The Flavor of EWWWWW!!!!!

On the most recent episode of the train wreck that is The Flavor Of Love, Pumkin was eliminated from the competition. Sadly, when she left, her behavior screamed WHITE TRASH as she emphasized her dislike for New York by spitting on her!
Folks, spitting is just plain gross! That is retaliation reserved for rapists and murderers in my opinion. There are plenty of other ways to let your dislike for a person be known that don't involve spitting.
I work in health care and encounter all sorts of bodily fluids and emissions. The one that gets me gagging the most is, surprisingly, not poop. It's spit. It plain makes me ill when someone is hacking up a bunch of nasty phlegm. I sure hope you weren't eating when you were reading this!
In my world of Cheesy Unreality, there are no winners in the Cheese of Desire contest. All that showed up were ghosts, werewolves, and a bunch of Death Metal types. So while I was able to find all the members I needed to complete my horribly bad band, Death Cheese, I still have zero romantic prospects!
Ah well. I have much hate in my heart for the Colorado state government right now, so I will pen some angry and diabolical songs about them and let Death Cheese work their musical black magic while I stick pins in a voodoo doll. Yes, it's a tax thing. I'm sure most of you will understand!
Sad days are these when werewolves and people who look like rejects from the WWF have more social decorum than a normal-looking woman wearing an evening gown!
Pumkin, ya oughta be ashamed of yourself! Yech!
And while Flavor Flav probably ought to be ashamed of himself, and I would normally be outraged and disgusted at a man who seems to see women as nothing but sex objects, I don't see him as having ill intent. He's just dysfunctional as hell. And willing to let everyone see it.
And I'm watching this. Argh! I'm the one who oughta be ashamed! Somebody slap me with a brick of limburger!
But don't spit on me. Or believe me, you will leave with many fewer body parts than you arrived with! And to add insult to injury, I will have the members of Death Cheese bury you in Lutefisk!

The Cheesemeister
Spitless on Saturn