For the past few days Max and I have been crazy for more news about Bret Michaels. Since Rock of Love, and now Celebrity Apprentice, I've been fairly enamored of Mr. Diabeetus, and now that he's had a subarachnoid aneurysm/hemorrhage, I am just sitting around wondering how my favorite B-list Celebrity Apprentice contender is going to make it through.
I'm a bit nervous. Perhaps he should lay off the bandanas for a while.
All joking aside, well at least sort of, this is a super scary thing. I wonder, and really Maxie Jean raised this, if The Donald is going to make an announcement prior to the start of this week's episode of The Apprentice? What can he say? Does he feel guilt because he went on a tirade about bandanas, how much he likes them, and if he were a rock'n'rolla he would wear one too? Imagine Donald's miraculous coif covered up by a red, pink or green bandana? It would be pretty amazing. And puffy.
Forget Cyndi Lauper and her roundabout storytelling, Curtis' uselessness, or the fact that Goldberg finally got fired after weeks of doing nothing. Please also forget the fact that I had an internal battle over who covered, Smokin' in the Boys Room (Motley Crue vs. Poison -- it was Motley Crue) on the Red Line, that I woke up with neon green relish in my hair and mustard in my fingernails (rough night, closed with Hot Dogs), and that I really can't wait for 8:00 PM CDT to come.
Donald's celebrity star player (post shoot, of course) is sitting in ICU waiting for some doctors to give him a prognosis better than Livin' for the Minute.
Keep your hands clasped in prayer and your insulin needles within reach. We're holding a Bret Michaels vigil.
Shelly D.
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Rootin' for ya Bret!
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