Many thanks to the always awesome Sean O'Neal for filling in last week, and dragging smarty-pants Roald Dahl references into the illiterate wasteland that is the Rock Of Love 2 blog. (Who knew so many lit-loving poindexters read this blog? Honestly, what are you people doing here?) I sure missed a helluva episode, arguably the best of the season so far, but I'm glad I didn't write about it, because Daisy's grotesque crying jag after getting her pass would have caused me to break The A.V. Club record for most "fucks" in one sentence, and who wants to be Roger Maris to Nathan Rabin's Babe Ruth?
The most important part of tonight's episode, of course, was the debut of Bret's totally authentic and not-at-all questionable hairline. What exactly does non-bandana'd Bret look like? Three words: Mannish Lisa Kudrow. Or maybe "more feminine Heather." Either way, Bret surely made a favorable impression on the visiting parents. Anyone with a daughter has the same dream: Some day my little princess will become a scantily-clad and ill-tempered alcoholic, and she will appear on a somewhat popular basic cable reality dating show to fight and claw for the chance to shack up with an aging rock star with a gorgeous, 100 percent real, 0 percent fake, blonde-haired mane. Unfortunately, only one father (or one sister of a Nikki Sixx wax figure) will achieve this dream.
I predicted that Destiney would be booted off last week. Turns out I was one week late, and I actually feel sort of bad that it happened at all. Destiney's crime was admitting that she wasn't in love with Bret, the kind of rational thinking that gets you scorn on Rock Of Love 2 and a driver's license and minimum wage job in the real world. (Also, if it's a crime for Destiney to possibly prefer Jon Bon Jovi or John Stamos to Bret, well, consider me convicted, too.) I also must pay tribute to Destiney's father Tommy, a man so sweet (and tragically cancer-ridden) I can't make fun of him for naming his daughter Destiney.
Bret decided to hold on to Daisy due in no small part to Samantha, her ex-boyfriend's sister, who stood in for D's missing parents. Bret took the ladies to the famous Sunset Strip skeezball bar The Rainbow. I was hoping for a re-enactment of the "Stephanie Seymour sexily beating the shit out of a skank hitting on Axl Rose" scene from the "November Rain" video, but it ended up being a laidback affair, with Bret's fears vis a vis the Nikki Sixx wax figure put to bed by Samantha's "truthful eyes." I'm not sure what exactly makes eyes truthful, just as I'm confused by what make eyes hungry or lyin', but that honest pair of pupils definitely put Daisy in the top two.
Ambre was almost tripped up by "mistakenly" stating her age as 32 when it's really 37, but Bret of all people should be able to sympathize with someone who's not acting their age. Ambre's daddy Randy, who is a fantastic hugger, is the most regular dude ever to be in the immediate vicinity of Bret Michaels, and he alternated between looking uncomfortable and repulsed whenever he was forced to awkwardly interact with his daughter's TV boyfriend. That he didn't stab Bret in the jugular when his daughter said she was in love makes him a more tolerant man than 93 percent of American fathers. Still, he left with the best line of the night: "Any father believes their daughter deserves better than Bret, but he's a good guy." Don't worry, Randy. Ambre is in the final two, but I called Daisy the winner two weeks ago and I'm not backing down now.
Grade: B+