turned Hayden into a majorette of sorts. He clenched his fists, stood up tall, and marched his way across the backyard. I don't know if he thought he was in a parade or what, but it was disturbing and made me concerned for his lovemaking skills.

Not much else happened and that's all I got for now. I'm not sure if I'll be able to post tomorrow. It all depends on whether or not my vajazzle appointment comes through. Until I return, I leave you with the best opening to any movie ever in the history of filmmaking. Please to enjoy:

So, who do you think will go up as the replacement nomination? Is there a chance Hayden goes home this week? Will Hayden ever be recruited by the American Ballet Theatre? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Sunday, August 29, 2010

This Is Mad Stupid Yo

There is a land far far away where all the boring people are sent. It's very similar to a leper colony and it's called Sock Puppet Land. If you ever find yourself listening to someone tell a story and you're thinking, "I really need to get some toilet paper at the grocery store.", chances are that person telling the story now lives in Sock Puppet Land. History professors, librarians, ladies who organize church bazaars... these are the type of people you'll find in the SPL. In Sock Puppet Land the wind doesn't blow, the sun doesn't shine, and nothing interesting happens... ever. It's always 60 degrees and overcast with a dankness in the air that makes one's hair limp and uninteresting. Activity time is sitting in groups under trees and reading Beowolf in silence. You've Got Mail plays on a constant loop in the movie theater and white rice is served in the cafeteria day in and day out. Ice cream is always vanilla and sex is, you guessed it, missionary. Khaki is the color du jour and the stereo only has one radio station... the Kenny G station. Not much of anything entertaining gets done in Sock Puppet Land. Days are spent sitting in cubicles answering phones and nights are spent organizing sock drawers and 409'ing the walls. All inhabitants are given sock puppets to wear on their hands because the powers that be think it'll make the population more interesting or something. *yawn* Of course, that plan didn't work and now, in addition to dish water hair and empty spice racks, the town has to contend with a bunch of dirty smelly socks on everyone hands. If you ever find yourself in Sock Puppet Land, I suggest you pray for a quick death because that's you're only way out. Let's recap, shall we?

First, let's discuss the awful wretched POV comp that more or less just ruined the next 2 weeks of my life. Ragan had to win this competition. He was gonna smoke everyone by figuring out the morphed faces or guessing what happened on which day. The only problem is... it was an Otev comp. Damn hairy balls of hell! Houseguests had to search for two names that were on CD's and then race up a slippery hill and offer the names to Otev. Eating with an open mouth and spouting off grand delusions may or may not have been part of competition as well because, yup, Enzo won the POV. Seriously? Seriously?! *pages Mr. O* Uh Mr. O'Shaugnessy, I'm going to need a sharp painful instrument... something medieval that's used on cattle or something. I'm thinking about plunging a rusty hook into my spleen or maybe digging the eggs out of my ovaries and spreading them on toast. I figure eating my future offspring is a fitting way to punish both myself and the world. I mean, come on, my kids would have been awesome. Little Lala's running around striking poses, pulling other kids hair, and making fun of children who parents make them go to church and go to bed without watching any TV would have been amazing. My kids would be raised in a house of DVD's, pimped out Satellite TV, and Barbie Dream Houses. If I ever had any boys, I'd send them back from whence they came. I'm not equipped to raise a male.... unless of course it was a gay child. I would absolutely love to raise a little flamboyant gay boy so he could shop for me, help out with the interior decorating, and do my hair when I'm in my 60's. Unfortunately, none of that will ever happen now. Instead I'm gonna eat my eggs and hang my fallopian tubes over the front door. It'll be a warning to visitors that love don't live here anymore.

So Enzo won and of course he won't shut up about it. It's not an Oscar, it's not a Nobel Peace Prize, it's not even one of those silly Fox Reality Awards. It's a freaking POV that took him 8 weeks to win. "I was meant to do this yo. This is goin' down in history yo. Bra-gade 'til you die yo. We're in the final 4 yo. The Meow Meow is in the final 4! Youse can't stop the Bra-gade yo." Oh shut the fuck up. America hates you and you will never be famous - so there! The patron saint of douchebags actually wanted to wear the POV necklace for the rest of the week. So obnoxious. You could also see the wheels turning in Hayden's hair... "Oh shit. Enzo won something and people like him. I might lose now. Wah wah wah." Lane is, on the other hand, indifferent and Britney is under some delusion that she's going to the Final 2 with him. Ragan is understandably depressed and Mr. O'Shaugnessy is crying in a corner because I just pulled out his chest hair with pliers. I am not a happy girl. I'm grumpy, snippy, and annoyed by everything. Yes, I'm very mature when I don't get my way.

In protest I turned off the Feeds and began to watch a shiny sparkly show that's new to me. Someone was kind enough to send me Season 1 of Sons Of Anarchy in the mail and, I gotta tell ya, joining a motorcycle club is now on my list of things to do.... right after I write my bestselling novel called Eat, Bitch, Fuck. How did I ever miss Sons Of Anarchy?! Very rarely do I push products or force shows on you good people, but I'm thinking Sons Of Anarchy is a new must. #1 is Spartacus: Blood and Sand and #2 is Sons Of Anarchy. I've conveniently added an Amazon link to the right. It's half price so do yourselves a favor and get onboard. I'm so in love with it, I'll even consider adding a Sons Of Anarchy Group over at the Bitchy Network. It's my understanding that the new season starts the first week of September on F/X. The guy in it is that British guy who played Embry in that pre-Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes movie Abandon. He's kinda dreamy and he calls people "Darlin'". He also just wrote a new movie about Vlad The Impaler that Brad Pitt is gonna produce. Love it. Charlie Hunnam is definitely one to watch. Mark my words.

OK so back in the Big Brother house Enzo is bragging, Ragan is contemplating, and everyone else is just puttering around. BB sees this as a the perfect opportunity to unleash the 2nd punishment of Lane's Pandora's Box. The houseguests now have to wear sock puppets on their hands. They're not allowed to talk without their sock puppets and the sock puppets mouths have to be moving when the HG's mouths are. If they fail to speak with their sock puppets, then they will all be Have-Not's. *pause* Sock puppets? This is what the BB producers came up with to entertain us? Did someone on the staff just catch a replay of What About Bob? and thought it would translate well to reality tv? It was funny when Richard Dreyfuss did it. It's not funny when Lane chooses to sleep rather than exert the effort.

Enzo, still on his high horse, turns the conversation to all things Final 2. He is absolutely convinced that a Bra-gade member has this whole game in the bag. He says there's no way they can lose now. They're gonna win everything from here on out and, if for some reason Britney makes it to the end, they'll still have the jury votes to win. Hayden isn't as enthusiastic and says nothing is a done deal yet. He says Matt plans on voting for who competed successfully and played the best. Enzo poo-poos that idea and says that everyone will vote for a Bra-gade member to win because Britney isn't well-liked amongst most of the Jury Members. I'd like to think that if the Final 2 was Britney and Enzo, that Britney would win hands down, no doubt about it. If anyone in the jury voted for Enzo over Britney they need to have their heads examined and be sent to Austria for some intense psychiatric study by a descendent of Freud. I simply refuse to believe that Enzo will win this game. Then again, when have I ever gotten my way when it comes to BB12?

The late night convo turned to discussions about Halloween costumes and who's more attractive: men or women. Enzo dominated the entire conversation while Hayden just lay there with his hair in his eyes and Lane crawled under the table to catch some Zzzz's. Britney tried to contribute, but Enzo's hand waving and constant "yo's" are a tough act to compete with. After Enzo told everyone their Halloween costumes were lame, he began to plan his nightclub tour. He thinks as a winner of BB12 he'll be a hot commodity and everyone will want to hang out with him. Uh no. No, Enzo, no no no. If you're lucky, you'll get a webcam show on Real Player and that's about it and, let's be honest, I highly doubt even that will happen. Once Big Brother is over, the general public really doesn't give a shit anymore. Sure, there's a tiny faction of nutty BB fans who make this crap their entire lives, but the majority of normal people really could give a rat's ass about what happens to former BB cast members. I'm of the mindset that if you look like an ass and do moronic things (a la Ass Licker), then, yes, I will make fun of you and call you out on your behavior (get ready Rachel), but otherwise I'm not gonna go to BB Meet and Greets and I'm sure as hell not going to buy your nasty shorts on eBay. That's a little weird and creepy. I can understand maybe buying a piece of the house or an outfit that was actually part of the game, but not an HG's dumb ass clothes. I mean, seriously, gimme a break.

So that's about it. That was yesterday. What did you guys think of Enzo winning POV? Do the sock puppets make you laugh or are they just lame? Would you ever pay to see Enzo shout "Yo!" and "Meow Meow!" in a club? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

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