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Before you lock my love awayyyyy--

--along with my dignity - and what’s left of my sanity - please, let me testify as I’ve come to a few realizations. First, After watching last night’s episode of “I Love New York” I haven’t been as embarrassed by a group of black men since "State Property 2". Secondly, I would not fuck ashy-ass New York with Pootie’s dick dipped in sherm. Thirdly, I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t tell Heat was a junkie. Finally, I lost a Final Four pick.

Let’s throw his undercover-ass a party. Yeah. A surprise party for my new best friend.

As Chamo YMCA's the remaining manwhores into their challenge of carpentry and architecture, I can’t help but notice that every member of the collective either looks like 2Pac, a Village Person, an extra from “Blood In, Blood Out,” or some combination of the three. VH1 finally flexes its muscle and shows that these dudes weren’t going to sit around for 11 episodes holding their dicks and smiling. Nay! They’re going to make doghouses for Majesty, Princess Tiffany’s only friend.

While the Boston vs.Chance saga rages on (with an argument about a champagne room in their doghouse), 12 Pack proceeds to display the mighty goon hand over his prag, Heat, who apparently can handle wood with the best of them.

Impressed with the chain gang sweating all over Flavor Flav’s lawn, this wophead New York fantasizes about using a damn power saw in bed. Shit, whether that’s her natural coronation of ash or some cheap-ass moolie-colored pantyhose she's rocking with the G.I. Joe drawers, this broad already looks like somebody done gave her the once-over with a power sander. Lookin like Roadblock, girl!

Since 12 Pack and his 2 flunkies Bootz and Buck… umm… Heat and Real won the dollhouse challenge with some Project Runway-worthy shit, I got a chance to examine Heat in his confessional. I’m sorry I’ve egregiously overlooked the fact that this man is a raging cocaine monster. It’s not like Mr. “Heat is ON! *sniffle*” is just showing this now. Nigga look like Michael J. Fox in a butterfly collar. That tingle is called Simplex 5, Butterlips. That’s that instant herp!

And oh, yeah. Heatrock ain’t talkin bout no damn woman when he says “Yaya” has to eat first. That’s the little pet name for his yayo.

He bows to the table mirror and thanks Yaya every day for carrying him this far.

Yaya also drove this broken man to aid and abet Rick James in a criminal plot to stalk and kidnap Tiff Pollard. Al Cowlings over here held the ladder while calm, quiet Captain Cockblock crept around the balcony like Agent Lee in “Enter the Dragon.” I love how the nigga had time to eat and drink champagne while on special ops recon.

After the triple dong date ends, Psycho Real is the only one with sense enough to take his ass upstairs. Heat and 12 Pack decide to spoon, sip and smoke a wet Dutch. Onix was about ready to jump in on that lovely scenario. He could smell Heat in heat. O-Dog wanted to join Heat and 12 Pack for a drunken late night game of “gookie cornbread” …and throw the match.

“We’re just drinkin buddies, Alma.”

Boston, don’t let Darth Vader fade you. She is pressing the issue. We know you’ll be okay if you and New York have a little Jeter baby. I'd be more wary of that 25% chance of ManBearPig though. Them genes is dominant than a mawfucka too.

That Cicely Tyson spectacle in the church house, Sister Patterson… God don’t like that, boo boo. I’m with you, Onix. Testify, brother! You ain’t supposed to play like that in a church… filled with cameras… and fake ass bourgie niggas.

With that said, Tango, you continue to disappoint me. You disloyal, bitchmade, fool-ass motherfucker. I thought you’d take a stand lined up against these soft-ass niggas. First you let Whiteboy punk you, then you cry like a little bitch with a splinter in your pinky. I didn’t tally that initial count of snitchin against you because Pootie was crazy, but now I see this is just how you operate. We once had Red Oyster, now your ass is Blue Oyster. I wonder what poor, unsuspecting nigga is gonna catch a Captain Harris next week.

Yep. Tango & Cash. Rico Suave and this dude playin the 2007 C.H.I.P.S. on niggas. We gonna see how they get dealt with in the coming weeks.

We knew Onix was gone from the moment he opened his scrotophile lips to “disrespect [New York’s] mama’s fate.” (Note: Not faith but fate.) Heat goes home to Mama and Yaya. Mr. Boston lives!

I was gonna do up some T-Shirts, but that’s a little extreme. Instead, I’ve decided I’m gonna have a Mr. Boston at the bar every weekend until dude is eliminated.

Ummm… No Chamo.

talkinvideos@sohh.com
Posted by Ron Mexico at January 30, 2007 8:00 AM

Categories: TV [t], reality [t], new york [t], vh1 [t]

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