Daisy De La Hoya, one of my favorite jilted lovers ever to be dismissed by Bret Michaels on Rock of Love 2, is–rather surprisingly–a strong enough character to carry her own show. Predictably, Daisy of Love features Miss Daisy taking a booze-and-gasp-filled tour down Douchebag Lane, in hopes that she’ll be able to settle down with a boyfriend that’s VD-free and mentally stable-ish enough to emotionally support her through rocky career exploits of modeling and singing.
The series premiere, which first aired over the weekend, introduces viewers to 20 guys vying for the lady of the hour’s heart (Note if you haven’t yet watched: Without fail, every time you gasp in horror at the level of douchery exhibited by a newly-introduced cast member, prepare to hear Daisy say something like, “Yummy!” or “Just my type!”).
It’s like an all-encompassing television answer to the hypothetical questions I often find myself ask when eying the creepy, forced “alt” stores on Melrose Ave., Hollywood Blvd., or St. Mark’s Pl.: “Who the hell buys pre-safety pinned mesh tank tops?” or “Are people still dying their hair with Manic Panic?” or “People don’t pierce their muthafuckin’ foreheads now, do they? ” Oh, and less often: “Is it really possible to get a 6 gauge Prince Albert piercing? That shit can’t feel good.”
By episode’s end, five dudes get the boot. Without blinking, the little lady dismisses three Swedish brothers that share a band, a personality, and a lady (and who seem about as cool as, like, Tokio Hotel), that are more interested in eating the set’s catered buffet than making a love connection. Also saying “lates”: a goofy, pale, high school dropout that Daisy isn’t attracted to.
But as is often the case, the most interesting parts of elimination night are the reveal of the big winner and big loser, in this case also a study of the difference between “Being Asian and Getting Laid” and “Being Asian and Not Getting Jack Shit.”
At the top of the pack lands Daniel, aka Fox:
And how does he seal the deal? Doling out compliments, flashing his pearly whites, and sucking face on the first night. An easy peasy technique that almost always works. Kudos to Fox–can somebody grab this guy a Costco pack of Trojans?
But booooooo… closing out the cuts is Kenn, aka Torch:
If Torch’s chin pubes and Jem hair don’t scare a lady, his weak conversational skills and incessant determination to speak Swahili to non-Swahili speakers certainly will.
Lord knows I won’t miss Torch in the episodes to come. Not him, not his hair, and not his clickity-clackety tongue. After all–with 15 jokers to choose from–Daisy can definitely find herself a better tongue (albeit probably a pierced one).
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