With that, we're back in Los Angeles as Sam and Brandi face off in the finals. They have to "get to Bret" by hurdling some velvet ropes and "get through security" by pushing back one of those football things with Big John's face taped on it. Poor Sam is in her sludge-soaked whore clothes. For a good number of the rest of the girls, this is everyday life, but I imagine it puts Sam at a bit of a disadvantage. As a muzak version of "Chariots of Fire" plays, the girls hurdle and push, and Brandi is the winner of the date with Bret. Sam has to give her props. And really, Sam's date with Bret would just be filled with more talk about feelings and shit, and who needs that? Not Bret, that's for sure. He is so psyched that Brandi won that he yells out, "Wild Thing! Wassagoinon!?!" He's got to find a way to bring some lovin' there today. Something tells me that with Brandi M. his task won't be too difficult, and this is even before I know about her nickname.
Back at home, Lacey says she was cute earlier in the day, before she rolled around in garbage. Just another in an endless path of lies and deceit and desperation. She and Heather go to their top-secret planning space in a room behind a curtain -- make that a SOUNDPROOF curtain, I'm sure -- and decide that their next task is to get Sam booted. Since Sam is so sensitive and jealous, they figure that they'll just tell her that Brandi sucked Bret's rose and fondled his thorns on their date. Which, actually, will probably be the truth. It's interesting how these two come to honestly in such a roundabout way. Bret tells the girls that he's going to go to the studio for a while and come back with some good music and get the birthday party started. While he's gone, the girls decorate. Brandi inhales the helium out of a balloon and says she just might suck Bret's dick tonight. If you ever wondered what Munchkin porn sounds like, you couldn't get much closer than that. The Lollipop Guild stars in: Ding Dong The Witch Is Spread. Magdalena inhales from the balloon and still sounds like Shaquille O'Neal.
And then, it's party time! Bret blows out the candles on two sorry looking cakes. There are, like, 120 candles, which is probably how old everyone thinks Bret is. What is Bret's birthday wish, you may ask? "To have the most awesome, kick-ass time." It's like he breathes poetry. Bret hooks up his boom box to a PA, and, in true Bret Michaels fashion, plays, "Nothin' But a Good Time." As the girls get down and the swinging on the pole starts, Magdalena takes a break outside. She tells us that she's not the kind of person to hang on a guy's neck to get his attention. Hopefully not, since the guy would be on the ground in about half a second. She's built like a fucking anchor. The party is at such a level that even the non-whores are on the pole. Hey Jes and Mia! And then, out of nowhere, it happens. SAM IS ON THE POLE. She's wearing capri length black denim, but still. She shakes it like that nanny who ended up going to trial. As Bret says, her creature of sexual desire finally exploded. That sounds...unhygienic. He is so into it that I think he might have to tie his nuts into a slip knot. Unskinny bop, indeed.