Sunday Randomness featuring Dreams and VH1 Shows

~ I’ll just say this: less than 3 more days. Less. Than. 3. More. Days. Woot!!

~ I love when I have dreams where I wake up laughing. When the alternative is waking up frozen in terror, yeah, laughing is kind of great. The difference between the two (besides the obvious) is that when I wake up frozen in terror, I still think I’m in the dream. When I wake up laughing, I get that I’ve just had a dream. A couple of weeks ago I had a dream where I was at a very somber gathering. My TV boyfriend* came from another room and I walked up to him and asked, “Is he gone?” In the dream I understood that I was talking about our father. (Yeah, it kind of sucks that I dream about my TV boyfriend and he’s my BROTHER in it!) He hugged me (at least I got a hug!), and said very seriously, “No not yet, but his tongue is stuck permanently to the roof of his mouth, so it’s just a matter of time.” Somewhere in my subconscious, I must have realized just how stupid that declaration was and it made me laugh and the laughing made me wake up. I was trying to tell my mom about it a few minutes later (she was staying with me at the time), and I was still so tickled that I couldn’t even get out the words about the tongue being stuck to the roof of the mouth. Your tongue being stuck to the roof of your mouth = imminent death.

~ The VH1 Trifecta came on this morning: Tool Academy, Confessions of a Teen Idol, and Road Skanks. I’m still not proud that I watched Tool Academy, but it was on when I was cleaning up my bedroom and you know how sometimes you have to mess up to clean up? Well, things were still in that pre-clean messy state, so I couldn’t find the remote. What is that crazy thing you say? You can change the channel with the buttons on the front of the television? Am I living in the 20th century or something? No. Just no. I am stuck watching whatever is on until I locate the remote control. I will reiterate today what I said last week: Girls? Get away from those men immediately. Get some therapy. Never, ever go on another VH1 reality TV show again. In that order. Please.

Confessions of a Teen Idol: I find myself totally rooting for these guys. All of them. Well, David Chokachi is still working my nerves, but I do hope he gets something worthwhile out of this. I just realized this week that the therapist on the show, Cooper Lawrence, does a radio show here in Charlotte. Well, I knew Cooper Lawrence had a radio show because I listen to it sometimes, but for some reason I didn’t realize it was her on Confessions of a Teen Idol. On the way home from work one night last week, I heard her doing an interview with Christopher Atkins. I’ll tell you what: if I didn’t like him before, I definitely like him now. He was just a sweetheart in their interview.

And, the final show of the trifecta: Road Skanks. I have watched both of the previous seasons of this show and despite the fact that I call them skanks, I do have to say this is the most attractive group of girls that he’s had on. Minus the ridiculously large implants, the skimpy outfits, the gobs of make-up, the odd hair color and style choices, the girls are actually kind of cute. Except for the ex-porn star. She’s kind of rough-looking. He brought back that crazy beyotch Lacey from season 1. She is just creepy and crazy. Her hair is Raggedy Ann red, and for all I know, could be made out of yarn, just like Raggedy Ann’s. But, back to the current girls, here are fun things that happened this week:

1. A girl thought she popped her implant while playing in this week’s hockey challenge.
2. The ex-porn star collected all the socks the girls wore in the hockey challenge (dirty, and wet with sweat) and TOOK THEM WITH HER ON THE BUS! Not just hers. EVERYONE’s! She said later that she asked the owners of the hockey rink if she could have the socks and they “very much said yes”, so she took them. I mean…what??
3. The ex-porn star also collected a bag full of ketchup packets. Used ketchup packets. And they were in her bed. Dirty socks and used ketchup packets. Maybe she’s looking to do fetish films next instead of straight porn and is collecting props? Maybe??
4. Apparently going to a strip joint with Bret Michaels in Illinois is a red carpet event because there were people lined up outside to great them with cameras and autograph paraphernalia.
5. Getting the chance to show Bret the “real you” means getting on a stage, lifting your dress, and showing him your buttocks. Does that mean the “real you” is an ass?
6. I think I kind of want Farrah to be my red-neck skank gal pal. She’s funny as hale. I think I might be adopting the way she says “French” instead of the f-word. (Diane, that would have been a whole different letter!)
7. There is just no way to adequately describe the juxtaposition of the ex-porn star talking in her interview about empowering women in the porn industry by teaching them about retirement accounts, porn is in her past, she just wants to get married and have children now while the pictures that are being shown are of her working the pole, throwing money at the strippers, and kissing and being groped by the other women on the stage. Bravo Editors! Bravo!
8. The girl whose implant possibly popped called out Bret about his hair extensions. To his credit, he admitted that he has the finest, most expensive hair extensions you can buy in Europe.
9. Then Bret tells Busted Implant Girl that she’s a player and to GTFO. In response, she flips him the double bird and she calls him a player too.

But, Busted Implant Girl? Do you know the difference between Bret, the player and Busted Implant Girl, the player? He’s getting paid to be a player and has a (highly entertaining) show on VH1. What have you done?? Her tour, and that of the crazy ex-porn star/sock thief/empty ketchup packet hoarder, ended there. Next week? Someone falls off the stage, someone gets irrationally drunk, and we don’t know the “condition” of someone. Duh-duh-duh!!!

*Not to be confused with my Olympic boyfriend, my guitar-playing/singing boyfriend, my movie boyfriend, my poet boyfriend, or my Novel boyfriend, or my actual boyfriend.