What happens in Vegas... usually ends up humiliating you if it's broadcast on national television.

So, on this week’s fabulously trashy episode of Rock of Love, the final four went to Vegas where Heather brilliantly manipulated them into turning on Daisy. There was screaming and crying and throwing of drinks. Heather rules! Brett even had to call in Big John to calm things down. Speaking of which, I don’t know why these girls don’t go after Big John. He seems like a much better catch.

Also, this just in: Daisy appears to be working her way through former members of Poison. She has admitted to "befriending" C.C. DeVille in the past. Befriending? I can spot a euphemism at 20 paces! If I knew the names of any other members of Poison, you can be sure I'd be implying all sorts of profligate and shocking behavior with them.

In the end, Brett booted the sweet but terribly boring Jessica, and I can’t help but wonder if the show’s producers told him to do that, just like I imagine they forced him to keep Lacey for so long in season one. Sure, Daisy is a vile, manipulative liar, but she has to make it to the finale because she makes for good trashy TV. Jessica is the TV equivalent of Sudafed, which puts me to sleep even if the box says “non-drowsy” because it’s never, ever really non-drowsy.

And speaking of Daisy, I remarked to Amanda how much I love it that when Daisy cries (which is All. The. Time.), she can't touch her face because there's so much plastic, collagen, and spackle on it, it's in danger of melting into a pile of sparkly goo. So she just puts her hands up around her hairline as if she desperately wants to wipe her eyes but she can’t because she’s got to constantly remind herself that she can’t touch her face, so she’s forced to let her hands dangle up in the air like a monkey. She's such a terrifying disaster. I love it!

In sadder news, the marvelous Heather took her leave in this episode, ending my dreams of her staying on till the end. Bon voyage, fabulous tranny queen. I hope to see you in season three.

Next week: the obligatory parents episode, where we get to see who or what spawned Daisy. I can’t hope for something as spectacular as last year, when Heather went into great detail listing the ways in which Lacey resembled a prostitute right in front of Lacey’s horrible, horrible father! But I am hoping for Destiney to just haul off and smack a few liters of collagen out of Daisy’s face. She’s the most expendable of the final three, so she might as well go out in style.

Oh, that is not right.

Is anyone else deeply disturbed by that Career Builders commercial where the copy shop guy’s doppelganger walks in, reaches out, and strokes his double’s face before slinging him over a shoulder and carrying him away, ostensibly to a better career?

It is disturbing. Deeply disturbing.

Is that one of the horsemen?

So, the Session ordained a new deacon today in church. Our new deacon is a very nice, Godly man. But here's the thing: he's younger than me. This has never happened before. The deacons, the elders, they were always people my dad's age or older. I only got used to the idea of Brian being a deacon. It just makes me realize that one day the Pastor will be younger than me. And the President. And the lead anchor on 60 Minutes. What!

I suppose I should have seen this coming when Josh got married and had a child, but still, it's unsettling. Not because I'm all worried about being old, but because it won't be long till people my age and younger are, like, running things. And we're not ready. I'm not ready, so how can people younger than me be ready? This world is never going to survive my generation. Enjoy it now, folks, because it's all about to come tumbling down.

"Edible"? Are you sure about that?

Have you ever been eating honey and thought to yourself, “You know, what’s really missing from this is a big old crunchy hornet”? If so, have I got the website for you!

Edible.com

I discovered this website a couple days ago, and ever since I keep going back to it to gape in horror at the offerings. Aside from giant hornet honey, you can also feast on Mopani worms (salted and ready to eat!), giant toasted leafcutter ants (a perfect party snack alternative to nuts or olives!), and chocolate covered scorpions (detoxified, of course). The website assures you that the scorpion is similar in texture to a Kit Kat, to which I say, “Why not just get a Kit Kat?”

I love how the reindeer pate is promoted as a “farm raised relative of Rudolph,” and that purchasing and consuming curried crocodile meat actually helps save the endangered Wild Siamese crocodiles.

Hungry for more? Check out the description of Weasel Coffee.

Ack!

Step into my mint cellar.

Are you like me? Do you enjoy the breath-freshening powers of Altoids, but are too wimpy to actually ingest them? Do you think the tin and the old-timey logo and the paper wrapping inside the tin and the use of the phrase “curiously strong” are all just delightful but the thought of actually putting one in your mouth makes you a little nervous because you anticipate having to spit it out again almost immediately? Do you enjoy the fact that they’re made in Great Britain and have been for about as long as our nation has been in existence, but sucking on one would make you want to throw yourself into Boston Harbor with some teabags in your pockets?

I love Altoids. I love the tin and the fact that when you open the tin there’s a little historical tale printed inside and the fact that the tale uses the word “confectioner.” The only thing I don’t like about Altoids is their taste. I understand this is a significant hurdle to overcome when dealing with an edible product. But now I’ve got a solution: age them. Age them like fine wine. Take your adorable Altoid tins, put them on a shelf, and leave them there for a few years. When you revisit them, their flavor will have dissipated down to a tolerable level and you can be free to enjoy them.

I discovered this when I opened my desk drawer and found a tin of cinnamon Altoids that had been forgotten in there for a few years. And by “forgotten” I mean “tossed in the drawer because I couldn’t stand the torture unleashed upon my tongue when one of those foul discs was placed into my mouth.” For some reason, I decided to try one of the rediscovered mints. Perhaps it was the beautiful tin that drew me in, or the siren song of the pretty pink pieces, untouched by years of neglect and protected inside their tin casing. Whatever the reason, I tried one, and found to my utter delight that after all this time they had only now become edible! Eureka!

I realize there’s a sizeable downside to this plan: you have to purchase mints now in anticipation of enjoying them in 2 – 3 years. But think how cute the tins will look lined up on a kitchen shelf. And why are you in such a terrible rush anyway?

Swing states!

This morning I heard a news report about the presidential candidates campaigning in this area. And can I just say, I love living in a swing state. Candidates court you. On election night, they talk about your state a lot, because they’re eager to find out which way your coveted electoral votes will go. They refer to your state as one of the Big Three, and candidates spend heaps of time and money trying to win your affections. It all gives me that overstuffed sense of importance that I enjoy so much.

Plus, it’s always easy to find someone who will debate you and someone who will agree with you, both of which are necessary for a happy, balanced life.

Sure, California has lots of electoral votes, but since they always go Democrat, who even cares about them? They’re boring. Swing states are where it’s at.

The Fabulous Return of the Fantastic Tranny Sparkler

Amanda came home for Easter to surprise her family, so of course we made plans to get together and watch the latest trashy episode of Rock of Love. Our plan to feast on Scott’s By Dam tacos was thwarted by Scott’s being closed for Easter, but we enjoyed hot sausage sandwiches and Polish pizza from Pizza Deli instead.

In this gem of an episode, Bret invited the remaining ladies’ ex-boyfriends/ex-husbands on the show to dig up the real dirt on the girls. I heard about this premise a couple of weeks ago and was praying that Kristy Joe lasted until this week. I’m dying to meet the man who wasn’t certain if they were going through with the divorce, despite the fact that she took out a restraining order against him and the fact that she, you know, went on a reality TV show, the object of which is to fall in love with an aging former rock star. Alas, it was not to be and KJ went home last week, but there was still plenty of fun to be had, most of which came from the long-awaited return of the hideously fabulous Heather!

Oh guys, I can’t believe how much I missed Heather. I couldn’t stand her or her tranny** hair during season 1, but now she’s like a skanky breath of fresh air. With huge tranny hair. It just shows how much this show has gone downhill since the glory days of season 1. These season 2 girls can’t hack it. They can’t hold a candle to Heather. She walks on screen and suddenly all the season 2 girls seem dull and gray. They are ashes and Heather is a big, bright, booze-guzzling sparkler! I adore her!

**This is not tranny in the Christian Siriano sense; i.e. “hot tranny mess.” This is tranny in the sense of actual tranny. To paraphrase the philosopher Steven Tyler, Lady sometimes looks like a dude.

Heather wasted no time digging up all the dirt she could get on these girls. And like utter fools, they told her everything. Everything! Did these half-wits not watch season 1? Amanda and I nearly choked on our Polish pizza when Daisy revealed she still lives with her boyfriend. In a one-bedroom apartment! Then, hilariously, she tried to cry, but the Botox wouldn’t let her move her face, and the collagen made her trembling lips look like two of those water noodles that we float on in Aunt Linda’s pool. It was fantastic.

Also, Bret took the exes to Dave and Buster’s. Skee-ball! Tickets! That, coupled with his Steelers love, makes me think he and I could maybe be friends. Then I remember how much eyeliner he wears, and that thought gets blown out of the Monongahela.

In the end, dumb bimbo Megan got the boot, and it was pretty hilarious. She just stood there like a petulant child, shaking her head, while everyone wondered how many times and ways Bret was going to have to explain to her to get out of the house. I seriously thought he was going to have to have Heather drag Megan out by her hair. Now that would have been classic.

Then Bret announced the best news of all: the group would be leaving, post-haste, for Vegas and THEY’RE TAKING HEATHER WITH THEM! Oh, joy! Rapture! Please let her stay forever!

Next week: Heather, like a fabulous, manipulative cruise director, manages to have all the girls turn on Daisy. There will be screaming. There will be crying. There will be drinks thrown. There may even be some face slapping. I. Cannot. Wait.

I love this horrible trashy show oh help me I love it so much someone bring me some vodka!