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!

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!

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!

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

The Celestine Curse

Trolls, gremlins, rodents, douchebags... these are things that mess up Happy Land. Happy Land is a big dewy meadow located west of Hidden Valley (you know, the place with the ranch dressing). It's filled with wildflowers, butterflies, poppies, and precious fawns leaping over strategically placed stones and tree trunks. It's a magical place where all the mythological creatures of lore hang out and party. On a typical day in Happy Land, it's completely normal to go down to the stream filled with vodka and maybe pass a unicorn nibbling on grass or Dionysis feeding himself grapes. At the crystal waterfall, mermaids help the valkyries bathe while a dragon heats up the night's meal. It truly is a "happily ever after". For the past 85 weeks (yes, it feels that long), Happy Land has had a giant black cloud over it. With that cloud came evil grotesque beings who stunk up the place and made the satyrs not want to play their pipe flutes. Normally, the satyrs would play, the nymphs would dance, and an orgiastic celebration of nature would ensue. Summer in Happy Land should be a fun time. It should be glitter and fairies and giggling and marshmallows. Instead it was balls and boasting and sweaty crotches and giant neander-talls. Thankfully though, the madness is over and the annoying are gone. Matt had squeezed all the power he could out of his teeny tiny testicles and Brendon had whined his last exhausting whine. The brook began to babble again and a rainbow started to leak Skittles. Happy Land is almost back to normal. Let's recap, shall we?

Sorry about yesterday. I just didn't have too much to say and the thought of trying to force something out was exhausting. Yes, I'm thrilled with how Thursday played out. Ragan stepped up to the plate and I clapped and giggled like a "special" child watching a ball bounce. Matt was douchetastic as he sat hunched over on that couch and threw fist pump after fist pump into the air. Dude, you're not DMX. You're not Eminem. You're a tiny little delusional man child who's not the least bit cool. If you look at the Coolness Chart you'll see Matt ranked somewhere near Jon Gosselin and that guy who played Potsie on Happy Days. Brendon wasn't much better. He started out nice and normal and then he'd say something completely ridiculous having to do with Rachel and all normalcy would fly out the window. So yeah, I'm glad they're both gone. I was about sick of them anyways.

Lane is now HOH and all I can think is "What took you so long?". I'm not impressed it took him 8 weeks to pull out a victory and come to life. It's all a bit "too little too late" for me at this point. What's worse is that Lane is also looking out for Hayden. If Lane was smart, he'd pack the jury with Bra-gade members and take someone like Ragan or Britney with him to the Final 2. You know Rachel and Brendon sure as hell aren't voting for Ragan or Britney to win. Lane could potentially have a clean sweep in the final 2 if he took someone not so likable with him. Instead he wants to take shaggy no lipped Hayden. I think out of all the people left in the house Hayden is the one I want to win the least. Yes, that means I'm putting Enzo one notch above him. There's something about Hayden that strikes me as very selfish and dismissive. The way he treated Kristen for one. The speed in which he abandons his alliance at the first sign of danger is another. I think most of all it's the contentment he has in letting everyone else do the dirty work for him. Hell, even Enzo at least tries to win comps. Sure, he sucks at life and all that, but he's at least trying. The only time Hayden tries is when he has to and that bugs me. Also, if you look back over the entire summer, what has Hayden done that's been entertaining? I don't know about you, but I'm coming up with a goose egg. His preoccupation with how the public views him has turned him into a paranoid and uninteresting houseguest. Rewarding boring with a half a million dollars is nauseating.

Enzo is another story. He's under some misguided fantasy that Big Brother 12 is going to make him famous. I ask you, who out of all the past houseguests is what you can honestly call "famous"? None of them. Dr. Will isn't famous. My mother wouldn't know who the hell he was if he walked down the street. Evel Dick likes to think he's famous, but what the hell has he done that's worthwhile over the past 3 years? Ass Licker is a joke who has to take her clothes off and sleep around to get any attention whatsoever. Steven has sex for money and Chelsia hosts a show anyone can produce with a lightbulb and a camera. Big Brother will not make you a star. You'll be a name amongst feedsters, but that's really about it. Enzo's delusions about going on Howard Stern and thinking some random movie producer sitting at home is gonna cast him in his next big blockbuster are completely ludicrous. People hire professionals to act or sell their products not some douchebag on a summer reality show. Reality show fame is not the same as movie fame or musician fame. The only way someone can parlay Big Brother into something substantial is to have a prior talent/skill that can be honed and developed. The prior HG's making money all had backgrounds in their prospective fields. Will was a doctor and Boogie was a club/restaurant owner. Enzo is an insurance claims adjuster. Is he really going to up and move his family to L.A. to star in Goodfellas 2? Uh, no. Like all his "we gotta win this yo", Enzo is nothing more than talk. Annoying, delusional, fantastical talk.

The fact that Enzo thinks Scorcese is sitting at home watching Showtime and planning his next great opus around him is nothing short of lunacy. The fact that he thinks millions of people will buy Meow Meow t-shirts makes me want to get Nurse Ratched on the phone. What Enzo needs is a strong thorazine drip and some intensive daily therapy... preferably the kind with 2 electric pads on either side of his skull and an Austrian at the helm. When all this is said and done, he should go to Vegas, have fun, make a couple grand doing Real Player interviews, and then go back to Jersey and raise his kid. The bar tour and the t-shirt empire are not gonna happen and the sooner he realizes that, the happier he'll be.

The whole fame thing has always been one of my biggest problems with the Bra-gade. From the second they stepped into the house, they began planning their speeches for their Hollywood Walk Of Fame ceremony. Ragan and Britney have none of these delusions of grandeur and, as a result, will probably go on to lead very successful happy lives. Britney is smart, educated, and well-traveled. She'll get married, have some kids, and enjoy the occasional "Hey, weren't you on that tv show?" for the rest of her life. Ragan will go back to Academia, his podcasts will see a burst in listeners, and he'll continue to write thought provoking and interesting poetry. Big Brother will simply be an experience they'll look back on fondly.

OK so Lane has nominated Ragan and Enzo for eviction. The plan being to get Ragan out of the house. If Ragan wins POV, Lane will put Britney up citing that he can't go against his "boy" Hayden. The likelihood of Enzo going home is still a strong possibility though. For some reason, Hayden and Lane are convinced that Enzo can win the whole thing because he's so well-liked. If that means they'll vote him out, then great, go with that logic. What do I care? Enzo aurally raped me yesterday by eating beef jerky and I'm all traumatized and showering nonstop over it. The faster we get rid of him, the better. For 48 hours now all he's done is bitch and moan over how he hasn't won anything. He's not studying, he's not practicing, he's not going over the photos on the wall... he sits around eats with his mouth open and complains about how much he sucks. Look, Enzo, we already know you suck. You will never win anything. You're the only person to make both creative visualization and the law of attraction null and void. When you put something out into the universe it spontaneously combusts and comes back to Earth in the form of bird poop. You're the anti-Stephen Covey, the not Tony Robbins, the nuh uh Oprah moment. You're the 7 Habits Of Highly Moronic People, the Go Ahead And Sweat The Small Stuff, and the Celestine Curse. Enzo would bring a chill to sweat lodges and fart his way through a meditation retreat. He's everything self-help is not.

Ragan, on the other hand, is a studying fool! He knows he has to win this POV and he's going to prepare as much as he possibly can to do so. He's studied the faces on the wall backwards and forwards, he's memorized what happened on which day, and I'm pretty sure he's counted every single fiber of carpet in the house. He has spent hour after hour going over and over everything Big Brother. His studying paid off in the last POV comp and I'd be very surprised if it doesn't help him out again today. If Big Brother continues wanting the power to flip like it has all season long, then I'm predicting some sort of memory based game for the POV. BB always tries to twist things to whatever will create the most drama and Ragan staying in this house another week will do just that.

Another way Big Brother is trying to up the drama is with Pandora's Box. Lane opened it yesterday and claims that 3 bad things will be unleashed on the house. He says he got ninety some dollars out of it and it's all really very sketchy. All I know is that BB has taken away all the glasses and untensils and HG's are now drinking coke out of bowls and milk out of the container. I'm sure it's an inconvenience and all that, but to smarty pants viewers like me it's simply a desperate measure to create more drama. These last 2 weeks will be relatively drama free. Count on that. It's always boring when BB winds down, but this cast makes it even extra boring. It's going to be a lot of laying around and general uninspiring chitchat. I honestly don't know how I'll blog about it. I'll try my best to do it daily and make something up, but don't get pissed if I miss a day or two here and there. You can't force inspiration and the muses just aren't molesting me like they used to. I'll draft a very angry letter to the Fates and see if I can get my mojo back. I'll come up with something creative. You know me, when in doubt - make shit up. To be quite honest, I can't wait for this all to be over with and for Survivor to start. Make sure you bookmark and follow my Bitchy Survivor Blog so you don't miss any of the drama. I'll start posting my cast first impressions in the beginning of September.

So, what do you think of the nominations? Do you think Ragan and Britney have a chance to both stay or has Britney completely crossed over to the douche side? Does Howard Stern have the foggiest idea who Enzo is? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

7 Deadly Houseguests

A long long time ago in the olden timey days when thieves had their hands cut off for stealing loaves of bread and syphillis was as common as ADD, someone in a laboratory somewhere, possibly Siena or maybe Avignon, was hard at work coming up with a formula. He worked quietly and patiently in a dank cellar he had dug on the north end of his acreage. There were serfs, vassals, indentured servants, and all sorts of other people from my history classes puttering around doing chores of various importance, so Stuart, that's what we'll call this inventor, would work late at night by candlelight while everyone else was sleeping. He mixed all sorts of fragrant concoctions. Some had acacia, bayberry, and figwort while others had henbane, milk thistle, and vervain. Stuart wasn't casting a spell as yours truly is often wont to do. No, Stuart was searching for the origin of evil. *thunder clap* He thought if he found what made evil tick, then maybe he could banish it once and for all and not worry about his ladies in waiting whoring around or his footmen stealing an extra tomato here and there when he wasn't looking. After months of working through frigid winters and sweltering summers (his air conditioner was like totally broken), Stuart discovered that evil is much more complicated than he first thought. There wasn't simply one impetus that made evil so bad and not good. There were, in fact, seven. Yes, my dear readers, it's a little known fact that the Stuart in this tale is the Stuart who discovered the 7 Deadly Sins. *thunder clap* Now, why on earth would I be talking about the 7 Deadly Sins on a Big Brother Blog? Well, it's a simple as this: There are 7 houseguests left, not much went on yesterday, I thought 7 houseguests - 7 deadly sins... voila! My most ambitious blog post to date, my homage to Tyra Banks (name why this is an homage to Tyra in the comments and you're a big weiner!) Let's recap, shall we?

Stuart's first discovery was one he kinda already knew to be true himself. His wife was a lying slut who slept with the stable boy and his scullery maid was always flashing him her vaj, so yeah, the first deadly sin is Lust. *thunder clap* It was actually Aristotle who defined Lust as an "excessive love of others" so, naturally, the houseguest representing Lust is the one and only Brendon Villegas. The newly bald Brendon confessed early on to a two time a day masturbatory habit so it shouldn't really come as a surprise that he was quick to fall prey to the red headed harlot we've all come to hate. Brendon's primal urge to procreate is the deadly sin that I firmly believe ruined him for America. Sure, Brendon is a fierce competitor who doesn't know the meaning of "give up", but he's also an unfortunate tool who thinks with his loins. Had he played his own game, not been Rachel's little kumquat Bitch Boy, and made some solid friendships he could have easily been a favorite in the eyes of the public. Yes, Brendon still has a solid shot of actually winning this season from hell and I even tossed around the idea that it might not be such a bad thing after all. Then I came to my senses when I realized that Rachel would probably get a piece of that $500,000 pie, she'd monopolize every single one of his victory interviews, and these two chuckle heads would most definitely secure a spot on The Amazing Race (which I begrudgingly blog over at the Bitchy Amazing Race Blog). I don't know about you guys, but I can't live with that. I can't sleep soundly and continue to live my life happily knowing that Rachel would be out in the world somewhere buying herself some more tie dye tank tops and mismatched extensions with Brendon's money. Poor Brendon will be on welfare by December because his clown of a girlfriend would have bought the Patron distillery and drank the entire inventory. For my own sanity and for the future of tequila everywhere, I do not want Lust to win this game.

The next up on our list is Gluttony. *thunder clap* This is an easy one requiring no thinking on my part. Gluttony is represented by one Mr. Enzo Palumbo. *cue 'O Sole Mio'* Enzo not only cheats while as a Have-Not, but he eats like food is going out of style and his teeth are made of rubber. It's an open-mouthed sucking slurping dance for the ages. I literally hurl my head phones across the room when this idiot starts masticating. I've found it's faster and much easier for me to simply rip off an ear lobe rather than fumbling around trying to find the mute button. I don't know if he thinks he can extract more flavor from his food by sucking and smacking it death, but it's truly the most nauseating noise I've ever heard in my life. Being Italian and having famous pizza maker parents doesn't help Enzo's cause either. The crunchy crusts mixing with the melted gooey cheese squenching and blending around and around in his mouth is a feast for the eyes no one should ever have to witness. Being a gluttonous open mouthed pig, Enzo's primal urges draw him to all things caloric. Yes, he's stuffed things to eat into his penguin costume and just yesterday I thought people were getting way too bent out of shape over it, but last night... last night, the night before eviction, Enzo stood in the kitchen in front of Matt and Hayden, asked if he was allowed to drink chocolate milk, ignored the "no's" he got as an answer, and proceeded to make himself a giant glass of the cocoa goodness. He announced to the cameras that he didn't care if he was cheating - "Go ahead and send me to the fucking jury house yo.", he said. Hayden's eyes grew wide as he sensed his game could be in danger if Enzo left instead of Matt. Conversely, Matt just sat there and shifted uncomfortably. If I was Matt, I would have gotten straight up, marched into the DR, and said, "Hey assholes, Enzo just cheated in front of everyone. Penalty nom. Now!" The sneaking around thing with the food didn't bother me too much because other HG's have done it in the past without repercussion, but the flauting of BB laws right in front of everyone (just like Jen did in BB8) is a little over the top and, yes, he should be punished for it. I don't care anymore if he taps into that all too popular Jersey Shore demographic and makes all the non feedsters laugh 3 times a week. He should be held accountable for being a whiny gluttonous pig. Thankfully, I'm pretty confident that Enzo probably won't make it to the Final 2. If he does and he ends up winning BB12, I move that New Jersey's borders be closed and no one ever be allowed to leave that state again. Between Mr. Palumbo, that tubby drunken idiot with the bump-it in her hair, and that wretched Manzo clan, I am officially done with New Jersey!

Stop three on our whirlwind tour of sin is Greed. *thunder clap* I was looking forward to this one actually because I think we all know who the new poster boy for Greed is... Hayden. Hayden, the shaggy haired nonwinner who doesn't know the definition of "alliance" or "loyalty". The second he's on the block he turns against his in-house hook up (Kristen) in order to protect his precious self. Last night though... my god, that CBS show... Hayden went a step further in his douchebaggery and not only gathered up all the prizes for himself, but went ahead and let Matt take all the blame. I guarantee he stole money out of the church collection plate as a child. I'm pretty sure he refused to let his creepy overprotective mother give out candy to other kids on Halloween and, I'm not sure, but I wouldn't count out the possibility that Hayden has also stolen aluminum cans from the neighborhood homeless man. Hayden's greed is so overwhelming that friendships and love interests are clearly secondary in his life. I'm pretty sure he's never held a job (actually, he'd probably just steal from the till if he had) because last night he said he hasn't made more than $5000 in the past 2 years. He's 24! What the hell is he still doing in college is what I want to know?! Is he like one of those people who just shirks the idea of growing up that they stay in college for as long as possible because they know mommy and daddy will pay for it? I'll bet he takes 3 credits a semester and spends his days playing XBox and growing his hair. I don't know. I'm just really fired up over what went down last night. I hate how the Bra-gade completely manipulated Britney into doing their bidding and walked away with all the prizes in the process. The Bra-gade is the worst thing to happen to this season. They made game playing boring, winning not necessary, and acting like a scumbag par for the course. Worse still, Hayden could very easily win BB12. I think I'd rather listen to Rachel give nauseating interviews to Entertainment Weekly than know that Hayden won the money by being a scared paranoid little puppy dog who puts himself before all others. I'm organizing a midnight sex spell I've written to get Hayden out of this game once and for all. Reply in the comments if you want to join in. I'm gonna need a lot of particpants with zero inhibitions for this to work properly.

Now, we arrive at Wrath. *thunder clap* I'm going to give Wrath to one Mr. Ragan Fox. Ragan may seem spindly and weak on the outside, but he's the only person to ever put that beak-nosed parrot face in her place and I truly believe that it was his inner rage that instigated it all. You see, Ragan is a political sort of guy. He writes poems and does radio shows about a whole myriad of topics of injustice. In other words, things in the world make him angry and he reacts to them. Whether it's in limmerick form or marching in a Pride parade, Ragan is fueled by what unsettles him. He's trapped in a big stinky testicle house of heterosexual men yet he's the only person to take a stand against someone, rip her to shreds, and sound intelligent while doing it. You're a lying sack of doody if you say that the fights aren't what you live for while watching Big Brother. Without Ragan we wouldn't have had our most delicious fight of the season. It's been parodied, it's been recapped, it's been animated... that fight is all we have to cling onto in this otherwise doldrum house. As rabid fans we search and speculate for madness that might be festering. Over and over again we come up empty handed so instead we crawl into bed and think back on Lydia ripping Ass Licker a new one or Jeff telling Russell he "got got". Ahhh, the good ole days. Big outspoken personalities are what bring the drama and I'm sad to say the only people to step up to the plate this season are Ragan and Rachel. I think Kristen could have delivered had she stuck around. She's doesn't take any bullshit from anyone as we've witnessed only just yesterday when she outed the phonies bidding on her hippietard. I would have loved a Kristen, Ragan, Britney alliance. I could have been happy with them in the Final 3. Instead I'm stuck with a bunch of dummies who do nothing, say nothing, and inspire nothing. *sigh* It's depressing.

We now come to Sloth. *thunder clap* Sloth could very easily apply to several of the HG's, but I'm gonna go ahead and pin it on Lane. Lane is completely nonessential to this game. I'm sure he's nice and all that, but what the hell is he doing in Big Brother? I mean, come on! He doesn't care when he's nominated, he doesn't try win a damn thing, and I'm pretty sure he could give two shits if he went to the Jury House tonight. He's a giant athletic type of guy who simply refuses to put any of the skills he has to good use. Nothing ever phases Lane and that's doubly infuriating. He's the polar opposite of Ragan when it comes to social injustice. Ragan gets fired up, makes signs, and takes a stand. Lane shrugs his shoulders, pops a beer, and kicks back in his LazyBoy to watch the game. If it's not knocking on his door threatening hisself or his family, then Lane could really give a flying fuck. Any time he has to talk Britney into doing something stupid, he sighs and begrudgingly climbs the stairs to the HOH. Talking game interrupts his grueling floating in the pool schedule. He's boring, I wouldn't notice if he suddenly disappeared, and he's a member of that stupid Bra-gade. So yeah, Lane winning this season would be a complete clusterfuck. I can't imagine anyone wanting to read an interview with this guy. A journalist would ask, "Lane, what do you feel was your strongest move of the game?" Lane would reply, "Well, ummm, I'm not sure really. Do you have a floatie on you? I've got a hankering to hang out by the pool." The only thing of interest Lane has done this season was to get caught masturbating and even that was bloody boring! The most exciting part was when he rinsed his hand off. I rarely even talk about Lane in this here fancy blog because he doesn't inspire me in the least. At least Rachel gave me something to work with. She had personality (albeit a horrible and wretched one) and wouldn't shut up. Lane gives me nothing.

This brings us to Envy. *thunder clap* You're not gonna understand it at first, but let me explain it and eventually you'll hop onboard and get it. I am assigning Envy to Britney. She's not the petty jealous type that Rachel is. Rachel's envy stems from her own insecurity of being a vile hose beast. Britney's envy is a little more complicated than that. Britney is envious of brotherhood and comraderie. Brit is a gals gal who's done the sorority thing and dealt with catty bitches her entire life. She's southern and grew up in pageants so hairspray and make-up have been a part of her world from a very young age. Deep down inside Britney just wants to talk dirty, scratch herself, and hang out with the dudes. She's got a wicked sense of humor that's not always appropriate in southern circles so she stifles it and instead thinks evil thoughts to herself. In the Big Brother house, however, this underdeveloped tomboy side she has not only flourished, but delighted us all with merriment and glee. She was the comedy force behind Just The Tip, she can crack up a room full of dudes and not break a sweat, and she'll stay up all night getting chum chunks on her with nary a complaint. The only problem with all of this is that when it comes down to the wire, the penis people are going to cut Britney out and she'll find herself alone with the despicable failures in the Jury House. It's Britney's envy of the brotherhood that caused her colossal mistake this week. I think in her effort to infiltrate the guys, she lost sight of herself and her own game thus letting them manipulate her much more easily than it should have been. She's completely blind to the alliance before her and instead of running her own HOH, she got suckered into running it for the guys. It's a horrible horrible shame because I would have loved to have seen Britney get to the Final 2. Unfortunately, it's gonna take a whole lot of miracles and perhaps a ball of twine and duct tape for that to happen. I'll keep my fingers crossed for Britney, but I also won't be surprised if tonight is her last night in the house.

Finally, we arrive at Pride. *thunder clap* Pride is the most difficult of all the 7 Deadly Sins to conquer. I learned that by watching Charmed I'll have you know. This one, of course, is a no brainer. Pride falls upon the wee little non super genius himself, Matt. Matt's pride first emerged in Week 3. He was so overcome with self love and all the goofy labels and personalities he'd assigned to himself that he thought getting out the most powerful twosome in the house was no big deal. His monumental mistake not only affected the entire BB12 season, but it also planted the very first seed in the minds of the Bra-gade that Matt is someone who can't be trusted. Had he been all Bra-gade, all the time, he might not find himself in the perdicament he's in now. Instead, he thought he knew better than everyone else, he spent hours fondling his own balls, and smirking at his own reflection, that he failed to see the doubt and mistrust in the eyes of his closest friends. Matt was a promising player who had small stature on his side. How he managed to fuck it all up still astounds me. He had America (well, the weird short man lovers) rooting for him, he had some smarts, and then he said, "Hey, it's the diabolical super genius here..." and we all just kind of groaned and rolled our eyes. Worse still, you know he sat around and planned that moniker for weeks before entering the BB house. That wasn't something that was spontaneous in the DR. It was carefully planned and he probably thought it was gonna get him places in life. Instead, he finds himself with one foot out the door, no friends to call his own, and America ready to pounce for the diseased wife lie.... all because his pride got in the way of his game. Pathetic. Absolutely unequivocally pathetic. So sayonara Matty Boy... you truly deserve what you're getting tonight. You will never be a music star and you will never be a sex symbol. I suggest you go back home, make it up to your wife, and stop being such a monumental douchebag. Never do reality tv again. Just focus on your little web design profession and see a shrink to break you of your disgusting ball cradling habit. Thank you.

Sooooo, do Ragan and Britney have a chance in hell to stick around for another few weeks? Do you think Matt outing the Bra-gade would have helped him stay? Will BB address the chocolate milk incident? How long do you think Kathy's lifeless body has been at the bottom of the pool? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Artwork in today's blog is by Marta Dahlig.

Grody Stinky Balls

There have been a great many grand sweeping windy love stories throughout time. Romeo & Juliet, Rhett & Scarlett, Paris & Helen, Stanley & Stella, Phoebe & Cole, Tristan & Isolde, Lizzie & Darcy... the list goes on and on. They capture our hearts and give us hope that there's a meaning to all the madness and everyday crap we go through. They make the moon sparkle, our loins quiver, and have us wondering more often than not, "What the hell am I doing with this dolt lying next to me? I need a Cole or a Scarlett in my life." Yes, romance is powerful and beautiful and sprinkled in fairy dust and dipped in chocolate and all the rest of it. There is but one downfall to a great love affair... the scorned lover. *shivers* There is nothing quite as unpredicatable or as scary as a scorned lover. You could come home one day and find your clothes thrown willy nilly all over the front lawn or your bunny boiling in a pot. There is truly no telling just how far a scorned lover will go. They may tell your friends all your dirty bedroom secrets or post naked photos of you on the internet or maybe they just sit in a corner flicking a lamp on and off and quietly seethe. Those are the scariest in my opinion - the quiet cerebral ones who systematically search for ways to destroy you. Their approach is subtle and skilled. They may not skin your cat or cut the crotches out of all your underwear; instead, they'll start a rumor... a slow festering puss filled rumor that'll creep about slowly infecting everyone who comes into contact with it. Yup, it's definitely the liars you have to look out for. And right about now I'm thinking that the incorrectly self proclaimed diabolical super genius is one such person. Let's recap, shall we?

Before we get to the collapsed love affair of Ragan & Matt, let us address the big controversy that's taken over the internet: Enzo ate food. *gasps as thunder rumbles in the distance* Twitter fans and angry blog commenters alike have taken it upon themselves to grab their placards, charter buses, and organize marches on Washington (thanks Creme!) for the liberation of the justification of the beautifcation of the "We Love Matt" movement... or something like that. Matt fans everywhere furiously punched CBS phone numbers into their iPhone's and left lengthy angry voicemails. Sit-ins were organized, boycotts were planned, and innocent penguins were murdered - one on the hour every hour - until Enzo got his due. You see, the Penguin himself has taken to stuffing food into the belly of his costume and whipping it out to enjoy a tasty treat when he thinks he's going unnoticed. First off, Enzo is a fucking moron. He's been living in a house of cameras for the past 300 days (it feels that long so just go with it) and he truly thinks he can slip something past Big Brother. Look, you guys, Big Brother has a team of P.A.'s watching this shit around the clock and documenting every single thing that goes on. They know Enzo cheated. They know exactly what's going on and you know what? They really don't seem to care. Manipulation is one of Big Brother's most popular traits. Big Brother is supposed to play with the minds of the people he's controlling. Not to get too Orwellian, but "Big Brother" is, in fact, omniscient and always correct. If BB wants Enzo to get off without a penalty, then Enzo will get off without a penalty. I'm not sure that rioting in the streets and tweeting (what are most likely incorrect phone numbers) are really going to change anything. It's happened in past seasons where HG's have snuck food in the bathrooms and have gone unpunished. Jen got punished on BB8 because she made a big dramatic to-do about it and did it out in the open purposely flauting BB's laws. I don't know. I just think it's kind of funny that a flurry of fans who absolutely hate it when BB interferes are now, essentially, begging for BB to interfere. Get over yourselves. It's a game. Furthermore, Matt will not fall in love with you when he gets out of the house. Deal with it.

OK so back to the task at hand. Ragan is all pissed off because Matt, his in-house bestie and lover, actually suggested to Britney that Ragan go up on the block in his place. Knowing that his confidant and paramour was so willing to turn on him has basically destroyed Ragan's belief in good and evil, right and wrong, and hot and cold. It never even entered Ragan's mind that the one guy he's shared long lazy convos in the hammock with could be so heartless and uncaring. I feel bad for Ragan. I know what it's like to put your trust into someone only to have them turn into a total asshole and betray you. People like that are insecure, jealous, and probably rotting inside being eaten alive by their own hate. Matt strikes me as one such person. I say this because even in the wake of his nomination, he's still sprinkling mentions of his poor diseased wife into conversation... conversations with Ragan no less! If anything, I thought he'd apologize and fess up in an effort to avoid the post-BB hate that's bound to come. Or at least I thought he'd nix mentioning Stacey when he knows very well that the truth will destroy Ragan even more. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Matt would continue to pursue, and use, the diseased wife lie.

The diabolical super genius is in fact an insecure selfish guy desperate for fame. This isn't his first reality show and I have a feeling, if he has it his way, it won't be his last. Maybe his mother didn't hug him enough or he didn't get laid a lot in college. I'm not sure, but something somewhere went wonky in his upbringing and it's resulted in his testicles being a security blanket. Am I the only one who finds that habit of his to be really fucking disgusting? He touches things in the house all the time! The kitchen counters, door handles, weights, the HOH remote control, an innocent Sprite bottle... everything in that damn house is covered in Matt's penis! Imagine if a chick sat around with her hand down her pants all the time. She'd be labeled a perv and Francis Farmer'd into a lobotomy. Ok maybe not a lobotomy, but my view of mental institutions is very 1940's and filled with bizarre operations, unfeeling nurses, and all sorts of electrical probes. The point I'm making is that Matt's hand down the pants is not charming, it's not cute, and it's not funny. It's a nasty hotel comforter black light health hazard. If I was in that house I'd demand gloves and a giant tub of those Lysol disinfectant wipes. What's even more nauseating is that Matt's nasty little habit is actually contagious. Now, Enzo lies around with his hand on his junk and I'm pretty sure garlicky olive-oiled Jersey junk on the sliding glass door handle is enough to make anyone never want to go outside again. No wonder that house smells! It's akin to living nestled next to a fat man's balls in tight one size too small jockeys. Yuck!

So Ragan is devastated. He's burned all the love poems, scattered the ashes into the wind, and has decided there's no way in hell he's ever gonna vote for Matt to stay or win this game. Ragan is also pissed off that he ever bothered to campaign for that little douchebag when he was on the block. Worse still, Matt is now using Ragan's campaigning last week against him. He's telling the others that he never asked Ragan to do that and that Ragan is clearly someone who can't be trusted. As if Ragan's back doesn't have enough steel blades lodged into it, Matt has now taken to using Ragan as a sacrificial lamb in an effort to save himself. Matt tells Hayden that Ragan's real targets are Hayden and Enzo not Brendon. He promises that if he stays in the game, he'll deliver all of Ragan's info to the Bra-gade. He's BG for life. *smacks chest and flashes gang sign* Matt goes on to tell Lane that Ragan is no longer the soft and emotional gay puppy who could be manipulated. Now, he's a rabid dog lusting to infect innocent bystanders. Matt wants Lane or Atticus Finch to take him out. If they can't shoot him, then maybe they should start studying harder. Matt advises Lane that Ragan knows that house inside and out and that the Bra-gade need to get their shit together and start memorizing.

Lane listens to everything Matt says and just kind of nods. Matt senses that he's not be taken seriously so he clutches at more some straws and says that he thinks Ragan now has a side alliance with Enzo and Britney. LOL That's funny. Worst. Lie. Ever. Enzo can't stand Britney and Ragan. Matt, of all people, should know that Lane's not gonna buy a lie like that. It's sad and fascinating at the same time to witness the unraveling of one Mr. Matt Hoffman. To Ragan's face he's apologetic, sweet, and saying he wants to go gay clubbing with him (of course he does), then behind his back he's calling him crazy, unpredictable, and scary. If he had a brain cell in his head rather than in his pants, he'd just out the Bra-gade already, get Ragan and Brendon to vote for him to stay, and have Britney break the tie and keep him in the house. It's logical, smart, and actually possible to pull off. This alternative of slandering Ragan and inventing phony alliances isn't going to get Matt anywhere at all. He's too transparent to pull it off. He should just stick with the truth (the Bra-gade), the people who were his closest friends (Ragan and Britney), and work his ass off to stay another week.

Later on in the night we find a semi-paranoid Hayden. Look, Hayden's not a bad guy per se, I just have a huge problem with the way he's playing this game. He turns on his alliances faster than you can say "Kristen" and it strikes me as slightly creepy. I'm pretty sure there's a way to play this game without betraying your best friends and lovers in the house. Instead of winning and taking control of his own BB experience, Hayden is happy to let everyone else do the dirty work for him as long as he stays off the block. The only game he's playing consists of asking everyone who they'd vote to win in the Final 2. He takes that info and uses it to create side alliances. Lucky for him, it's working so far and, regretfully, I can see him winning the whole kit and caboodle. It's like another Jordan winning. Sure, she won the money, but she got to the end not by her own devices. She got to the end by being carried there and having a jury who voted emotionally rather than strategically. She's a half a mil richer, but I don't respect her for it and I never will. I won't respect Hayden for a BB12 win either. Actually, the only people I can respect winning this season right now are Britney and Ragan. They're not flawless, but they're the only ones, besides Kristen, who've stood up for what they believed in. I respect their balls. It's as simple as that.

So, can the Ragan/Matt love affair ever be mended? How insane-o do you think Ragan will go when he finds out that Matt lied about his wife's disease? Do you think Matt should out the Bra-gade and tell Brendon the truth as to what's really going on? How many Hazmat teams will it take to clean that BB house from top to bottom? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Don't forget to check out the most exciting BB eBay auction ever! Kristen's hippietard is killing it! Check it out and bid HERE.

Wishy Washy Suckfest

Yesterday someone, I won't say who (her name is STACKED), left a comment in the wee hours of the morn suggesting I sacrifice my prized leprechaun, Mr. O'Shaugnessy, in order to get Britney to nominate Hayden. It's not like Mr. O is worth his weight in gold or anything! Oh alright, so maybe he is, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna boil him up for the worst season of Big Brother ever! What you bitches don't seem to understand is that my leprechaun is a lot more than just someone I kick around now and again. He packs my opium, he stirs my gin, he holds my balls of yarn when I knit, and I'll have you know he's quite the lover. Mr. O can curl my toes like no other. You'd think he was an Argentinian polo player or a long haired romance novel cover model rather than a ornery tiny person with flaming red chest hair. I was actually considering bringing over some of Mr. O's brothers from Dublin to sell on eBay. I was gonna give you guys the opportunity to bid first before I opened up my auctions to the general public, but forget it now. I can just see the whole lot of you sadistic whores harming some of the beloved O'Shaugnessy clan for your own personal gain. Yes, leprechaun's are magical, but they can also be ruthless little monkeys if you don't treat them right.

I first found Mr. O while on a week long holiday in Ireland. I had just seen that movie Veronica Guerin and I wanted to go to Dublin to pretend I was Cate Blanchett sniffing out drug dealers. I had always loved Cate and thought I'd have no problem pretending to be a stubborn journalist while sporting a sassy new short haircut. I had practiced my brogue, packed my Michael Flatley DVD's and a couple bars of Irish Spring, and bought a giant cable knit sweater just for the occasion. I called everyone I met a "wee lassie" and I ate a lot meat packed stews. One day, while searching for Bono's house, I got lost and found myself in the middle of a giant field of peat. From my history lessons I knew that back in the olden timey days people were sacrificed in the magical bogs of peat. I'm not sure why, but I think it could have been for messing up in clogging class or something. So anyhow, there I was all alone with the wind in my hair when I started to weep. I just knew that some stray Gaelic speaking clansman was gonna see my cute self, claim me for his own, have his way with me, and then sacrifice me later in a weird ritualistic Druid ceremony I wouldn't understand one word of. I always knew I was gonna be a prized posession, but not to some hairy guy in a skirt who decorated with too many plaids.

Sad and hopeless I cried myself to sleep and awaited my fate. The next morning I awoke to find myself in a meticulous tree house that smelled like cookies and cabbage. I opened my eyes slowly to find a small red headed creature scurrying back and forth from the oven to the kitchen table. He was smoking a pipe and muttering to himself about his cookies not being chewy enough. I was at once scared yet fascinated. Who was this silly little man? Would he hurt me or just feed me well? Sensing me stirring in my bed made of hay he came over to me and smiled. He said, "'Ello wee lassie, ya fancy a smoke and a pint?" Why, it was the cutest thing I'd ever seen! I grabbed him by the neck, pulled him into bed with me, and we spent the next week doing unspeakable things with heads of cabbage. It was bliss. I brought him back to America with me and here we live happily ever after. So, no, no I will not sacrifice my leprechaun! It was fate that I found him in the first place. Let's recap, shall we?

Our pageant princess Britney seems to have herself a decision making problem. Should she put Matt or Hayden on the block? At first it seemed like there was no way in hell she'd put Matt up for eviciton. As soon as she'd won HOH she assured both Matt and Ragan that they were 100% safe. After Brendon won POV and ruined, well, everything, Britney became scared of making too many enemies. If she puts up Hayden, then Enzo, Lane, and Brendon will be mad at her. If she puts up Matt, Ragan will be mad at her. What's a girl to do?

First, you don't worry about who's gonna be mad at you. What the hell Britney?!? You're a tough chick. Make a decision and stick with it! Think it out logically. Do you really think the boys club on the other side of the house are going to keep you in this game for another week? Doesn't it strike you as odd that they never win anything? Also, wasn't Enzo talking shit about you just last week? Come on girl! Get it together.

The problem in why this decision is so damn hard for Britney is Lane. Look, I don't mind Lane. He's funny in his DR's and all that, but when you stop to think about it he really doesn't do much else. I rarely write about him in this very blog because he never does anything. He doesn't fight with people and he doesn't win shit. Basically, he is drama-less which means he's a big ole bore. I'm sure he's lovely in person and it must be fun to go shoot stuff with him, but in the game of Big Brother he's a ginormous beefy yawnfest. If he left tomorrow, I honestly can't say that the house wouldn't be any different. That's how insignificant he is. He floats in the pool, he lifts his weights, and he sleeps. That's about it. If he actually stood up to someone and made some power moves I might think differently, but for now he's inconsequential to my enjoyment of the game.

Actually, what the hell am I talking about? I hate this game. I hate it with every fiber of my being. It's work for me to watch the damn feeds anymore. I half ass it and go to onlinebigbrother.com instead to catch up on everything I missed. My house is clean, I sleep like 9 hours a night, I watch movies, I work, I paint exquisite flower pictures that may or may not look like vaginas... the point is, I'm getting an unusual amount of shit done for a Big Brother season. Usually, I'm up all night hunched over my laptop madly typing important notes I mustn't forget. I'd live off of canned goods and leftover crackers because I'd be too afraid to go to the grocery store and miss anything. I'd fight with idiots in the chat rooms because I'd be so passionate about who I was rooting for that I'd take it upon myself to defend them to the death. Now, instead, I lie in bed, watch Bravo shows, play 18 Words With Friends games at once, and check my Twitter for what's going on in the house. I search the dark cavernous recesses of my mind trying to find ways to make this blog interesting. Big Brother is so fucking boring that I choose to live in a fantasy world of ritual human sacrifice and fanciful mythical creatures rather than focus on game play. I'm gonna be honest with you guys, it is so hard for me to find any joy whatsoever in this season. The other day someone asked me, "So, what do you do, you watch the Feeds all day and write about them?" I replied, "No, I just make shit up." She said, "And people read that?" I said, "Yeah, you'd be surprised how many." She said, "Well, good for you." I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, "Yeah... good for me."

I HATE BIG BROTHER 12!!! Are you fucking listening to me Allison Grodner? Why the hell did you cast such boring idiots for me to write about? How you call yourself an Executive Producer of anything is beyond me. Your twists aren't going to save this damn season so enough already!Here's what I want you to do. I want you to hire an Israeli Commando and blow up the fucking house. Use some C4 or toilet paper dipped in gasoline. I don't care how you do it, just fucking do it. Put an end to this madness, fire Robyn Kass, fire yourself, and then hand the reins over to whomever is running the Bad Girls Club. If BB13 isn't All Stars 2, then I want a bunch of nutty broads who have no problem getting naked and punching each other in the face. If you can't manage to do that, then I want devices implanted into each of the HG's brains that make throwing competitions excruciatingly painful. Call NASA, the FBI, the CIA, the Vatican... someone somewhere must have the technology to make a small metal electronic genital zapper that can sense when an HG is about to throw a comp.

Better yet, why don't you just go ahead and visit a parole officer? Cast 13 ex-cons with violent pasts and let them all kill each other for the grand prize. Or you could do an Agatha Christie type thing where the HG's wake up to find another HG murdered in their bed. Houseguests would have to figure out who the killer is or else end up dying a tragic death. Maybe have a Gladiator season. With the overwhelming success of Spartacus: Blood and Sand, gladiators are very hot right now. Cast a bunch of big beefy guys and let them fight to the death. Maybe for POV they can wrestle with a lion or something. We'll call the show Big Brother Ludus and they'll wear nothing but loin cloths for 10 weeks. If that's impossible because PETA will throw a big tantrum over the whole lion thing, then might I suggest Big Brother: Drag Queen Version? You get 14 bitchy drag queens who have innovative ways of turning a phrase (shit like "throwing shade" or just randomly shouting "gorgonzola!") and let them have run of the house for the summer. You wouldn't even need to have big dramatic competitions. Just let them hurl "Yo Mama" insults to one another in the backyard and the last one left standing wins. Look AG (and CBS), I've given you some amazing suggestions for how to bring this show back to life. I want you to call me, hire me, and we'll make this happen.

OK I'm sorry about all that. I've been holding this shit in for weeks now and I just needed to let loose. I'm not stopping the blog or anything like that. I'd never do that to you guys. I'll continue to cover this travesty. I just wanted it in writing how much this season makes me want to hurl myself out of a window and land face first onto a rusty spike.

So yeah, Britney can't make a decision about Matt. Matt convinced her to keep him, then Lane convinced her to dump him, then Ragan convinced her to keep him again, then Hayden convinced her to dump him again. I don't know if Britney is really this wishy washy and easily swayed or if she's already made her decision and is just playing everyone. If you remember a few days ago she lied to Brendon telling him how hard it was for her to make a decision about who to nominate. I'm hoping she's doing something similar to that now. I'm hoping that she's already got it fixed in her mind that she's going to put up Hayden and stick tight with her pals Matt and Ragan. If she keeps Enzo in this game, then I fear her days are numbered. If I'm left having to recap this shit with only Bra-gade members in the house, I'm gonna get Ophelia on everyone's ass and fall into a brook and "accidentally" drown. Instead of handing out rue, the herb of regret, I'll eat it myself and shrivel up my insides while dying a slow and painful foaming at the mouth death while lying in a creek 12 inches deep. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do.

So, how do you think Britney will nominate today? Do you think she's playing everyone and she already knows very well what's she's gonna do? How will you take your own life if we're stuck with all Bra-gade members for the final weeks? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! No blog tomorrow. Something suddenly came up.

One more thing: Please check out the hippetard up for auction over at eBay. It's the one cool item from this season. Kristen is even throwing in the wig! Pretty awesome. Bid HERE.

Looking For 9 Virgins

OK so I need to fess up about something. I was not babysitting for a friend yesterday. I was, in fact, out gathering virgins. You see, the new spell I've been working on was so multi faceted that it called for "7 nubile sacrificial virgins" in addition to the spotted owl feather I was gonna have to steal and the wooly mammoth tusk I was forced to dig for. My day began like a predator's might. I rented a windowless van, donned some Magnum P.I. glasses, and drove back and forth on the mean streets of Virginia. Spotting a virgin takes skill, practice, and a speculum. Back in the olden timey days of the Etruscans or the Ptolemites all you had to do was find an unmarried gal and you knew you had a virgin on your hands. Nowadays, in the black hole world of MTV and teen sexting, it takes a lot more than checking a ring finger to spot an untouched female. To facilitate my search for virgin blood, I put together a list of several questions I'd ask my prisoners. #1 Do you know who Alexander Skarsgard is and have you seen him naked? #2 Was Mickey Rourke a currency trader in the film 9 1/2 Weeks? #3 Do you or have you ever attended Catholic school? and #4 Are you or do you have any desire to be a neuroscientist? I figure if they answer yes to any of these questions, they're probably a ho bag slut face and not suitable for my spell. Fortunately, for BB fans everywhere I was able to find 7 virgins raring to go. Turns out all I needed to do was visit a cat store. That place is crawling with untouched spinsters!

With my gals all tied up to a long yellow rope I yanked and tugged and began the long hike up the highest mountain in Appalachia. Random moonshiners and grandmas rocking on their creaky porches looked at me quizically, but then decided to pay me no nevermind. It's always been the motto in the mountains of Virginey to mind one's own business and I've never been more thankful for that than I was yesterday. Once on my mountaintop perch I tied my virgins to a tree and went about gathering some wood for my cauldron. It was gonna take a whole mess of branches to get that pot boiling properly. I worked hard and fast always keeping one eye on my virgins. If one escaped, the plan would be shot to shit and I just couldn't risk that. Come hell or high water I was gonna get Britney to win that HOH dammit and nothing was going to stand in my way.

Using my Zippo with the Harley Davidson logo on it (a gift from Shambo), I lit my cauldron of doom and began my lengthy ritual. First, I disrobed and placed a crown of mountain wildflowers atop my head. The purple in the snapdragons totally brings out the green in my eyes. Just because you're in the woods, it's no reason to neglect proper color coordination. You never know what sort of bearded mountain man could be spying on you. Ok so I brought my pot to boil, chucked in the owl feather and the tusk I stole from the Smithsonian, and began to chant in Ancient Enochian. Translated it goes something like this: No more-a pizza pie, Enzo must-a go bye bye, a yo-yo here and a yo-yo there, Enzo can't seem to grow no hair. I think Whitman drew inspiration from those ancient words, but I'm not sure. With the tusk bobbing dangerously up and down I knew the giant scorching vat was ready. I went over to my squirming virgins and forcibly chucked them into the pot one by one. There were lots of angry "Quit your bitching!" and "I don't care if you are a nun!" quips flying out of my mouth, but eventually I got them all in and I was able to begin my sacred dance. I kicked one foot out, pointed my toe, snapped my elbows this way and that, and jutted my hips forward and backward. Yes, it's very similar to the dance Elaine Benes did at the office party. It may look spastic to some, but it's really like super powerful and whatnot.

After my herky jerky tarantella I collapsed, spent, into a thorny evergreen bush. I didn't really mind or even notice the tiny prickers piercing my skin. When you've reached a spiritual ecstasy like I had, pain has no meaning anymore. After several hours of quiet meditation (AKA a power nap), I slipped my clothes on over my blood spattered skin, emptied out the giant pot, and headed out to the nearest road to hitch for a ride back down the mountain. A donut seller named Mavis picked me up. She had a mean orange cat and a case of Lucky Strikes on her dash. I liked Mavis immediately. Her husky voice was soothing and her mullet made me giggle. I have a feeling Mavis and I will be friends for life. So yeah, that's where I was yesterday. Let's recap, shall we?

So, it was the big night of the DPOV and, for all intents and purposes, it was pretty anticlimactic. First, the dang thing crumbled into pieces and all the diamonds fell off of it. Next, Matt screwed up his carefully planned speech and C) We lost the sleepy Dragon Lady. Yes, it would have been frustraing had she sailed to the end, but deep down I, along with a shitload of other people, hoped that maybe, just maybe, Matt would put up Enzo. I guess Matt didn't have enough info to go on to warrant an Enzo eviction. Getting rid of Kathy is also an easy way not to ruffle too many feathers. Au revoir Kathy Faye, keep an eye out for a basket of Spam and Nicorette gum from yours truly. You were pretty boring in the house, but I drew great inspiration from your accent and I think The Tales Of Kathy Faye should become a Lifetime movie or something. Holly Hunter could play Kathy and Donald Sutherland could play her moonshining grandpappy. It'll be just as successful as those other great Lifetime movies: The Truth About Jane, Homeless to Harvard, and, my absolute favorite, Augusta Gone. Lifetime movies on a lazy rainy Sunday with a bottle of wine = heaven.

Kathy is gone, Matt is safe, and the house is absolutely floored. Ragan is flustered and caught in between wanting to jump for joy and weep in gratitude. He stares wide-eyed at his friend Matt and marvels at his tininess. Britney is our new HOH (hell yeah!) and Hayden is now confused, Enzo can't stop pacing, and Brendon is all sad and pouty. This dynamic will pretty much continue for the rest of the night. After the live show ended everyone was happy for Britney, but they couldn't really express exactly how happy they were until Bitch Boy was finally called to the DR. As soon as he leaves the kitchen area confetti dropped from the sky, a congo line started, and Ragan put on knee high gold glitter boots and a hot pink boa. It was celebration time! The HG's twirled and sang about how Bitch Boy is finally going home this week. At home I giggled in the merriment, but I also knew that the POV was probably going to be a tight jean wearing crotch sweating contest. The HG's can celebrate all they want, but I'm not planning my next party until I know for sure that the whiny Bitch Boy is going home. There's also a strict "No feeding the Leprechaun" rule that will be put into place at my next shindig. Whoever gave Mr. O'Shaugnessy those magic mushrooms last time is in deep shit. Do you have any idea how long it takes to convince a paranoid leprechaun he's not a glass of orange juice teetering on the edge of insanity? It takes like... a loooong time. Assholes.

While most of the house is shocked yet pleased that Matt has stayed, there is one frustrated Eye-talian who feels otherwise. This shit is mad crazy yo. That HOH was almost fucking his yo. If he ends up on the block this week, he's gonna unleash some mad Jersey anger yo. Oh Enzo, shut the fuck up. Seriously, you're useless in this game. You take the easy way out whenever possible, you turned on your alliance, and you will never, do you hear me, never win anything. There's been a lot of talk about "floaters" this season and I'm pretty sure not one person really knows the accurate definition. I think a floater is someone who bounces back and forth amongst both sides of the house and spends their week wherever the power is. Independent players like Kristen and Ragan (early on in the game) were never floaters. The king of all flotational devices is the one and only lip smacking open mouth chewing Enzo. He's either tight with the Brigade when it serves his purposes or he's planning a Final 3 deal with Brendon when he has nowhere else to turn. This chump is Floater Extraordinaire or, in Ancient Greek, Floatus Maximus.

All that floating and bitching about Britney has brought Enzo to this very moment in time. If, for some reason, Bitch Boy does not go home this week, then Enzo will packing up his fedora and hitting the high road. Britney's plan is to nominate Brendon and Enzo. If Brendon comes off the block, Enzo still has the votes to go home. There is a strong possibilty for a tie this week, and, fortunately for us, Britney will be the one to break that tie. She's sworn that neither Matt nor Ragan will be on the block so all that leaves are the big bohunky men. Thank god!

Eventually, Britney gets her HOH room and it's filled with some pretty hysterical pictures of her either drunk or angry in her pageant days. The note is from her mom and everyone one Twitter immediately wondered why it wasn't from Nick. Britney has said herself that Nick has no desire to be in the spotlight. It's clear she loves him and all the speculating that he's going to leave her is completely ridiculous. Fucking BB fans making mountains out of mole hills again. Grow up already and get your heads out of your asses. Did you ever stop to think that maybe her mom insisted on writing the letter? I know if I had a daughter in the BB24 house I'd want to be the one to write the letter. I'd be overbearing and have a giant beehive hairdo. I'd wear heels to vacuum the house and my apron would be organza with a big giant bow in the back. I have a very early 1960's view of what a mother should be like. So yeah, when I'm all growed up, that's gonna be me. I'm gonna change my name to Flo and take up clipping coupons. Awesome.

Later in the night, feedsters were treated to another episode of Just The Tip. Ragan is beyond excited and giggles like a schoolgirl throughout. Britney unleashes her venoumous tongue on Brendon and at home in our beds we all laughed and laughed. Some holier than thou tweeters think Just The Tip is just rude and awful. To them I say: get the fuck out of the kitchen if you can't take the heat. No one is making you watch. I have the good sense to walk away if Brendon talks or if Enzo eats. If you don't like something, simply turn it off.

So, were you happy with how last night played out? Will Enzo really wreak havoc on the house if he's nominated? Do you think I should try 9 virgins for next week's "Win Ragan Win" spell? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! Tomorrow's blog will probably be very late. The good news is that the coming 2 weeks should be relatively normal and uninterrrupted.

Super special shout out to one Miss Kristen Bitting - one of the nicest and classiest ladies I've chit chatted with. Thanks for everything. You rock my world. Let's all be sure to vote for Kristen for America's Favorite. Her time in the house may have been all too brief, but she has excellent taste in blogs and that should definitely be rewarded. :-)

Also, does this by any chance make you horny? Yeah, me neither.