Flavor of Love

Last night I was dealing with a sick toddler who insisted on laying in my bed and only not being fussy while her back was being rubbed but refusing to sleep for longer than thirty minutes at a time. This of course, tends to make writing and editing impossible so I finally gave up after she woke up for the hundreth time.

Bleary, I surfed around until, like the proverbial car wreck, I discovered a bachelor type show with Flavor Flav as the bachelor. Now, I loved Public Enemy and Chuck D is on my list of hottest men to ever walk the planet. But Flav, well, he seems to have a good heart at least.

But the show is like the most horrifying spectacle of stereotypical eye poppery I’ve ever seen. First the women walk around in outfits best saved for say, Hollywood Boulevard or the nuthouse. And you know, while I appreciated the expansive use of spandex, the tube dress so short that much ass is hanging out and the halter dress cut to the navel, I wondered about these women on several levels. One woman tells Flav that he’d have to wait a month to kiss her. Okay, I can respect that. But then he tells her, that he’s not quite sure that’s okay with him. That he can wait but even he has limits. So the next episode she straddles his lap and dry humps him. Understandibly, Flav is puzzled by this change in behavior and tells her so. She’s all giggly and slightly crazy (although a refreshingly lower level of crazy compared to Brigitte Nielson).

The women have nicknames that he’s given them like, “Red Oyster” and “hoopz” My favorite is the utterly crazy “New York” who declares to Flav’s mother, “I LOVE your son.” Flav’s mother, who has had to have seen a lot as his mother, looks for the exits at that one. Oh and “Hottie” who is also batshit and wears odd sort of military themed skankwear and served him a mostly raw chicken in the fried chicken competition. Dude, this made me very very hungry for fried chicken and then they went to a soul food restaurant afterwards and he ordered fried porkchops and greens and I wished for my mother. Sigh.

So oh! Two very favorite moments so far: the first one is when one of the women says how into Flav she is because, “he’s an intellectual.” BWAH! Okay, so that made me laugh and I woke up the sick toddler who then punished me but that’s motherhood. And the second one is when “New York” went to Flav’s room in a bra and panties and saw that two other women were already there, draped over him (hoopz and pumpkin). She sat in a snit and then got in bed and nuzzled his hand in a really inappropriate and utterly creepy way. Later, she called the two women there already “sluts and whores” which made me laugh again.

Oh the chick who cried and shook when she had to touch chicken, the innocent who went all cowgirl on Flav’s crotch, got sent home and went all nuts at the clock ceremony (yes, instead of a rose because you know what time it is!). That was interesting.

I have to stop watching this show. I have to let last night be the first and last time I watch. The trainwreck quality is too high. Although, apparently, crazy girl extraordinare, Gitte Nielson is coming to visit in a future episode. I may have to break the rule for that one.

3 comments to “Flavor of Love”

  1. Millenia Black
    January 25th, 2006 at 12:10 pm · Link

    I’ve seen the promos for this and categorically wrote it off as “garbage”! LOL I got a few laughs from a few snips of the Brigitte and Flav show when it was on, but even that was pushing it. 😉

    Just plain odd. And VH1’s they’re milking it for all it’s worth, aren’t they?

  2. Cathryn Fox
    January 26th, 2006 at 4:37 am · Link

    I never even heard of this show. Looks like that is a blessing.

    I enjoyed reading your post, Lauren. Very funny!!

  3. Cathryn Fox
    January 26th, 2006 at 4:38 am · Link

    Oh, and sorry about the sick toddler. I hope she’s better soon and mommy gets some writing time. My son and I both woke up with sore throats. He went to school though because he had a basketball game and nothing short of internal bleeding would keep him home.