doesn't that need some editing?

YES! He just added a missing "and."

which gabor sister was married 13 times? Magda? Maybe shes trying to top her.

"Accidental", hornymoon sex tape to follow in three, two, one, I'm sure it's out by now.

WHAT. No. What. No.

Somewhere, Shannon Doherty is laughing her ass off.

Or she's punching some poor random person in the head.

this girl needs to just marry tommy lee again and get it over with, you know they're still knocking boots.

"Somewhere, Shannon Doherty is laughing her ass off." I love it!
Couple of years? Try couple of months. Barf.

She said she fell in love with him accidentally, while doing sexual favors to pay off a poker debt. How fucking romantic. This woman is disgusting.

Someone please kill me. I think he's cute. A cute, shallow, insensitive douchebag but cute nonetheless.

He's cute in that, I swear that cameras not on, kind of way.

eeks, don't be so judgemental, these are the things that fairytales are made of.

I haven't seem something so romantic since last nights shocking finale of, Rock of Love.

Amen juju. Amen. Did anyone else see the video where Jess and Mia were interviewed at a radio station in Chicago and they asked Jess if she was there looking for love and she burst into laughter? no? here it is, http://youtube.com/watch?v=4W4FCQOEpMY

She probably woke up the next day and was thinking, I'm sleeping with Bret Michaels? That's when she broke up with him and went back home. Don't threaten me with a good time.

I told you ho bags from the beginning, Jes was my favorite. Did she win? Or will VH1 just keep showing reruns of the other episodes like they did with every single show they've ever had.

You know that thing will be on at least 5 times in the next 5 days probably ending in a Saturday or Sunday marathon.

She did win. It was glorious. Bret asked the girls if they would both be his girlfriends and of course Heather said yes and Jess said she couldn't stand for that. "Its not in me" So he picked Jes, and Heather stormed out without saying goodbye and ripped off the necklace he gave them both and went off in the limo about how much of an asshole he is and how she has a losers name tattoo'd on her neck.

That was the greatest storm off in reality history.

It really was. I loved Jes' little quips about Heather's 80s porn hair. I didn't really think 80s porn, I thought more Tawny Kitaen.

Did anyone else sort of hope that Jes was going to decline when she walked down the very non-conventional walkway of rose petals? She was chewing that lip like she was making a tough decision. I lost the tiniest bit of respect for her when they started going at it like high schoolers. She's way to cute and fun for an old geezer like him. And if he's so concerned about his "di-ah-beet-us," why does he drink? I like to say it the proper way, "di-ah-beet-eez." Go inject that in your ass, Brent.

It did kind of catch me everytime he said "di-ah-beet-us"

thats how they pronounce it around here.. imean its clearly wrong, by my whole family talks about their di-ah-beet-us

Oh wow! How very "Solomon Offers To Cut The Baby In Half" of him. What a throwback.

Oh, wow, and we're back to Solomon. It's sort of on topic.

I am seriously looking forward to the reunion show next week. Hoping that Jes saw the light, and Bret made up for breaking Heather's heart by showing up at the strip club and surprising her.

Here's how I see it:

Smoky strip club, the second "a" burned out in the purple neon sign proclaiming "Tata's, A Gentlemen's Club." Cut to a stage, lonely under the lights, where our Heather dances slowly, languidly, against a pole. She doesn't toss her hair around like she used to, perhaps because of the permanent reminder of Good Times Gone Bad that's etched upon her tanned neck. And her eyes, though fully made up, lack the intensity that once saw her through a good five or six lap dances with no breaks in between.

Cue the audience, a straggly group of men who linger in she shadows just beyond the harsh red and yellow stage lights. As she approaches each one, legs splayed open, inviting a dollar bill or two, she notices one stranger who seems oddly familiar. Long leather jacket with fringe lining up and down the sleeves, tattered blond hair hanging limply underneath an old cowboy hat. Her heart skips a beat, then the coldness settles in again. He wouldn't be here, the bastard. He's with her, probably making sweet love in the Jacuzzi as she works to earn her next highlighting session.

Unlike the rest of the idiots, who seem content to throw their singles at her with minimal contact, this one holds back. She can sense him noticing her, but he refuses to raise his head so that she can catch a glimpse of him. Then she notices it: the slightest trembling of his hands. Probably his first time in a strip club, and her shattered heart steels for what's next: she's going to bilk him out of every penny he has. He's scum, just like all the others, and she's gonna make him pay.

"Can I interest you in something a little more private?" she sneers, but he doesn't seem to hear her. Kneeling down, her ass up in the air still swaying with the fading strains of Loverboy's "Workin' For the Weekend," she tries again. "Do you want a lapdance or not?" she asks, the anger now present in her voice. Fuck him. She doesn't need him or his money. He shakes his head, then holds out his hand abruptly. Sucker, she thinks, as she steps offstage. It is only then that she gets a look at him, and what she sees causes her to wobble in her seven inch heels.

di-ah-beet-us is a very Wilfred-Brimley-spokesperson-for-diabetes way of saying diabetes

His eyes are a little puffier than usual, and they seem less intense without the blue eyeliner that he typically wore during taping. Her heart now in her throat, she tries to pull her hand away. He holds tight, a plea written across his face. "Wait," he finally says, and his voice is raspier than she remembers. "Fuck off," she tells him. "You're a coward and a liar." With a jerk, she frees herself from his grasp and quickly heads towards the door marked, "Dancers Only."

"I am a coward," he calls. And she stops in her tracks. "It's you I should have picked from the beginning," says Brent. "The producers, they made me…" He knows this sounds ridiculous, and indeed it does. But for the sake of brevity and closure, we must wrap this up. So after many hours of tequila shots, a new guitar necklace and countless hours spent doing things that would sicken everyday folk, Heather and Brent become one. They film their own reality show, "Every Rose Has it's Thorn," which follows Brent on a tour that has him highlighting town fairs, getting freaky with groupies, and finally being dumped by Heather, who realizes that she and Big John make a great couple. The End.

(By the way, VH1 calls the show "Every Rose has its Thorn",) but neither of them understands how the apostrophe works, so I wrote it they way they do on their respective myspace pages.

You had me at dia-beet-us

WOW. p.s. Lale I loved your work for Harlequin.

This one's rarin' to steal Brit's thunder.