As I try to catch up on work (we’re running with a skeleton crew right now and I’m way behind), the TV is on and I caught a few minutes of the new Flavor of Love series. Because that’s what you do when you’re behind on work. The first winner, Hoopz, rewrote the book on classy last year when she admitted she only wanted to spend time Flav for the publicity. Now, when you look the word ‘classy’ up in the dictionary, you just see a photo of her butt. Which is actually fine with me. Anyway, Foofy-Foofy is back on the market and his mansion is once again full of sort-of-attractive mental patients.
The girl Flav christened “Sumthin” was gathered with the rest of the girls for one of his elimination ceremonies near the end of episode one. Apparently she misunderstood the use of the word ‘elimination’ and, well, shat. She dropped one on the marble foyer floor, bent over to pick it up and by the time the others started remarking on the smell she was half way up the stairs with the awful offal. I sat here in complete and utter awe like I’d just seen a ghost. Where do I go with this description now? Watch this ridiculous kook for yourself below:
I figured I’d throw that out there as I was recently on the receiving end of an errant poop. I’m not going to be coy and pretend I don’t still love decent reality television. And Flavor of Love is tha shiznit – sometimes literally.
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