First it was Frankie the Bull's ginormous gut, flashed repeatedly, along with what looked like Masonic jewelry (we suspect that if he were to lose that gut, the snoring would stop, or at the very least subside. We pity El Bully's poor deaf(ened) wife.)
And now we have to look at Beer Bong's spongy, sunburnt form? It seems to us that Bravo is not being terribly considerate with the delicate sensibilities of its impressionable viewers.
As we sit at 10 o' clock before the cold blue glow of the television set tuned to Bravo, drinking rum-spiked Ovaltine in our Sèvres chocolatières, Beer Bong's brick-red belly, double chin, asymmetrical nipples, and unbalanced whorls of chest hair as he plays "Look! I'm a ghost" are absolutely the last things we want to see. Really, Bravo, it's like, gag us with an absinthe spoon.
(Miss XaXa, being Miss XaXa, wondered where he could have gotten the sunburn, and then was vaguely titillated by the idea that he must have lain out on the beach after the surfer breakfast challenge. We let the matter drop.)
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