Rage of Love

Reality dating shows are fraudulent and a complete waste of time. The women will prattle on about finding "the one", but are invariably fighting harder for airtime than they are for the attentions of the loser in question. The men are all on an amazing journey...into the pants of a very special someone whom they will have lost interest in by the time the finale airs. So why do I keep watching when I know I'm being had? I don't know. Guess I need something to pair with my evening Pinot Noir and goat cheese & sun dried tomato crostinis. So fuck off!

The latest social experiment from NBC is called "Age of Love". The central premise of the show is to line up a group of women in their 40's (dubbed "the cougars") and turn a 30 year old guy loose amongst them. We're looking for the answer to the question "When it comes to love, does age really matter?" Of course, these are no ordinary 40 year olds. NBC has scoured the country to find seven women who have been engineered to appear at least 10 years younger than you'd think they are. The centerpiece is a 48 year old who looks like she was hermetically sealed in a bag of oxygen when she was 26. Unbelievable. So the question we're really after is "When it comes to love, does a woman's age really matter if she's hot?"

To sweeten the pot, the bachelor they've chosen is billed as a 30 year old "tennis star"...whom you've never heard of (Mark Phili-something or other). Of course, the girls took his "stardom" at face value, because really...who knows anything about tennis? I couldn't name you a single male tennis player except for maybe Ivan Lendl (and you can't make a dating show with him because even in his prime he looked like the zombie of a dead German WWII officer). Being the curious type, I Googled the guy and found out he's all washed up. Played his best tennis 7 years ago, reaching the finals of two majors, but losing them both to far less attractive opponents. Now he's regularly getting bounced in the first two rounds. He's dated some hot girls though, and (in a horrible fit of age-irony) was recently engaged to an 18 year old who's better looking than everyone on the show. She broke it off last summer though...I guess she finally got around to Googling him too.

Mark Phili-whatsit and the ex-fiance

At the introduction, the women are trotted out in order by their age, youngest to oldest. As each approaches him, they give him their name, profession, and age in businesslike fashion, and he is increasingly stunned as they come out. 39, 40, 40, 40, 42, 46, 48. All in impeccable shape. One is a VP of a commercial real estate company, but most have hobbies masquerading as careers (photography, makeup artist) or are working the same jobs they worked in their 20's (legal secretary, executive assistant, and one even lists "freelance" as an occupation). Of note, one is a former Oakland Raiderette, but at the wrong camera angles, she looks like she might be pretty close to pouring coffee and smoking three packs a day at a Daytona Beach IHOP.

Freshen up your coffee, pumpkin?

Another interesting background tidbit from the cougars is the aforementioned well-preserved 48 year old. Her profession is listed as the 17 year "Executive Assistant to the owner of the Los Angeles Lakers". Hmmm...could she have been holding herself together over the years with some Magic Johnson hush-money?

The cougars get one round of dates with Mark before the next twist arrives. At what everyone thought was an elimination round by the pool, a curtain drops and a pack of freshly-picked girls in their 20's are revealed (dubbed "the kittens")! They send each bikini-clad girl out in what I first thought was cup size order, but it turns out they were coming out oldest to youngest. One thing you can observe only in this type of parade is that breast augementation technology has been in serious decline over the years. The boob jobs got so ridiculous that by the time they got to the 23 year old, the left one was literally bouncing sideways and the right one didn't even move at all! Do they just start throwing in whatever they've got laying around the operating room? Like a softball in one side and a Mr. Potato Head in the other? Who knows, but the younger they got, the bigger Mark's smile became and the more the cougars were fretting on the sidelines.

Back in their separate rooms (where the producers have left a set of hula hoops in the still-bikini-clad kittens' suite while the cougars are working a stack of crossword puzzles and needlepoint), the cougars and kittens are each doing some serious meowing about the others. The greatest moment is when the 46 year old VP joins into the bashing by blurting out "Maybe Mark can't handle confident career women who make over $250,000 a year". You could have carved up the stunned silence in that room and served it with cranberry sauce. Meanwhile, the kittens are making menopause jokes and other uncreative nonsense. Thoroughly uninteresting except for two girls. 25 year old Amanda, who looks like an elf archer from Warcraft III. A complete hottie with pointy ears and eyebrows...she's got a pretty smile for Mark, but a full quiver of "drop dead, bitch!" looks to shoot at all of the other girls.

For Rivendell!

The other fave is 24 year old Mary...a weepy insecure girl with frizzy hair as wild and tangled as her emotional state. In line with the show's "all else being equal" premise, the kittens have basically the same occupations as the cougars (executive assistant, lighting consultant, student, photographer). Oh well, I guess it's good to know that America's executives aren't wandering around unassisted!

As the show progresses, Mark sends off one girl from each age group weekly. The girls jockey for one-on-one time, not realizing the pattern of elimination-after-individual-date that Mark is clearly laying down. With the cougars, he picks off the obvious messy relationship histories as they come into the light. Kids, too many exes, etc. With the kittens, he kisses them and then boots them if they're not into it (what he terms "holding back" or "not being open"). The dates are as painful as they are clever. In one instance, they placed the elf and the Raiderette on opposite ends of a restaurant and made Mark run back and forth between the two for dinner. He had an hour to split with each girl as he saw fit, but When that time was up the girl he was sitting with would get "bonus dessert time with Mark". Bonus dessert time? Wonder if that'll work on a night out with a spouse? "Honey, this conversation had better get a lot more interesting or I won't be sharing any bonus dessert time with you..." Hmmm...might end up picking bread pudding out of my nose for a week, but it could be worth it ;)

Sadly, at the eliminations, the cougars all address the fact that "time is running out" for them. Time's running out? For what exactly? Maybe their days of banging 20 year old waiters from the Outback are over (or then again, maybe not?). But there was a woman in the news recently who just had a baby at 63, so it would seem that they could finish up a few more needlepoint projects and still have plenty of time to nab a husband and drop in a couple of kids.

Regardless, I'm guessing that in the end the age really will matter. Why? Because Mark knows that in 20 years, the kittens will be the cougars, and the cougars will be...even more cougary. It's a crappy system, but at least it's televised for all to understand.

Amazing Race All-Stars Finale (or "Everything's better with Midgets")

It should come as no surprise that Eric & Danielle "secretly" broke up in the middle of the race on their way to winning it. My body language experts tell me that this is the exact moment where it happened...the one where Danielle wants to spend their race money on a cappucino and Eric questions the wisdom of that move with $1 million at stake using every ounce of his smarmy "how can you be that stupid?" demeanor that women just can't get enough of. The only thing missing from this scene is a marriage counselor facing them in a recliner sipping on a cappucino:


Eric then spends the rest of the race trying to figure out how to work his way into that "Beauty Queen Sandwich" that was being applied to Mirna, but will likely have to settle for Jeremy...who seemed a little too excited that Eric had won half a million dollars. "We're rich" indeed ;) Will somebody please get those two a Chihuahua?

But Eric & Danielle's issues weren't the reason that Amazing Race All-Stars was so great. And no, it wasn't laughing in the face of yet another failed attempt by the beauty queens to prove that they can accomplish anything as long as they're dressed exactly alike. Or even hating on Rob & Amber, the Detroit Pistons of reality television. The true genius of the show is that they realize what every great entertainer since P.T. Barnum has understood. Midgets doing anything is worth watching. Here's just a sample of the few things you can improve with the presence of a few judiciously placed little people:

Car Shows:


Airplane Pulls:
Costume Parties:

And, of course, Million Dollar Races Around the Globe:

Ah, Amazing Race....my nielsen rating is yours forever ;)

The PCD Handbook of Sexy

After digesting 3 consecutive hours of Pussycat Dolls, I have to confess that I have no Earthly idea what it takes to be a Pussycat Doll. But that's OK because neither does Robin Antin. Of the final nine, we were left with one that can sing but can't dance, three that can dance but can't sing, a professional reality show auditioner who's rapidly running out of time, two "Scary Spice" clones, a Single Mom/Knicks City Dancer, and Sisely. Now that Robin is forced to pick from this ragtag collection of finalists, I'm guessing that she knows what I already know...it doesn't really matter who you pick because there are already six other dolls to hide her behind. Still, it is a competition with 7 hour-long episodes to fill so you do need to make up a criteria of some kind. She's chosen to fill it with a weekly theme outlining a particular trait "important" to becoming a Pussycat Doll. Interested? Me too...

PCD "Must Have" #1 - Confidence!

In order to be a Pussycat Doll, you need confidence. And in PCD world feminine confidence is built through public displays of semi-nude sexiness. These involve a pole, underwear, and suggestive gyrating motions. You'd think that a 20 year old go-go dancer from Virginia Beach (Brittany) would run away with this, but there's a catch. Yes, you are in your underwear behind plate glass doing a pole dance, but if you turn your ass too many degrees at the wrong angle, you just end up looking like a ham-and-egg stripper...and that's NOT what the Pussycat Dolls are all about. Confused? Join the club. Anyway, this puts Brittany squarely behind the 8-ball because all of her stripper training is now working against her, and she is forced to hang up her boa for her tremendous lack of confidence at the first elimination (or maybe it was because she sounds like a squirrel getting sent through a woodchipper when she sings? I can't remember now...).

Brittany adjusts her confidence prior to her final performance

PCD "Must Have" #2 - Persona!

All good Pussycats bring a unique look and personality to the collective...provided that it's appropriately sexy. And Robin knows that nothing manufactures female uniqueness faster than a good $750 makeover and a t-shirt with a sassy phrase on it! After the pretty girls get turned into different looking pretty girls, we get treated to two uniquely horrific renditions of hit songs. But the elimination round showed just how important it is not to look like other girls. Sisely, who skated by her "Pon De Replay" disaster the previous week on the "not my song type" excuse was tossed a Pat Benatar song that everyone thought she'd HAVE to knock out of the park (seeing as how she works hard at channeling Benatar and it might work if she didn't already look more like the love child of Kirsten Dunst and Kim Jong Il). She booted the song, and STILL made it to the next round simply because she doesn't look like all the other girls. For some reason Robin is desperately clinging to the silly notion that the PCD franchise transcends a physical stereotype. Pretty lofty goals for someone breaking the same ground trampled to death by the Spice Girls 10 years ago.

PCD "Must Have" #3 - Creativity!

Now, the only creativity I can see associated with this show is how Sugar Ray keeps finding new ways to introduce Li'l Kim like she's accomplished something and we're supposed to know who the hell she is (this week's was "One of the most successful female musical performers in history..." huh?). As defined by PCD's Carmit and Ashley, creativity means finding new ways to inject sexiness into everything you do. Carmit insists that you should utilize all the abilities culled from your lifetime of experiences towards this endeavor...kind of like how she uses her competitive gymnastics skills to stretch her legs farther over her head than we could ever have dreamed possible from a music video.

Scary Spice clone #2 invents a clever new way to express herself

Ashley (dubbed "the bombshell of the group" by Robin making her a true bimbo's bimbo) proceeds to inform the girls that "Inside every woman is a Pussycat Doll" trying to scratch her way out. Really? That gives me an interesting field experiment to try in church next week! Who knew?

And after all this, I still can't seem to grasp what it is that they're after, but I know it needs to be sexy because I lost track of how many times they used that word in a single show after it went into the hundreds. However, I AM positive that I wouldn't be taking pointers on
how to look sexy from a woman who has botoxed her face into a contorted permanent grin like the Joker. In the meantime...keep popping those booties girls! It would seem our mutual moment of enlightenment is coming soon enough.

Your friend,

The Big Galoot

Ode to an Aging Princess

Know what I love about Amazon.com almost as much as the user reviews? It's the recommendation lists like these:

Let me preface this by saying I laughed throughout the entire list, and am now a dyed-in-the-wool certified fan...if there were a way for me to anonymously buy an item from the list and have it shipped to the "Outta Banksta", I would have done it. I could also fetch my charcoals and draw you a dead-on picture of this middle-aged-Outer-Banks-obsessed princess because Leesburg is literally filled to the Targets with them. You know the type, big "OBX" sticker on the back of the suburban, kinda sorta in shape and keeps trying to dress like a hip teenager for her day of shopping, kickboxing, and shuffling kids around between her 9:30 AM and 3:30 PM no-whip mochas. She'll follow a trend to the ends of the Earth, she will.

What appeals to this special type of lady? Apparently soap, hurricane literature, timekilling electronic distractions, and hideous wall art. All of the items on the list are cookie cutter trendy, with the exception of the Prada women's handbag which is quite fabulous IMHO. Let's review some of the items together:

1) TomTom GO 700 Portable GPS Navigation with Hands-Free Calling

Outta Banksta says:
	"sometimes prince charming doesn't take vacation days to go along for the ride!"

The Big Galoot says:
"might also come in handy when he gets tired of working like a dog to foot the bill and you need to locate him for future alimony payments!"

2) O, The Oprah Magazine [1-year subscription]

Outta Banksta says:
	"two words: FAVORITE THINGS. Like a private princess wish list"

The Big Galoot says:
"ah, the stay-at-home Bible. Even a princess has to take orders from somebody"

3) MARRIKAS 1000TC Cotton Duvet Cover Set KING-White

Outta Banksta says:
	"a princess's bed should be luxurious"

The Big Galoot says:
"I agree, but you're still sleeping on the wet spot your majesty"

4) (A 3-fer) Pre de provence Gift Box with nine 25g Assorted Soaps, Breakfast Soaps, Lavender and Spearmint Shea Butter Soap

Outta Banksta says:
	"a pampered princess is a happy princess"

The Big Galoot says:
"perhaps this is why I can never find a f*cking bar of soap at the Target"

But I kid because I love...if I ever find myself in the Outer Banks again, rest assured I'll keep a sharp lookout for the Jeep with the ridiculous headlight guards on it and smile knowing that there's a bona-fide princess inside ;)

Loosen Up My Buttons...

If you're like me (and thank God you're not), you're hating American Idol this year. I mean come on, the best singer in the bunch looks like Randy Jackson in a wig.

Yikes! Looks like someone just escaped from the "Dog Pound"

Is this really the face I want to see staring at me from my CD covers? Well, OK. There's a zero percent chance I'll ever buy a CD from American Idol, but is this the face I want staring at me from the new releases section in the Best Buy? Hmmm...if only there were some way you could take the voices of a few background singers and stuff them into a pack of low-rent strippers. Ah, but there is! They're called the Pussycat Dolls, and they're searching for fresh Pussycats on the CW with 33 million American households none the wiser.

But there is one American who watched it...Kevin. He's so new to blogging that we don't have an official handle for him yet...so feel free to send me your recommendations. And now, without further ado...

The first episode of "Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll" runs an entire hour, but manages to completely avoid the central question "why do they need another Doll?" Is 6 not enough? Well, if you look closely, some of them do look a bit tired... No clues given yet, but my guess is that one of them is pregnant (Tommy Lee? David Beckham? Hugh Grant?), and just wants to settle down to a simple life in the country... or not. Look forward to the big reveal and hazing ritual in the last episode, where the final task is to rip out the throat of an existing Doll in a full contact, martial arts cage match (with Jell-O?). Oops, sorry, was channeling Blood Sport there for a second.

So, where to begin. Oh yes, nausea. No, not the stomach virus that swept through the contestant line-up, but the eight endless minutes of the final 18 girls, culled from "about 10,000", waxing poetic about how inspirational the Pussycat Dolls have been in their lives. This would be the same group who's debut album first hit stores in September of 2005. The same group that started life out by erotic dancing at the Viper Den in LA. The same group that had it's first big hit titled "Stickwitu". Yeah, that group. Anyway, the girls have "always dreamed" of being part of such an inspiring group, and some "have lots of talent and are looking forward to sharing it". Okay then.

So, given all that massive talent, you might be surprised to learn that some of the final 18 freely admit that "I'm not a dancer" or are hoping "my dancing will get me through while I learn to sing". Hmmm. Good luck with that. Question: were these the best 18, or is this like American Idol, where some of the no-talent "leaks" through just to fuel the angst? Throughout the episode, we learn that other girls have more practical concerns, like whether they can sing and dance after staying up all night, hold down a meal, or wonder if they look too much like the other girls (my personal favorite). Skin color too similar? No problemo - do we have enough time to hit the tanning bed? You'll be relieved to know that at least one of the "too much alike" problems is resolved by judicious use of a simple hair curler. Just like female MacGyver's, they are.

"Try picking this girl out of a crowded New Jersey rest stop...good luck!" (TBG)

Time for some stats (no, not those stats). Props to the producers for having girls ranging in age from 18 all the way up to 27. Guess who gets cut? I don't want to ruin it for you, but the oldest, and most of the very youngest don't make it. Shocking. But no more shocking than the 30 second segment devoted to one girl's belching contest in the hotel rooms. Yeah, she was cut. In this show, pictures of you on the 'net in compromising poses are simply street cred, but belching the loudest? That's just not Doll-like ;-) Interestingly, this is the same gal who has trouble standing up during dance practice, only to find out later that she has.... a virus!! You should've seen the other girls run away. You could see their skin crawling even on my old low-def TV. Too bad they couldn't run fast enough. About half of them came down with the stomach flu anyway. Much was made of the girls stamina in the face of this crippling illness, and some extra camera time given to the graybeard (so to speak) of the bunch, Sisely, who at age 25 knows how to extol on the virtues of a full night's sleep.

There was some interesting insight given about the music business, with the first lesson delivered in the person of Robin Antin, the "creator" of the Pussycat Dolls. Much like the creation of the Power Puff Girls, I suspect "chemical X" was somehow involved, but the upshot is that Robin's other ingredients were "the best silicone in the valley", a blazingly gay dance choreographer, a voice coach, some sound engineers, the president of Geffen records, and lastly, and certainly least important, a singer. As a side note, never play poker with that voice coach. That guy is amazing. He looks serene, even when listening to a chorus of stepped on cats. Or maybe he's deaf. If so, your secret's safe with me, dude.

I have to admit, given the plastic appeal and artificial creation of the group, I was a bit surprised to find out that each of the Dolls has a name. Sure, they sound like they're straight from Austin Powers, but they are names. Think I'm joking? Try these out... Carmit Bachar, Jessica Sutta, Nicole Scherzinger. Speaking of Nicole, the lead singer, the most riveting scene of the show is when Nicole sits in to judge the first performance, and then blurts out "I love Sisely". Nicole luuuvs Sisely. No, really. When she said it, there was this look of greedy anticipation, like she's sizing up dessert, followed by an awkward silence. She must have realized that everyone was staring, because she then felt compelled to add "Well, you know what I mean." Yes Nicole, yes I do. We all know what you mean. I think we just found the next Doll...

So then there was some dancing, puking, singing, and judging. And just like that, we're down to 9 girls, who will now be moving in together to synchronize their monthly cycles, and also, to learn what it takes to be a Pussycat. I can hardly wait.

Final thought: I now officially hate the song line "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me". They played it during scene cuts about 15 times. Ugh. Cue up the hot dancers, hit the mute button, and roll the credits!

Valentine's Greetings (Introducing the "Hugh-gasm")!

I went to see "Music & Lyrics" over the weekend, and I had something of an epiphany. What was I doing at yet another Hugh Grant movie you ask? Well, the wifey won free movie passes at a neighborhood bunko match for getting the most smileys (huh?), so my cries for "Ghost Rider" fell on deaf ears. I had a hard time making a case for it anyway seeing as how I don't like/understand Ghost Rider or Nicholas Cage. So, after getting suitably beered up at the Sweetwater Tavern, it was an evening of lighthearted romantic comedy.

The scripts for these things reads somewhat like a game of Mad Libs after you've seen enough of them. I'm sure I was annoying everyone in earshot as I called out what would happen next. Goes a little something like this:

A rich, famous, or formerly rich and famous man is handsome charmer with unlimited patience and free time. He is surprisingly unmarried, and does not have a girlfriend or any tendency to sleep around. He meets a girl who is loaded with personality problems disguised as quirkiness (and also unmarried...natch), and either currently dating a cad or has been emotionally devastated by one. In a city (pick one) with 4-11 million people in it, they inexplicably run into each other at every restaurant and park bench until he becomes spellbound to distraction by her oddity and/or confidence at every perfectly scripted 3 minute verbal exchange. As they approach the moment of commitment, he slips ever so briefly into a random solitary moment of cad-ishness himself, setting the stage for the atonement. A moment of spectacular emotional fireworks where he prepares some kind of impossibly coordinated scenario for the sole purpose of begging for forgiveness and professing his eternal love (preferably in front of a crowd of 20,000 in a sports arena of some kind). A moment I've dubbed the "Hugh-gasm". Roll credits.

What is the epiphany, you ask? As I glanced at the couples around me, at the red-eyed women giving themselves cat-baths as their husbands were busily brushing popcorn off of their beer guts (including yours truly ;) ), I realized what I was watching. It's pornography for housewives. Hugh Grant is their Jenna Jameson, with his puppydog expressions (physics-defying eyebrows that somehow bend toward the ceiling at near 90 degree angles) and bumbly-stumbly British accent that perfectly delivers Hershey-Kiss dialogue into the camera and makes it feel like he's actually wooing you. Surely we could all marry the lonely and super-hot Prime Minister of Britain if we just hung around in the right coffee-shops. Just like we could all encounter a super-hot 20 year old female mechanic who loves to perform fellatio on complete strangers at the local Midas.

The payoff at the end was when I was asked on the ride home why in the world Hugh Grant would need to go soliciting prostitutes when he could have any woman he wants and was with Elizabeth Hurley at the time. Ah, but that's the lie Hollywood sells you! Real-life Hugh Grant doesn't want a misunderstood shopaholic to snuggle his days away with. He wants a $20 blow job in a taxi from a Vietnamese girl he'll never lay eyes on again. Smashing!

BTW, I liked the movie very much...it pairs well with a box of Mike & Ike's and an 84 oz. Diet Coke. Go treat your Valentine ;)

Prince Charming, Where Art Thou?

I just saw a story this morning on "Good Morning America" where a New York City dating service has finally called a spade a spade and launched a dating event called "Natural Selection" designed to cut to the chase and exclusively pair up beautiful girls with rich guys. The entry criteria into the event? Guys under 25 need to make at least $200K, 26-30 at least $300K, over 30 at least $500K, or you can have $1M in assets or a $4M trust fund. Girls need to be hot, as judged by event organizers based on 5 photos. Here's a link to the story I dug up online:

http://abcnews.go.com/Business/FunMoney/story?id=2820318&page=1

Hilarious. I also like all of the angry feedback by "impoverished" men and "unattractive" women. But I am indeed inclined to call it "Natural Selection" if these people take each other off the market, however temporarily it may be. In fact, it started to remind me of a couple of old "Average Joe" posts I've done in the past. I've decided to repost them here for your enjoyment ;)

A recommendation for all of you "Average Joes"

If you're not watching "Average Joe 2: Hawaii", you're missing out on one of the greatest societal statements of our time. They take a bunch of nerds, and hold up the promise of a real hot girl in "Bachelorette" fashion. Once everyone gets comfortable, they send in a ship full of obnoxious and shirtless pretty boys. They degrade the nerds further by lining them up against the hunks in gym-class style competitions to win dates with the girl. It's just like high school, only with better editing.

What you will ultimately learn is that girls in their twenties still think they can have it all if they just look hard enough (movie star looks, brains, personality, material success). When they're in their 30's, they figure out that these things rarely go together...then all else is abandoned and it's all about the wallet (refer to the episode of "The Apprentice" where the winning team gets a tour of Trump's posh NY apartment and meets his girlfriend). All this, plus the girl is constantly in swimsuit poses that will make you scramble for the TiVo remote.

Averages Restored

Whew...for a minute there, I thought Melana (the star of "Average Joe") was going to actually stick by her "looks aren't everything" rhetoric and destroy the foundations of everything I'd learned about cheerleaders since high school. Luckily, she did exactly what she was supposed to do, and the balance of society was still intact.

"When Beautiful Melana Chose Vapid but Impeccably Groomed Jason over Good-Hearted but Tragically Average Adam, the Natural Order of the Universe was Once Again Restored"

Sure, Adam was a genuinely nice guy who made her laugh and showered her with gifts and attention that she desperately wants, but cannot get from the pretty boys and Zach-like a-holes she runs with. But you cannot ignore how perfectly matched Jason and Melana are...look how much they have in common! They both have parents that had their baby shoes bronzed, they're both extremely good-looking, they both are practically devoid of bodily hair, and neither one knows that checkers need to be on the same color squares. Plus, Jason is a self-admitted "poor decision maker" and Melana can't manage her money. That sounds like a great team to me, ready for all the challenges life will throw at them.

In the end, Melana had to follow her heart (which was located squarely in her pants) and chose accordingly. What was lost in the shuffle is the fact that there was really nothing interesting about her other than her looks. The only significant thing she's about is apparently (formerly) cheering for the Kansas City Chiefs, and now serves as the team's "Entertainment Announcer". Is that like "Attention! The Chiefs will be playing pinball at the Dave & Buster's on Tuesday from 1:00 - 3:00!" She didn't appear to be particularly funny, intelligent, or a good conversationalist (except when she was busting someone's balls over dinner). But she sure was pretty. And in fantastic shape. I'm sure she smelled nice, too.

Her new beau wants to be a weatherman, which is fitting, since all he has to talk about is the weather. You know it's a bad sign when you have to start talking about how amazing your date is...while the date's still occuring. That's like admitting you've exhausted all topics, but are too physically attracted to be merciful and let it end. In the end all that happened was that two bland pieces of eye-candy took each other off the market for about three months, with no great loss to society.

Yes Sir, Mr. Trump!

If you're not watching the Apprentice's Sixth Season (and according to the Nielsen ratings, you're not), you need to be. Trump's ego is completely raw and unhinged now, and the first five minutes of the premiere were simply golden. "I've got properties all over the place" he declares, as they give you a glimpse of his chauffered town car, private jet, golf course, and rolls royce as he picks his way across the country from New York to L.A. Then you get a nice shot of his new mansion and new Transylvanian fashion hottie wife and new baby (whom she's just borrowed from the nanny for five minutes so she can carry him out to Trump for a stiff kiss to the forehead). I took one look at that and thought "who in their right mind would want to work for this guy after watching this?"

http://www.nbc.com/Video/rewind/full_episodes/apprentice.shtml?show=apprentice01

Who indeed? Cue the cookie-cutter contestants! This year's edition features the requisite batch of meticulously groomed lawyers and loudmouthed kids who happened to luck out timing the dot com and real estate booms. They're all so alike that it was easy for Trump to pick out the final two within minutes of meeting them, which he telegraphed pretty hard...the Harvard Cum Laude Olympic hockey medalist (Trump does enjoy having a conversation piece around), and the white guy in the grey suit (pick one). From those two, he won't hire the hockey champion because she's a girl...and in Trump's world, girls have a singular purpose: looking great and disappearing by the time they're 40. See below:

But as you listen to these candidates talking about themselves in the beginning, you'd think they're pretty much taking over the world. Why on Earth do they need a job from Trump? True, some obviously just want the novelty of being on the show as a marketing tool. Prime example is Kristine, an attractive and polished 37 year old lawyer who's represented the likes of Shaquille O'Neal and is married to a "top 50" chef (whatever that means) who has 2 successful restaurants in L.A. In one carefully placed scene of episode 2, she comes wandering out of her bedroom wearing pink lingerie to take a call from Trump's secretary at 4 A.M. A little moment I've affectionately dubbed "the booty call":

Now when Kobe Bryant needs a lawyer, who do you think he's going to call? Clever girl. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Our first taste of the group dynamic is watching them trying to work together to put up a tent in business suits, and you figure out quickly why a good deal of the rest are here. It's because most are irritating, egotistical bootlickers with no real marketable skills other than what you can pick up online in 6 weeks from the University of Phoenix. The handful of 30-something lawyers are all laying back and letting the 20-something real estate entrepreneurs spontaneously combust before mid-game. Exhibit A is Frank, the initial task manager of the "Arrow" corporation. He's loud and obnoxious and completely unlikable, and in the first episode he's tasked with running a car wash. Now running a car wash is an enterprise that most high school cheerleading squads and boy scout troops can execute flawlessly, but these guys have to run all over the place devising "Marketing Strategies" and "Price Points" with cell phones a-blazin'. Um, can we just sit the two best looking people on a curb with a big sign and grab a bucket and a sponge and start making money? As task leader, Frank's first self-appointed assignment is for him to immediately run off with one other guy to the Kinko's 12 blocks away so he can print out signs on a stack of 8x11 copy paper...leaving the rest of the team without direction standing around looking at each other until one of them decides that they need to move on without him. He shows up like 30 minutes later with his flyers, that his team members wave at the passing cars but they cannot read because they're so small. Eventually, the team manages to compensate for Frank's bungling, but by then it's too late.

Heidi, the "Kinetic" corportation team leader and poor man's Sandra Bullock, seems to get things under control for her team by simply not overcomplicating the task. She's done that twice now, and it's been the key to both of Kinetic's underwhelming wins. She's dubbed "The Hottie" by the show's promos, but in this crew that's a little redundant. That fits my favorite metaphor of Hawkman being dubbed "The Flyer" in the Justice League. She'd better have another angle besides looks. Still, she seems to be able to lead without a lot of obvious theatrics, and that's enough to keep the other crew out in the tents where the task losers have to take up residence.

In the second show, the task gets even more ridiculous. The teams must design swimwear for a well-known swimsuit designer (who I've never heard of...and I'm sure none of you have either) to show to a bunch of prospective buyers. Whichever team's suits sell better wins the task. Each team designs 3 men's suits and 3 women's suits. Now, men's swimwear has to be the easiest thing to figure out since it's basically a pair of shorts. You have two decisions to make, color and length. And guys buy a swimsuit like once every 8 years from whatever store they happen to be in. It is not an event. And personally, I don't care how I look in it...the only thing that matters is that it has pockets for my ice cream money and I'm heading to the register. I'm willing to bet I probably represent roughly 95% of American men in this matter. So Arrow has a buff gay dude who just can't help himself. He basically commandeers the design process for one of the guys' suits and produces a pink and white flowery tropical pair of lycra hotpants (to the measured protests of his team) and demands that he model them himself on the runway as follows:

He calls it "taking a risk", and it is fun to watch Donald and Ivanka in the boardroom teaching him the difference between taking a risk and developing a product suitable for 0.1% of the market to model in front of buyers.

I'm applying next year...if nothing else, America needs me in a swimsuit! LOL!