Sunday, Booby Sunday

I am so sick of Voldebitch and these houseguests (and we’re only at week 3) that I felt like: to Hell with posting pictures of them, so the one above is all you get. It happens that Pasha, tWitch, and Brandon are back on So You Think You Can Dance now, as “all-star” dancing partners for the much-lamer contestants, so they can’t be eliminated. So I’m posting pictures of them instead, because they are nice, talented, and very, very hot, unlike out star houseguests. Here’s Pasha dancing alone on the stage.



Unfortunately, I’ll still be talking about She Who Can Not Be Endured, and her Reign of Error in the Big Brother House. She’s so horrible, even Homophobic Asshole can no longer stand her.

Jordumb: “I would-a loved to put up Brendan and Rachel but I couldn’t...” Yes, you could have and then we’d be rid of Voldebitch! “... ‘cause it’s too early in the game to make everybody mad.”

It would not have made “everybody” mad. It would have made Bookie and Boobiac mad. Everyone else would have been happily, joyously, voting She Who Can Not Be Endured out the door on her silicone ass. And besides, Everything makes She Who Can Not Be Endured mad, so why not do it in a good cause, like disposing of She Who Can Not Be Endured once and for all? Instead, you’ve made me mad. Plus, if you wait too long, like they did last year, you’re stuck with Voldebitch in the Jury House.

Seeing Voldebitch triumphant and smug is worse than seeing heaps of butchered babies. It is worse than a double-feature of Skidoo and Sextette. “Cassi, you want to accuse me of being catty, of being bitchy?” asked Voldebitch cattily and bitchily. One does not accuse She Who Can Not Be Endured of being catty and bitchy; one merely notices it. One does not “accuse” the sun of setting.

Dominic: “The Regulators could be the worst alliance of all-time.” Dom, The Regulators ceased to exist a week ago. Catch up.

She Who Can Not Be Endured about her second HOH win: “I am on fire!” If only she were. No one would piss on her to put her out. (And besides, she charges extra if you want to piss on her, and who doesn’t?)

“She is the brains behind our operation,” said doctoral-candidate Bookie about his “fiancee.” The really pathetic part is: he’s right. But why would he brag about being even more stupid than Voldebitch? Hang thy head in shame, Bookie.

Adam: “God, when will these veterans stop winning HOH?” When you start winning one yourself, moron. So far, all you’ve won is the Most Obnoxious Male in the House award, and Lawon thinks he was robbed on that. (Speaking of Lawon, something the houseguests seldom do, has he got a Golden Key? Because we see less of him than we do of Edsel. Edsel apparently thinks her Golden Key means three weeks off. Daniele, hardly a dynamic player, got the first Golden Key, and yet she’s still actually playing.)

Lawon had worked out that he & Queen Kalia (Is she still in the house?) Or Adam and Steve were the most likely nomination prospects, therefore: “I’m-a fight like a dog up in here.” Aside from his peculiar choice of prepositions, and his annoying use of “I’m-a” for “I’m going to,” it was an empty shout. (Stop shouting in the Diary Room, Lawon. You’re miked.)

She Who Can Not Be Endured: “Who wants to see my HOH room?” If only they’d all stayed in hiding, or just sat there and ignored her. No one wants to see it, just as no one but Bookie wants to be in a room with her. Ever. They pelted her with pillows. Guys, you have frying pans. Use those to pelt her, and heat them up to white hot first.

First up to kiss the gigantic butt of She Who Can Not Be Endured was Adam. Voldebitch ain’t buying what he’s selling. And I would be very okay with seeing him gone this week.

Next in the Analingus Parade was Lawon. “I’m ready to play,” Lawon said. Good. The game began three weeks ago. Why weren’t you ready to play then? “I would rather be napping right now than listening to someone talking in circles,” said Voldebitch, and stop the presses, I agree with her on this. In fact. I’m gonna take a nap right now.

What time is it? It’s Monday afternoon? Oh bother. Well, onward.

She Who Can Not Be Endured on her forthcoming nomination choices: “Nobody in the house is safe.” What about Bookie? What about the three people with Golden Keys? How about saying true stuff rather than spouting Big Brother cliches that are not true just now anyway?

Okay, Homophobic Asshole needs to get it into his head that snoring is not something that can be controlled by the sleeper since - Hello? - They’re asleep. And secondly, snorers only learn they are snorers when they are informed by others of this fact. They don’t know it. They’re asleep at the time. Get a friggin’ clue, H.A. Who would have told Dom, who has never slept away from his Mommy’s home, nor ever slept with someone else? (Virgin! Remember?) Does he think Dom’s Mommy would have told him? Little Dougie has a snore that can rattle China, and I don’t mean cups in the kitchen, I mean the country of China. It worked out well for him. When he was on tour in shows, the producers had to fork out for a separate room for him, as no one else could get any sleep sharing a room with him. The whole rest of the cast was stuck sharing. Heh, heh, heh.

And Dom’s snore is a Brahm’s lullaby compared with Voldebitch’s laugh.

No food nor luxury competition this week. Oh, there was a competition, but it was a Penalty Competition, as the winners were subjected to torture. She Who Can Not Be Endured shrieked in a voice that would make one long for the music of Dom’s snoring that there would be no Have-Nots this week. Well, except that she took a two-week slop pass less than a week ago, so she’s still eating slop. Also speaking it, and drooling it on her silicone bags.

Adam’s obsession with Torie Spelling, who, if she ever set eyes on him, would call Security, is pathetic. Why not be obsessed with someone who has - I don’t know - talent? Adam, when your parents told you to grow up, that meant “mature,” not “grow to 300+ pounds.” Besides, they said a celebrity was visiting, not a has-been celebrity. (Though, as it happens, they were lying. It was David Hasselhoff, the drunken ex-celeb wash-out who, every week on America's Got Talent, does his best to disprove the show’s title.)

Adam, carrying on like a fat 13 year old girl with pimples spotting Taylor Lautner: “Am I wearing something nice?...” No. You’re wearing a T-Shirt praising bacon. The interesting thing about T-shirts in praise of bacon is they only make them in the sizes XXL, XXXL, and XXXXL. There is no market for smaller versions of it. Also, Torie Spelling hasn’t eaten bacon in her life, and probably has no idea what bacon is. Just seeing the word makes her gain weight.

Adam continues: “...Is she gonna think I’m cute?” No. And shut up, Adam.

Why is no one asking: is it Hugh Jackman? Is it Barry Humphries? Is it Sir Christopher Lee? Is it Eliane Stritch? Is it Harrison Ford? (He’s got a movie to plug.) Is it Amy Winehouse? (They don’t know. BTW, her autopsy today released her Cause of Death. It was “Being Amy Winehouse.”) Is it Maggie Smith? Is it someone I would cross the room to see? Perhaps because even these losers realize that no A-List celebrity, nor B-List Celebrity, nor D-List celebrity, is desperate enough to come on Big Brother to plug some fresh career embarrassment. This is a gig for a Z-List celebrity plugging a scraping-the-bottom-of-the-barrel-new-film-or-TV-show, and that is exactly what they got.

Bookie: “If it’s Torie Spelling, who’s going to restrain him?” The courts ... AGAIN! But if it is Torie Spelling, who will restrain the monkeys that will fly out of all of their butts?

They applauded for the bald nobody who stepped out. Talk about Pavlovian responses. They had no idea who he was. I knew who he was, as I recognized him from the endless commercials for this new show with its horrifically stupid premise. (You swap places for a week with a celebrity who has your name. Idiotic. Little Dougie has the same name as a professional Sean Connery impersonator in Scotland. Just what he needs to do, spend a week wandering around Edinburgh trying to look like Sean Connery. Good luck. Oh wait! What if Adam has to spend a week wandering around the Garden of Eden on TV naked? Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, eeeeeeeew!) So I knew it was “David Hasselhoff.”

So they were given clues to what celebrity this guy had the name of, and the “winners” were then penalized by being forced to watch the first episode of this epically terrible show, a show that belongs not on CBS, but on some really obscure cable channel, like Logo or Sleuth or The Inspiration Network or Fox News. Someplace where they will watch anything.

“David” told them that on the show he got to “live the exciting life of an international superstar.” And then after that, he had to live the life of David Hasselhoff.

The first clues were bars of soap and opera glasses. Everyone found getting “soap opera” from those clues challenging, mostly because none of them knew the term “Opera Glasses.” I guess Adam never attends any Metal Operas. But most managed to work out that “soap” might mean “soap opera,” they just couldn’t figure out what “binoculars” had to do with soap operas.

I must grudgingly give Jordumb credit. She called them “Opera Sun Glasses.” Okay, the extra word she added to an otherwise right name did lift it into the realm of silliness. Opera Sun Glasses? For watching operas outside in the sun? But no one else could come up with the word “opera.” Her mind is amazing. She figured soap was for washing (I’m glad to learn she knows that. I had my doubts.), and then that “binoculars” were for “watching.” So then she came up with the idea that you might use soap to wash in the bay (Oops. Even after winning the money last year, she still doesn’t have indoor plumbing? Ah hillbillies.), and you might watch someone washing in the bay with binoculars (Hmmm, a pervy twist to her “logic”) and came up with Baywatch. So then she asked Homophobic Asshole who the star of Baywatch was, as that was beyond her limited store of “knowledge.” He at least knew it was “David Hasselhoff” so that was her answer. This is a true idiot savant, with the emphasis on “idiot.” She read the clue entirely wrong, and got the right overall answer via an imaginary route that involved bathing outside in a bay while watched by a perv with binoculars. (An everyday occurrence for her?) Incredible. She registered her guess, and the contest was over on the first clue. They carried on anyway.

Bookie to She Who Can Not Be Endured: “We can’t guess on the first clue. That would be stupid.” True, but the stupid one stupidly did, and so stupidly won the penalty.

The second clue was a microphone that was unplugged. Dom got “singer who was a soap star,” which was warmer, but then he had “no idea”. How about Rick Springfield? I guess Mommy rigidly controls Dom’s TV viewing too, although she lets him watch Big Brother.

She Who Can Not Be Endured picked up on the subtle part of the clue; the mike was not plugged in. Hence: a bad singing soap star. Yup, nails it as Hasselhoff. But she couldn’t hold two clues in her mind at once, so just went with a bad singer, thus coming up with Michael Bolton.

Bookie then guessed Michael C. Hall. Hello? Good guess, doctoral candidate. He’s not a singer and he’s not a soap star. But he is on Dexter playing a likeable serial killer (Well, as likeable as a serial killer can be), and he was on Six Feet Under as a mortician. He’s always associated with death. Is it because deep down Bookie wants to kill She Who Can Not Be Endured or because deep down he wants to die? Either way, the guess had nothing whatever to do with any of the clues. Bookie, when Jordumb gets it right, and you’re not even close, who’s stupid now?

She Who Can Not Be Endured whispered in Edsel’s ear, enraging Bookie, which isn’t hard. We learned last summer what a rage-aholic he is. But VIP Waitresses/Whores must stick together. Edsel registered her guess: Michael Jackson. Well, he was a singer, and since he’s dead, I suppose the mike could be unplugged because he no longer needs it. And the soap bars were for washing the black out of his skin, as he so weirdly did all his life, and the opera glasses were so kids could see him while remaining far enough away that he could not touch them. It all fits, if you’re an idiot. So yes, Edsel, they are going to wheel out the corpse of Michael Jackson. Maybe you should have tried guessing someone who is alive.

Adam’s stupid guess: "Ricky Martin." And just what was the soap that Ricky was on? For that matter, what is Adam on?

Lawon: “Barbra Streisand.” World’s gayest answer. At least he realized it had to be someone alive, so he didn’t guess Judy Garland. What was that soap opera that Babs was on again? Oh, and Lawon, here’s a Reality Check for you: UNDER NO CONCEIVABLE CIRCUMSTANCES, NOT EVEN TO BRING WORLD PEACE, WOULD BARBRA STREISAND EVER APPEAR ON BIG BROTHER!!!

Next clue, a knight in armor carrying a lifeguard’s floatie thingee. Now, short of actually writing “David Hasselhoff” on the knight’s chest, could there be a more on-the-nose giveaway “clue” that it’s Hasselhoff? Homophobic Asshole’s guess: “Mike Knight.” Oh man, is he stupid. He guessed Hasselhoff’s Character in Knightrider. H.A., the “celebrity” about to enter will be a real person, not a fictional character. (I should add that my first reaction to “Mike Knight” was “Who?” I had to Google the name. You see, I have never been so utterly desperate for entertainment as to have watched even one episode of Knightrider. It’s bad enough that I watch this. Drinking myself into oblivion was always a more attractive choice than watching Knightrider.)

She Who Can Not Be Endured’s guess: “Keira Knightly.” Okay. She is a real person. I see how Boobiac got that, assuming one ignores all the clues except the suit of armor (which was not a female suit). But again, Boobster, it is inconceivable that a star of that magnitude would show up on Big Brother. Think washed-up. Think desperately clinging to fame. Think rehab. These are the sorts of “stars” who would stoop to doing this show. Eliminate any celebrity that still has a shred of self-esteem or self-respect. Oh dear. Now I have to explain what “self-respect” means to Boobiac.

Edsel: “Brian McKnight?” Edsel, you moron, you’ve already registered an hysterically wrong answer. You don’t get to register two wrong answers. (And it’s another guess that only takes the armor into account, and ignores all other clues.)

Dominic did a bit better. He went with John Stamos. (And I would love to go with John Stamos!) Okay. He was a soap star. He does sing, and has done so on Broadway. But what about the knight and the floatee thingee?

Dom also took a second guess. I’m sorry. It seemed to me that you got one guess, not dozens. He guessed Marky Mark. I missed Marky Mark’s soap opera gig, and his stint playing a knight who carries around a floatee thingee, and when he became washed-up enough to do this show. If only it had been him. I’d love to have seen the clue for him in Boogie Nights. Maybe a really huge zucchini?

Not only was Jordumb’s guess, after one clue, right; she was the only person to get it right. (Even Hasselhoff himself had guessed Charo.) They were all so stupid that when the famous version of David Hasselhoff stumbled out of the Knightrider car (I hope someone else drove it.), I expected them to think he was a clue to someone else, and still keep giving idiot guesses: “Sharon Osborne?” “David Tennent?” “Michelangelo’s David?” “The car from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?” “Calvin Hoff?” (A guy I went to high school with. Highly intelligent, too much so to watch this drivel. Teaches high school drama in Fresno. Lovely man. Good singer. And every bit as good a guess as Barbra Streisand.)

The houseguests cheered Hasselhoff, though my reaction would have been a groan and going back inside. I counted the seconds it took for someone to say “Don’t hassle the hoff,” that meaningless, idiot phrase that means nothing. It was 7 seconds before Dom said it. Though, in Dom’s defense, Mr. Hasselhoff was wearing aT-shirt that said that, so Dom was just reading aloud. Another triumph for home schooling. I guess he couldn’t find a shirt about bacon in his size.

How I wish Adam had angrily shouted: “You’re not Torie Spelling! Fuck You!” and stormed away inside. Or still better, if Adam had screamed: “TORIE, IT’S YOU!” and then raped The Hoff. His shirt says nothing about not raping him.

Hasselhoff is a man in desperate need of hassling, or as some call it, an “Intervention.” Look how deep his sickness has dragged him. It’s not bad enough he’s on this crappy new CBS show, the sort of show that calls Kathy Griffin an “International Superstar,” (We adore Kathy, but she is literally the first to tell you she’s a D-Lister) in other words, something that belongs on Bravo, not CBS, but The Hoff (Well, we used to call Calvin that sometimes) is truly scrapping through the bottom of the barrel to the dirt beneath the barrel by appearing on Big Brother.

Lawon in The Diary Room: “The Hoff was in the house.” Could you possibly manage to say something original, Lawon? Something not hackneyed and meaningless? No? I’m not surprised.

Frankly, watching the houseguests spend ten minutes kissing Hoff’s ass was not riveting entertainment.

Dom said he had a better prize, he got to tuck in Hasselhoff. He is a virgin! Dom, you need, need, need to get out of Mommy’s home permanently.

They made a big deal out of announcing who had won the competition. Since they all now knew the right answer, and Jordumb was the only person to guess the right answer, there was not much suspense.



But while a visit from Hasselhoff is a bore, and watching the new TV show (I’ve been deliberately not naming it. They haven’t paid me to plug it.) Is more of a punishment than a reward, it did pay off rich dividends, since Jordumb wanted to have a pleasant viewing experience, and that meant excluding She Who Can Not Be Endured. It’s not possible to have fun with her in the room. Sweet, Jordumb. And this blatant snub unleashed Voldebitch.

She Who Can Not Be Endured: “What is going on in your head, girl?” She doesn’t enjoy being around you. Nor does any sane human. Voldebitch was offended by not having her butt kissed. But this terrible show they are going to be subjected to will be hard enough to enjoy without the further hindrance of having Voldebitch in the room, her mouth going, her laugh grating. Boobster, if you wanted to see the show, and ruin it for everyone else there, maybe you should have tried a more intelligent, well-thought out guess than Keira Knightley.

As if having to watch this trash TV show CBS was flogging was not punishment enough, there was Sushi laid out for everyone, which they were insanely cheering for. I guess they’re all big fans of getting intestinal worms. Sushi is not food; it’s bait; something you use to attract actual food, food one cooks!

Queen Kalia, who is clearly unaware that she’s such a bore, Alison Grodner has not even bothered to include a single Diary Room comment of hers in weeks, (Lawon gets more airtime, and he’s such a complete bore, he’s become a running joke to the other players.) called it a “princess room,” as though it was laid out for her. Did she even make a guess as to the answer? Her full-of-herself Princess/queen schtick makes me sicker than Sushi does. Grow up, woman.

Hasselhoff is so lame, even Homophobic Asshole realized his “interest” in them was politely-but-unconvincingly feigned. After all, it was clear he’s never watched the show at all, so his lack of interest was obvious. But he was nice.

While CBS was busy trying to sell a wretched, idea-free new show, and poisoning the “winners” upstairs, real entertainment was happening downstairs. Bookie, sore about losing a chance to eat raw, rotting fish (He gets enough of that at bedtime each night with Boobiac) while watching a worse TV show than the one he’s on, decided to light into She Who Can Not Be Endured for giving away answers, ignoring the fact that neither one of them came up with the right answer, so their winning was never at issue (They were lucky to figure out who it was even with him standing in front of them), and further, the answer she gave away to Edsel was wrong anyway, so she wasn’t helping Edsel, but sabotaging her. Not that Edsel couldn’t have failed all on her own.

But this was bound to unleash Voldebitch, who was already pissed about being snubbed by Jordumb. They went into a bedroom to have a nice loud fight that everyone else downstairs could hear every work of without being seen to listen to them. It was the losers who were getting the entertainment. The losers won and the winners lost.

Voldebitch turned weepy instantly, and said: “I can’t do anything right.” Well darling, you can’t.

Bookie threatened to leave. She Who Can Not Be Endured replied “Good, leave,” which is always the proper response to emotional blackmail. Bookie responded “Is that what you really want?” Well it’s what I really want! But take your trash (She Who Can Not Be Endured) with you!

She Who Can Not Be Endured had actually worked out that this competition was utterly unimportant. To Bookie, no competition is unimportant. He is what scientists call “a tool.” Outside the room, Edsel, Adam, Dom, Dani, and Lawon were in the kitchen, but it was the argument they were eating with a spoon.

Dom: “They’re like third grade kids.” Now, now, Dom, you’re being very unfair - to third grade kids. These two are like pre-schoolers. It’s understandable. You spent third grade in your living room with Mommy. You’ve never known any third grade kids. They’re vastly more mature than Bookie & Boobiac.

Upstairs Hasselhoff suddenly remembered a previous engagement and scrammed, but not before he made all the women smell his liquor-breath, I mean kissed these old, close, intimate total strangers goodbye. Ah, vodka, the world’s sweetest perfume. He knew the show was about to run, and even though it was most unlikely that they would turn on him 15 minutes into it and lynch him (Though not outside the realm of possibility), staying longer would mean he would have to watch it. And he knew better.



Hasselhoff’s Diary Room evaluations about Homophobic Asshole and Jordumb based on 20 minutes of their kissing his ass were, of course, utterly value-free. Besides, he was high on Sushi.

I have to say I completely respect Jordumb’s reasons for not picking Voldebitch. Totally sensible. My Dog. Respecting Jordumb. I feel a bit dizzy. My system is not used to it.

Downstairs, Bookie was showing the maturity one expects of a man allegedly going for a Phd, by wanting to put Homophobic Asshole and Jordumb on the block for saving them from having to endure the hideous TV show the winners were being subjected to upstairs. Hey, it’s okay with me. They deserve to go up. Not for not picking Bookie & Boobiac to eat rotting fish upstairs, but for not putting them on the block last week. That ought to rebound on them. ‘Twould be justice.

Remember, Bookie was the one two weeks ago trying to remind Voldebitch to play from strategy, not emotion; now here he is, having a snit, throwing strategy out the window and playing emotionally.

She Who Can Not Be Endured: “We are our own worst enemies in this game.” In the words of WC Fields (wisest man who ever lived): “Not while I’m alive.” She added: “We’re a self-destructive couple.” Well get on with your self-destructing then. I want to see it.

Upstairs, the winners are watching some fat farm woman learn the hard way reasons for the famous imprecation: “Friends don’t let friends ride power lawn mowers drunk.”

Downstairs, Bookie is getting all weepy, crying like a little girl. The biggest question about these two as a future husband and wife is: will their marriage end in divorce, or in murder-suicide? I root for the latter.

Dom decided to strike while the iron is soggy, and came in to kiss their butts. He had a solid logic for being aligned with them: they would always be a bigger target than him, the same reason Boston Rob kept Big Chief Numbnuts around all through last season’s SURVIVOR. And that was a winning strategy that made Rob a millionaire, and made Chief Numbnuts the laughing stock of Reality TV.

“Your word better be good,” said Voldebitch to Dom, though the least-trustworthy person in that room is her, as her nominations shortly proved.

Sadly Bookie & Boobiac did not break up, and Bookie didn’t walk out. Drat!

Dani put pressure on Bookie & Boobiac to nominate Homophobic Asshole and Jordumb. It would be a smart move, which is part of why they didn’t do it, but the main reason they didn’t is the same reason Jordumb didn’t nominate them last week. Cowardice.

Adam & Dom were nominated. Each is certain he has a deal with The Horror Couple and is safe. It’s week one all over again. If they’re still up on Thursday, I do hope it’s Adam who leaves. Hopefully no one will be so stupid as to try to throw the POV competition, because those crazy snakes can not be trusted.

But I can be trusted to be back later in the week, to hurl verbal stones at the players some more as we see how it plays out. Now, can I watch tWitch (That’s how he spells it, with the small t and the capital W) dance now please?

Cheers darlings.