Wasn't VH1 supposed to be the G-rated version of MTV? Parents everywhere, I strongly urge you to child-lock your boob-tube. Otherwise, run the risk of Joey Junior asking you to define herpes before kindergarten enrollment. What the hell is with this show? The skank factor is through the roof from the moment the credits start. What floored me was the scene too shocking to be seen. You know, the one where Nikki put a shot glass where one need not be and two groupies were so repulsed they had to leave the premises. If you can turn the sex meter up high enough to scare off groupies you should be banned from species propagation.
Of course, that moment was all but forgotten when Marcia drank herself into a puke frenzy before meeting Bret for the first time. But how does one mask puke flavor when she's about to tongue-tackle a washed up rock star five minutes after introduction? Eat a fun-tube of Pizza Pringles. Can you feel it? Valentine's day is just around the corner.
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