...if you can call some things romance.
When I was writing TV reviews for SUITE magazine, I included in one of my columns my opinions of the first Flavor of Love series. Typical elimination reality fare, with Flavor Flav as the object of affection and 20 screaming chickies tearing out each other's hair to get a close-up of his grill. The show is deplorable, exploits women, and sets the feminist movement back to the Stone Age...so why can't I stop watching it? Why have I become so obsessed with a show about a D-list celebrity whose societal relevance faded in the mid-80s? Why is it that I can name the last seven finalists from season one (Hoopz, Goldie, Pumkin, New York, Hottie, Smiley, Sweetie) but I can't name any Supreme Court judges? Am I that entranced by the reflection of Flav's grill that I can't think straight?
Well, we're close to the end of the show now, and it's down to New York and Deelishious. My money's on New York, but I have a niggling feeling she will be shot down again. I didn't care much for her in the first show, but in retrospect she was probably the better choice over Hoopz. My guess is that if VH1 wants to perpetuate this bling-encrusted train wreck they'll encourage Flav in his decisions, have a season three, and maybe give New York her own show. Her ego can barely fit the mansion as is, and personally I think a show about her and her mother might make for good guilty indulgence TV. They'll have to drink lots of Republic of Tea products to keep their voices.
Yes, I do have a point coming here. Bear with me.
Somehow the subject of Flav came up in conversation, and we pondered the difficult question: what nickname would Flav give us if we were on that show? What moniker could we take to agencies and nightclubs, and maybe Match Game, for more work? What would we have etched into our tombstones? Me, I would go with Sicily. I'm of Sicilian descent, I have the look, and I'm good with knives. No-brainer.
What about you? What's your flavorite nickname?