Drag queens and Twitter wars and Carrot Top, oh my!

By Dalton Ross
January 16, 2017 at 10:00 PM EST
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Look, I’m not exactly what you would call a “manly man.” I went to a college named after a woman and comprised of 70% females. The next punch I throw will be my first. The most I’ve ever bench-pressed is … well, nothing, because I have never bench-pressed anything in my entire life. The one time I attempted to ride a motorcycle I drove it into a brick wall. (True story.) So, if anyone should be concerned about being seen as less than masculine, it would be yours truly.

But here’s the thing. If my wife asked me to sit behind her on a motorcycle for a fake advertising campaign, I WOULD FREAKING SIT BEHIND HER ON A MOTORCYCLE! You know why? Because she’s my wife. And, to reiterate, it’s a fake advertising campaign. Which is a long way of saying I am not David Charvet. I think that’s plainly clear, seeing as how I did not star on Baywatch and Melrose Place. Nor did I have designs on becoming a French pop star. Speaking of which, what is up with the cast of Baywatch and their endless attempts to conquer the European music charts? In between Hasselhoff’s Germany invasion and Charvet’s French takeover, were the lifeguards of Los Angeles County attempting to create a new Axis of Unlistenable Soft Rock Jams?

Frankly, there’s a lot I don’t understand about David Charvet, but my general confusion kind of boils down to this: If your wife is the insanely attractive and seemingly super-nice Brooke Burke, and insanely attractive and seemingly super-nice Brooke Burke asks you for a favor to help her raise money for charity, why are you not doing it? Charvet! What are you doing? It’s not like she asked you to parade down Santa Monica Boulevard naked while carrying a buoy and singing the Baywatch theme song. But guess what? If she did ask you do to that, you do it!

But no, that’s not what she asked. All Brooke requested was her husband sit behind her for a photo on a Kawasaki motorcycle. Charvet refused. Why? “Cause I’m not having Arnold look at me like I’m some sort of wimp.” Wow. Listen, I am the master of lame excuses. Whenever my wife asks me to do anything around the house or questions why I did not do anything around the house, I have some terrible excuse locked and loaded. The last thing I am trying to do here is extol my virtues as a husband. Honestly, I have no idea how or why my wife has stayed with me for going on 18 years. I mean, if your ideal husband is someone who sits on his ass and recaps episodes of The New Celebrity Apprentice in his spare time, then sure, I suppose I am quite the catch. But the next minute my spouse watches this show will be the first, so that can’t be it.

Anyway, I’m not trying to lecture or anything, but Charvet, to you I say this: GET ON THE DAMN BIKE!!! You’re worried Arnold will think you are “some sort of wimp”? Just because you are not the one driving the motorcycle? What year is this? Again, I am far from an expert on masculinity, but I don’t think in the year 2017 that any half-intelligent human being gives a flying fork where you are positioned on the bike, dude. Even Schwarzenegger himself told Brooke later in the boardroom: “I have no qualms about it to look feminine sitting on the back of a motorcycle of a woman.”

Granted, the English is a little choppy on that one, but if there was any doubt what he was saying, Arnold followed it up with: “I would sit on the back of your bike. Of course I would.” And so would anybody! Again, dude, your wife! And for charity! Oh, and as for the argument Brooke would never be driving the motorcycle in real life, need I remind you this was a photo for a phony ad campaign on a phony reality show. In other words, WHO CARES?! Let me answer that for you. I’ll tell you who cares: nobody. Nobody cares. Jon Lovitz posed as a priest in one of the men’s ads, and I have some breaking news for you: Jon Lovitz is not a priest. (I will say it was a bit cute the way David Charvet thought Arnold even would know who he was. I’m not convinced Arnold even knows who some of the actual contestants are at this point.)

By the way, before we get entirely off this Charvet thing, did you know he starred on his own reality show? Back in 2009, he appeared on some ABC thing called Superstars that paired celebrities and athletes in competitions. His partner? None other than current Celebrity Apprentice contestant Lisa Leslie. I don’t know what to make of that, other than the fact all the same people appear on all the same reality shows. (For example, in a statistic exactly nobody will find surprising, Stephen Baldwin appeared on two seasons of both Celebrity Mole and Celebrity Apprentice.) You would think the combination of his current wife and former reality-show partner might be enough to get Charvet on the back of the bike. But you would be wrong.

Okay, enough marriage counseling from me. Let’s dip into the other acts of insanity and inanity from this week’s Celebrity Apprentice.

NEXT: Carson learns how to tuck his testicles

Nudes on Bikes
The first task, in case you had not already gathered, was for each team to create a photo campaign for the Kawasaki Vulcan S, which sounds more like a Star Trek character than a motorcycle to me, but what do I know? Anyway, the task led to this exchange on the men’s team:

Carson: “Do we like the idea of a drag queen?”
Boy George: “I do.”
Carson: “I do, too.”

Hey, who doesn’t? But putting a drag queen named Alaska Thunderf-ck on a bike wasn’t the only randy idea Project Manager Carson had up his sleeve. He also wanted to go nude! Although, technically, if you are nude, I suppose you have no sleeves in which to hide things, but just work with me here. Then again, he could have hidden something in the saggy tighty-whities Boy George made him discard to get fully au naturel. “Push your bits under like a drag queen,” Boy George instructed when Carson complained of being uncomfortable.

Speaking of being uncomfortable, Jon Lovitz wondered aloud whether this particular ad campaign would be effective and if Governor Schwarzenegger would want to sit where Carson’s sweaty junk had been. Would Schwarzenegger be comfortable? Forget about him. How would David Charvet feel about this?!? That’s what I want to know!

Chael was also worried about the drag queen shot, but Boy George argued with: “I think we live in an inclusive world now.” (He repeated this later in the boardroom, noting that “Carson’s idea was to do something inclusive. We now live in an inclusive society where no one is left out.” Hell yeah, BG! You tell ‘em! Now let’s just hope those words — which were spoken last year well before the election — still hold true.)

The men’s shots were pretty great, and their tagline of “A bike for every body” perfectly fit the Kawasaki theme of appealing to all demographics, shapes, and sizes. Plus, Carson nailed the presentation. Which means …

Look Who Lost Again
Let’s be honest: The women were a pretty terrible team, in both performance and personalities. Not a lot of huge characters or huge ideas coming out of that squad. So, we kind of knew Prima would lose this first task and that Kyle would be fired before the boardroom even began. But that does not mean there was no reason to watch it. For one thing, the boardroom began with Arnold asking Carson about going naked, which and led to this exchange:

Carson: “Did you see that?”
Arnold: “Yes, I saw that.”
Carson: “Well, then you brought your glasses.”
Arnold: “I didn’t have to.”
Carson: “Thank you very much.”

After Arnold complimented the size of Carson’s penis, he continued by chiding the Project Manager for not selecting that image as one of their four main photos. “Because, as you know, the camera adds 10 pounds in certain places.” Wait, so is he now saying Carson actually has a small penis that has been enhanced by the camera? And why are we even still talking about Carson Kressley’s penis, especially when it is tucked under his butt per Boy George’s instructions? Wow, there’s a sentence I never thought I’d type.

But that wasn’t even the best part. The best part was the Governator once again comparing Celebrity Apprentice tasks to bodybuilding. Last time it was the story about parading around in a village in a tiny speedo to presumably frighten young children into years of intense psychological therapy. This time it was about going that extra mile for a win. At least I think it was. Here, you see if you can figure out what he’s talking about:

“It’s like me going to the world championships in bodybuilding. When you go to Mr. Olympia, it’s understood that everyone has huge deltoids and big biceps and triceps and abdominals … but who has maybe small calves? Who has one weak point? And you analyze it and you look at the man and you pose and pose, and you finally find someone that has a weak point and that’s the guy who loses and the other guy wins.”

Holy shiznit! I take it all back! David Charvet was right! Arnold Schwarzenegger probably was checking out his calves! And he probably would judge him for being on the back of the bike! After all, he’s judging people for their deltoids, and biceps, and triceps, and abdominals — which means if Arnold ever laid eyes on me, he would likely just burst into hysterics.

Anyway, Kyle was fired. One Housewife down, one to go.

The Sweet Stuff
Since the ladies were getting proverbially murdered in the competition, Arnold and the producers switched up the teams, moving Carson, Vince, and Chael over to Prima, and Booke and Laila over to Arete. I would list the new teams in full, but I know you don’t really care and neither do I. The second task was to create and sell their own See’s Candies chocolate, with the team that made the most money winning. Finally, a good ol’ fashioned fundraising challenge! About time! Vince and Ricky became Project Managers because they bragged about how much money they could bring in. One of them delivered on that promise, the other did not.

The twist is that each team had to send someone to Omaha to bring their candy to Warren Buffet for an in-person taste test, and whichever one he liked more got an extra $25,000. “I’m known as the Candy Man,” Buffett exclaimed as he walked in, nonchalantly dissing and dismissing the legacy of the great Sammy Davis Jr.

NEXT: Jon Lovitz–Boy George Twitter war!

Ricky sent Jon Lovitz to present the Arete candy, because “We would get more work done if Jon is not in the room.” One can only hope this immediately leads to a Ricky Williams-Jon Lovitz Twitter war to follow up on last week’s amazing Boy George-Jon Lovitz social media smackdown. A sampling for your perusal …

I think you catch the drift by now. That stuff is gold. The problem is, it needs to be on the actual show! Which is why it was such a mistake to fire Lovitz later. Sure, the guy only raised $500, a laughable amount that shocked even Schwarzenegger. “You are one of the top comedy actors in the country,” the host said in what might be a sliiiight exaggeration. “You cannot go and make calls and get within $500? Are you kidding me?”

That is a pathetic amount. I’m a full-on nobody and could call up my grandfather and get him to donate $500 … and my grandfather has been dead for 20 years! There are no two ways about it, that was a super-lame fundraising effort on Jon’s behalf and he has done nothing else to prove himself a valuable contributor on this show. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. Because whether it is Lovitz sulking or storming out of rooms, at least he gave us some conflict. Watching Matt last week and Ricky this week having to manage Lovitz’s pouting diva meltdowns was worth the price of admission. And his whole bit of running away from da choppa at the end was pretty funny. You know what that was? ACTING!!! (It’s an old SNL bit. Look it up.)

The producers and Arnold messed up here and should have fired Ricky instead. Sure, Ricky brought in 23,700 percent more money than Jon on this task, but so what? Unless they are hoping Ricky’s cannabis buddies show up and get Matt Iseman so stoned that the next time the American Ninja Warrior host and Schwarzenegger fanatic enters the boardroom he acts out Jingle All the Way in its entirely (including all the Sinbad parts!), then they have to know Lovitz adds more unintentional entertainment value than the former Heisman Trophy winner. In that sense, Lovitz’s firing was a more surprising decision than one would think. In other words, what I am saying is the show completely made sense for once. Which makes no sense. If you’ve watched Celebrity Apprentice for a long time, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, well, congratulations for having more of a life than I do.

My Favorite Celebrity Donor Ever!
You thought I had forgotten about the fact that strippers from some place called Déjà Vu Showgirls showed up with $10,000 (roughly half a night’s worth of tips) to support one of their most loyal customers in Vince Neil? I hadn’t. Not by a long shot. Nor did I forget about the Hooters girls who also showed up with 10K for their favorite heavy-metal frontman. Although, I would be lying if I said I did not half expect Vince to give them the entire 20K back if both sides agreed to Jell-O wrestle in a Déjà Vu vs. Hooters winner-take-all battle royale.

But believe it or not, it was neither the Déjà Vu Showgirls nor the Hooters waitresses I kept rewinding to steal another look at. No, it was Carrot Top. Carrot Top, ladies and gentlemen! America’s leading prop comic for more than 20 years and counting! What’s in that wacky trunk sitting on the stage? You never know when Carrot Top is around, but I’d venture to guess the trunk contains hijinks, tomfoolery, shenanigans, clownery, and possibly even a dollop of monkey business. So nice to see Carrot Top again! And, frankly, I’m kinda shocked he has never been a Celebrity Apprentice contestant himself. Perhaps they could sign him up for a season with Kato Kealin, Shadoe Stevens, and Yahoo Serious. (They really should cede full casting power over to me at this point.)

And perhaps I should be signing off now after reliving all the triumph and tragedy of another week of Celebrity Apprentice. Besides, I have to go consult Weedmaps to see where my man Ricky Williams is hanging out. Until next week: Cluck, cluck … splash!

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