Warning: Fighting Nun, for the sake of our marriage, your sanity and for the love of little green apples, you shouldn't read this post. It will cause the mother of all eye-rolls, the likes of which we might never recover from. So don't read it. Save yourself the agony.
It should come as no surprise to the people that know me that I'm watching this. Yes it's awesomely bad. Yes it's probably a total waste of time (The operative word in that sentence is probably). But yet I'm still watching it. It ain't pretty. We all know that, but it sure is cheesetastic, which is all I ask of TV that panders to the knuckle-dragging denomenation of our society (in other words, me basically). New York has lost it. Actually, given that I didn't watch Flavor of Love or Flavor of Love 2, I have no idea if she had it to begin with, but damn. Girl Crazy is what I'm saying. But that's besides the point.
The thing I want to know, the one burning question I have right now is; How in the effing hell is Mr. Boston staying in the game? No, seriously? How in God's green earth has Vanilla Ica made it this far? I'm speechless, absolutely dumbstruck. Have you seen this guy? He looks like his momma is dressing him for prep school, all he's missing are the penny loafers and a briefcase. The first time I saw him and heard him talk, I was reminded of somebody I went to elementary school with, all prim hair and stiff collared shirts and a stick up his but so far he might as well become a puppet in a ventriliquist act. Actually, and this is a very bad association, he reminds me of the kid with the tragic hair, the collared shirts and the briefcase in Max Keeble's Big Move (Yes I saw that movie... every time it was on cable. No I have no good reason why. Look, would you accept that I really liked to watch Jamie Kennedy get his just desserts over and over and over again? No? Fine. I have no good excuse. I'm a pop culture knuckle dragger. Somebody's gotta be the voice of the bottom 5%. Might as well be me. Can we move on?). You know the kid I'm talking about, big teeth, the hair parted in the way that suggests his mother parts his hair every morning? (I couldn't find a picture of this kid, both Google images and Imdb left me out to dry, but if you saw the movie, you'd get what I'm talking about, or maybe you won't. Who knows at this point.) Yeah. I think Mr. Boston and that kids are kindred spirits, siblings even.
Mr. Boston's absolutely tragic, but he's absolutely tragic on the opposite side of the spectrum in which New York and all the other contestants are absolutely tragic. I mean, they are all trainwrecks. That's a given, but everybody else is the worst parts of Blind Date, The Fifth Wheel, Love Cruise and Joe Millionare kind of tragic and Mr. Boston is Beauty and the Geek, Revenge of the Nerds kind of tragic and those two worlds can never, should never meet. And if they do meet? Well the meeting shouldn't last long, is what I'm saying. In normal reality tv show.... well reality, he would've lasted all of an episode but in the crazy la-la land of VH-1 reality, he's lasted three episodes. Three!! Somewhere in Los Angeles, the very fabric of space and time was rended open and soon, very very soon, we'll all be sucked in and life as we know it will cease to exist. Thanks alot New York. Thanks alot Mr. Boston.
And was anybody as grossed as I was to watch those two kiss? I mean, the lap dance was one thing. I could watch that through my fingers but I could laugh at the same time with a kind of dettached interest, all 'Yeah he just humped her on national TV, but he'll be gone soon so it's o.k. to point and laugh.' But then he didn't go, and he still hasn't gone, and I have no idea what to do, how to react now. I'm just utterly mortified at this point. And I really don't think he's got much of a chance from this point on, I mean unless everybody else totally screws up, he's pretty much toast the next elimination right? Right? Please God let me be right, because if those two end up together, I will actually have no context for how the world works.
Actually, I totally take that back. They should totally end up together. They should have a televised wedding involving cheetah print bridesmaid dresses, pleather tuxedo pants, a wedding dress that has little LED lights on it, Sister Patterson officiating in powder blue satin suit, smoking a cigarette, and Mr. Boston humping New York's grandmother at the reception. If anything less happens, the fabric of space and time really will be rended open and life really will end as we know it.