Diablo Cody: Riding 'Rock of Love Bus'!
The first time I watched Poison's episode of Behind the Music the first, I might add, of what would prove to be many, many viewings I was struck by something. No, it wasn't C.C. DeVille's aureole of peroxide-white hair, which made him resemble a snow monkey from the mountains of Honshu. Actually, I was surprised by Poison's affable, articulate frontman, Bret Michaels. He came off like a friendly Pennsylvania boy, chatting candidly about everything from his sex tape with Pamela Anderson to his battle with the disease he charmingly pronounced ''diabeetus.'' By the time the credits rolled, I found myself wanting to hang out with Bret Michaels. Little did I know that a decade later, the man would be holding televised auditions for the privilege.
You see, that memorable episode of Behind the Music aired in the late '90s, back when John Mayer was still pissed about high school and Posh and Becks were newlyweds. Flash forward to present day Bret Michaels remains on VH1, only now he's embroiled in the third season of Rock of Love, the sleaziest, cheesiest, herpeeziest competitive reality show since, uh, Flavor of Love. And I, predictably, am capital-O Obsessed.
Some of my regular blog readers and Twitter followers are dismayed by my love for this show. I can understand that. Rock of Love is an oft-tragic parade of single moms, not-so-single moms, clownishly overendowed strippers, pathological showbiz wannabes, and the occasional Good Girl who seems perpetually startled by this thing she's stumbled into. All these women are vying shamelessly for the attention of a stranger who expects fidelity from them, but appears to make no such demands on himself. As a feminist (you know, one of those people Lady GaGa thinks are so angry), I shouldn't watch Rock of Love. But as a fallible human being who craves amazing entertainment, I can't not watch it.
NEXT PAGE: Could it be possible that this season, the nice guy from Behind the Music will actually find the blushing rose to his rugged thorn?