--what are we gonna dooooooooo....?

Season 2 of Flavor of Love has finally come to a close. We anxiously await the Reunion Special/Ho Bowl in a week or two and we can finally put all of this shit behind us once and for all, I hope. While the championship bout of Delishis vs. CB4 didn’t provide the same amount of sparks as last year’s throwdown with latter bird and Hoopz, we still got a finale that touches every part of the viewer…

including the gag reflex.

New York’s mama, "Miss Michelle" AKA ManBearPig made a last ditch effort to rescue her spawn from the clutches of Broke Loki. I do understand that. It’s paternal instinct to NOT wanna see your child get used up for television like a soiled tampon. But daaaamn, Miss Michelle… If you were any good at this thing called parenting, you’d know the name of the game. Your bitch chose Flav. You would also know that you look just got beat out for a role on "The Jeffersons."

I was thoroughly amazed that Flavor Flav could get away with calling someone a test tube baby when the nigga looks like he was biogenetically engineered to keep car engine parts from grinding together.

After it’s safe to leave the mansion (as ManBearPig has crawled back to its cave in Syracuse), Flavor packs up his favorite toothbrush/shank/makeshift pipe and tells his Disney Bobblehead bitch and Lela Rochon: Da Monstarr Version get ready to fly to Belize with dude. Oh, yes. Gotta know Daddy is gonna have a time on his hands with his 2 top round bitches on the brink of Bloodsport.

I don’t know about Snakes, but there was definitely Horse on the Got Damn Plane!

So, New York refered to the nine Mexicans that went crazy when they got off the plane as “complete pandemonium?” Let me help this sick, delusional bitch out. They was goin crazy because they though if they beat the shit out of you and Flavor with a stick some candy and shit would come out. Don’t flatter yourself, poo-putt.

I like the wardrobe selection in Belize. Delishis had on more mesh than Shabba. Her netting attire for damn sure was NOT dolphin-safe. I forgot Devonte had her some puppies! I guess I forgot about them skretchin marks from earlier in the season too.

Sad Moment of Realization: "Flavor of Love 2" IS actually sponsored by Popeye’s! Wow. I couldn’t even write no shit like that. Well… yes, I could.

New York don’t know nothing about nothing but being ready for the show. She ain’t prepared to dance, crush grapes, shower, swim, run, or perform any normal human activity that doesn’t involve a fucking curling iron. I love how the episode’s first set of tears come when the Wicked Bitch of the West gets wet. I too would lament the fear of drowning… the horse I’m wearing.

New York needed only to show Flavor that she was more than backseat backshots, but that she’s on-the-bed backshots as well. Unfortunately, she showed her that she was no different from Robert Guillaume in drag… AKA her moms. Unfortunately, it took cloudy ass Flavor 2 whole seasons to see that.

Simpin ain't easy.

In a touching and tearful display, Flavor kicked Tiffy to the curb once again and was met with the response that is far better to receive immediately as you break a foot off in a broad ass than when you’re already invested some real time and sperm into her. Let’s hope we don’t see Delishis in the new Lil Keke video getting that liquid bling on her back.

I guess out of the possibilities of this season Flavor and Delishis makes the most sense. Nigga got a broad and a bodyguard in one. Finally thinking on your toes, Drayton! Now go beat on them cheeks until some p-puh-pigeon milk come out.

Oh, don’t cry for me just yet, Argentina. We still have the Pro Bowl/Royal Rumble coming up very very soon. I’ll leave you with my parting thoughts then. In the meantime, I’m taking bets for the over/under on when Delishis wakes the fuck up and finds her a man that she can’t grind up and inhale if ever she decided to get on top during sex. Flavor just need to keep hittin it from the back and grabbin onto them keloids like a climbing wall.

Might as well do something with them shits, right? Them ain’t bullet wounds. The tats ain’t gonna do it.

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