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And THIS Is Why I Love Reality TV: Charming Head Mistress Sharon Osbourne



Yes, I’ll admit that many of us do care about what happened to lots of the contestants after they were cut off from the rockin’ jock of Bret Michaels. As for who cares about Bret Michaels, that’s a whole other story. Whatever, Bret. Anyways, the second season of Charm School attempts to teach a different set of ladies all about proper living. Mo’Nique faced a challenge with the Tastes Like Crazy girls; this time around, the Queen of Metal Sharon Osbourne steps up as Head Mistress, and the challenge is of a different sort. It concerns apples as weapons.

Rock ‘n’ roll groupies are vicious and slightly slutty according to stereotype. I’d like to say that the Charm School girls break that mold. That’s all I’ll say about that. I will say, however, that I still don’t understand why Raven was there in the first place. She didn’t belong on Rock of Love. She doesn’t belong in Charm School. I mean, she needs to learn some manners and how not to put others down, especially while she’s got blonde stringy straw hair, but she does not belong on this show because she’s completely not rock. Even her drama makes me go, Huh? Jessica is a similar story. She doesn’t belong here either; she was way out of her league on Rock of Love, and now she’s above and beyond the point of Charm School. She works for NASA. I’m sure she knows how to put a napkin in her lap, not burp in public, keep her legs closed, and cover up her boobies when necessary.

Despite those snafus, it’s so good to see the drama mamas back on screen.

Lacey pokes at Dallas.

Dallas conks Lacey in the ear with an apple.

Megan manipulates everyone.

Brandi shows off her artistic side by drawing a penis on one of the girls’ clock faces. (Those clocks, btw, confused the rock out of me—are they some sort of big ups to the broke down tambourine man, FF?).

Heather wears outfits made of pleather scraps.

Tuna The Love Tank Inna wears too much makeup.

Destiney, well, she’s come a long way in a short period of time, but she also made out with Frank The Entertainer on I Love Money after he made out with Pumkin so she’s still got some things to learn.

Kristy Jo is mute.

Courtney pulled a Courtney and got too drunk to stay longer than a night. Ah, Courtney, I still love you.

Angelique is French and so we saw the return of the unnecessary yet Hil. Air. Eee. Us. subtitles.

Rodeo cries. She’s still crying. She’s not a pretty crier. She needs to stop that. Plus, how old is she? She should know how to be a woman by now.

Brandi—the other Brandi—whines. A lot. Which is a total front. Brandi is one smart cookie. See, she rocks this airhead persona, but she slipped up and showed her smarts once for all to see. Remember that awful Rock of Love reunion? Bret and Riki Rachtman (we’ll get to that tool in a second) were making fun of her and then she piped up and said, If you put your boobs together, you’ll think better. That shut the two of them up pretty quickly. I usually don’t like to make predictions, mostly because my predictions are immediately follwed up by that person losing, but if not the winner, I call for Brandi to make it to the final two.

Now for Riki Rachtman. This dude needs to not be on my tv. I truly used to love the guy when he hosted all those video shows when metal was metal and hair was big. Then he did the whole reunion show thing with Bret Michaels and, well, turned into a douche. Why did he have to lie and say he was following Bret’s every move with each episode? Why did he have to pander to the absolute mindlessness and try to become some sort of gossip talk show host that he could not pull off? Like, even in theory, that’s a bad idea. Dude, come on. You’ve gone from heavy metal host to charm school dean. You know there are so many things wrong with that.

The other dean is the wife of the guitar guy who doesn’t like female lead singers to hump him. If you watched Rock Star, you know what I’m talking about. I wish I could remember his name, but all I’ve got in my brain right now is Izzy Stradlin and that’s not him. Plus, I don’t think that’s how you spell Izzy Stradlin anyway. So the dean, whose name I also cannot remember, is a clothing designer and a rockin’ woman. She knows how to be a lady, but we can all tell that she’s seen her fair share of on-the-road drunken careening hair-pulling bus bathroom orgies. She’s always got some pretty good advice for the girls, even if that advice is scripted in advance in the form of The Ten Commandments of Rock of Love Charm School. Daniella Clarke! That’s her name. Daniella Clarke! Which means that the dude I’m talking about is whosiewhatsie Clarke. Gilby Clarke? Gibson Clarke? Les Paul? Dobie Gillis? Whatever. Not important.

Sharon Osbourne is one classy lady. No one is better for the position of Head Mistress of Rock of Love Charm School than Sharon Osbourne. This lady is so classy that even when she says, fuck fucker fuckety fuck fuck, she’s classy. She’s seen everything, heard everything, been through everything that any rock chick needs to know about. We’ve seen her whip the Prince of Darkness Ozzy Osbourne into shape, and she’s the sole reason that he returned into pop culture in the past decade. She’s smart. She’s sassy. She’s on America’s Got Talent and I still love her. She signed on with MTV and VH1 for reality show after reality show but still keeps true to herself and her business savvy and has not sold out at all. The girls should be shaking in their stilettos every time they see her. They should fall to the ground in her presence. They need to listen to her. She’s the Queen of the Rock Scene.

All hail Sharon Osbourne, Head Mistress, and one effing class act.

For more banter about expulsions, detentions, and other school related naughtiness, email me or chat in the forums.

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