My New Secret Shame

I have a confession to make. I love VH1 shows. Not all of them (go away Hogans, please), but I definitely enjoyed the mindless fun of “Flavor of Love,” “I Love New York” and “Rock of Love.” Granted, I missed the third season of FOL and the second season of ILNY, but when I saw the previews for “I Love Money,” I knew this was not to be missed.

The show is basically a Real World/Road Rules Challenge-type deal starring former contestants of the aforementioned shows, competing in challenges for a grand prize of $250,000. The cast includes some of my favorites from these shows,  such as stripper-with-a-heart-of-gold-who’ll-still-beat-your-triflin’-ass, Heather of “Rock of Love”:

Everyone’s favorite, mildly retarded, “I Love New York” contestant, Mr. Boston:

And the girl who dared to spit in New York’s face, Pumkin of “Flavor of Love”:

The first two episodes have already given us plenty of drama, with the promise of even more to come. In a house full of horny, money-grubbing fame-whores, you know some ridiculous stuff is bound to happen. Here’s a little taste:

“I Love Money” airs Sundays at 9 p.m. EST.


2 responses to “My New Secret Shame

  1. This show looks really awful and hateful. However, last night I was watching Bridezillas. I’ve watched it a few times, and it often makes me queasy. This time, I changed the channel after they teased a bride shoving cake in her dad’s face at the rehearsal dinner because he was paying for something and put his foot down about something and she was shrieking, “I don’t care! It’s my wedding!”

    How these women got someone to marry them, I do not know. Earlier, a bride was purposely trying to put her bridesmaids in the ugliest dresses possible so as not to detract from her loveliness. Sometimes I wonder if the producers are coaxing these chicks into bitchiness. I’m afraid they’re not.

  2. dorothyzbornak

    This show is more ridiculous than anything. But I cannot watch Bridezillas. I’ve watched a few episodes in the past and I just have no patience for whiny, spoiled brats. It’s like “My Super Sweet Sixteen,” but a little older.

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