I used to be in love with Bret Michaels, the lead singer of Poison. For those of you who were either too young, too old, or too smart to know who this is, let me give you a little background. Poison was really popular in the mid-to-late eighties, around the same time as Def Leppard and Motley Crue. Some people referred to them as "hair bands." And I loved them all. But none so much as Poison. Mostly because of Bret Michaels. I had a poster of him on my bedroom wall and I blotted my Cover Girl Rose Quartz lipstick on his face every morning before high school. I listened to "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" and dreamed that he was singing it to me...I was the rose, but alas, too young to legally date him, so there is the thorn. Two of my high school girlfriends and I actually memorized the lyrics to "Nothin' But A Good Time" and acted out (oh God, this is worse than I remembered) the video back when MTV still showed music videos all day. His concert was the first one my parents ever let me go to and I actually cried when he came on stage. I forced a small Asian kid to his knees so I could climb on his shoulders in order to get a better view of the stage (and by this, I mean put myself up there so Bret would suddenly spot me in my frumpy Kappa Sig sweatshirt and torn jeans and realize I was the woman for him.) This poor dude shook the whole time I was up there. I finally got down when I realized that, not only was I killing this poor guy on the ground, but I wasn't glamorous enough or naked enough to get Bret's attention. Ok, so I was a complete dork.
The point of telling you this is that I've had a chance recently to get reacquainted with Bret lately. He's on VH1's Rock of Love (white trash version of The Bachelor), trying to find his one true love. It seems that twenty or thirty years of hard rock 'n roll living has made it tough for him to find someone who truly loves him for him and not just for his "talents."
So as it turns out, Bret is not really that fabulous. In fact, he's downright disgusting. I mean, don't get me wrong. I still record every episode of Rock of Love and scream at my children if they try to interrupt me while I'm watching it. But I wouldn't dream of hanging a poster of him on my bedroom wall. And when I imagine the cooties crawling in his bedroom or in that cesspool he calls a hot tub, I actually throw up in my mouth a little bit. But this show is hilarious. There are, apparently, at least 25 ladies (I'm using this term loosely here) who still find him absolutely dreamy. The latest episode involved two of these delightful creatures vomiting over a lovely dinner of shrimp and oysters after doing shots with his band mates. The thing I love the most about this show is not the girls and most certainly not Mr Hot Pants Michaels. It is that it reminds me how much I love being a boring, suburban housewife and mother of three. And how far I've come since those ridiculously silly days of being lovestruck by a celebrity.
But have you seen Scott Baio is 45 and Single? Ooh La La.