Tequila, light of my life, fire of my loins.
My sin, my soul. Te-qui-la: the tip of the tongue
taking a trip of three steps down the palate
to tap, at three, on the teeth. Te. Qui. La.
– Matt and Jonathan, the VH1 Blog
Would you believe, Tila, that we wrote this poem for you? It should be as clear as the report of a rifle that we adore you, that we would never forsake you, that you belong with us. It should also be clear that your suitors can’t even gather the courage to eat a perfectly cooked piece of bull flesh in your honor. We’d expect more, at least from the lesbians. You asked the remaining ninnies in the house to “man up” while each eating a bull’s penis and testicles. Perhaps it was the anatomical arrangement of the flesh, pictured below, that made them so queasy.
Surely, some of the men were eager to close their pretty lips around such privy parts. We remember Bobby, who won this genitals-eating competition, orally copulating a bottle in a recent episode. As for the rest, they would have fared better had they practiced mind over matter. Let’s look at how your suitors performed.
Like this (Brandi):
And this (Amanda):
And this (Steven):
And this (Venessa):
And, finally, this (Venessa, again):
At least Dani managed to come up with a clever excuse for being a wimp: “This is absolutely the first time I’ve had dick in my mouth and it’s the last time I want to choke on it.”
As for Bobby, his award was a bubble bath with you. This annoyed us, Tila. It made us gnash our teeth and pull our hair. We were particularly vexed when Bobby declared his love. “I love you,” he whispered into your ear. Was Bobby thinking with his knobby? How could he have decided that you were the love of his life after two minutes in the tub?
We aren’t saying that you didn’t look amazing in your bikini, with your eyes shining magnetically and your dimples in full display. But Bobby would have seemed less pathetic had he toned it down. What’s wrong with “I think I’m falling for you” or “I can’t stop thinking about you?” It was too much, too soon. He’s clumsy, Tila. He’s foolish. And we found it charitable of you, if not mean and misleading, to give him a brief thrill in the bath.
We doubt that Bobby has the sperm count required to impregnate a voluptuous, fertile Britney Spears — even in her prime. Yet this moment in the bath was as close “a shot” as his little men will ever get to creating a baby Tequila. We are sure of it.
Then there’s steven. We don’t know the strength of his sperm. But we believe that the FBI would label him a date-raper if he were ever to be profiled. Tila, he attacked you in plain sight, with everyone watching. What would have happened if the cameras hadn’t been rolling? Allow us to recount the scene:
As for the girls, they grew testy. And violent. When Steven attempted to smear cake frosting on Brandi, she screamed: “Take the knife away from my face!” Then she slapped him. Then she threw kitchen objects at him. Steven was holding a butter knife, Tila. This dull object is surely less harmful than Brandi’s manipulative ways.
It would have served you well to heed Steven’s advice: “Don’t fight with a dramatic lesbian that’s on her period.” But there was no way for you to know that this maxim should have been applied to Vanessa, not Brandi. Vanessa seemed benignly attractive in her poke-a-dot bikini, but her violent attack on Brandi would have pleased the choreographers of the new Beowulf flick. She was a ball of rage waiting to blow up. And blow up she did upon being eliminated. The screenshots speak for themselves:
Tila, come to VH1. We want you. We can do better. Call us.