Clean My Vomit, Bitch

by
Mike Celebrity Rehab

You lookin' at me? Well, I'm the only one here.

God, don’t you just love a cliffhanger? Even one you can see coming about 17 miles away?

So it turns out that the bassist from Alice in Chains has a name after all and that name is Mike. I figured that out about halfway through last night’s riveting episode of Celebrity Rehab because everyone on the show had said it about three dozen times, most frequently to the man as he stalked the faciity in a leather jacket and red bandana, earphones on, ignoring all human communication.

“Mike. Mike. Can we talk? Mike. What’s wrong, Mike.”

Yes, despite the drama surrounding Mindy McCready’s much hyped and heralded seizure (I think I saw less adds for The Book of Eli than I did promo’s showing this woman sliding off her bed spasmodically twitiching like Don Knotts), this episode belongs to Mike. Even the teasing intrigue surrounding the impending arrival of Tom Sizemore who, at the end of the show, has escaped into the dirty suburbs of Hollywood where he’s skulking about somewhere like a tweaked out Gollum, huddled with a meth pipe, smoking himself into a guy with the brain capacity of a jellyfish, couldn’t put a damper on Mike’s moment to shine here.

I told you right from the start that this guy had serious issues. He was detoxing after about 10 minutes at the facility, pacing the premises like a panther in a zoo. Listen, if a half an hour without putting drugs in your body has you already slipping in a vast abyss of physical and mental distress, chances are you’re in for a rough detox, son. This guy has been putting chemicals into his body in the kind of quantities that would frighten Keith Richards to death; for so many years he’s like a walking hazardous waste disposal dump. The man wouldn’t know reality if it shot him with a 50,000 volt taser.

So at a certain point in the show, after he’s described how he doesn’t want to live without drugs and everything is bullshit, he becomes angrily psychotic with one of the thankless staff members, Shelley, The Albino Waif. She tries to wake him up for some mandatory 12-step meetings and he gets belligerent, asking her to kick him out, calling her a f*****g c**t and then smashing a bedside lamp.

Of course, this is the same woman who has previously had the unenvious task of cleaning up a virtual landslide of the man’s vomit as, sick as hell from detox and a belly loaded with fresh corn on the cob, he wakes up one night and hurls repeatedly onto the floor beside his bed. Gets up the next day and says, “I ain’t cleanin’ it up.”

But his classiness doesn’t end there.

Whilst the stalwart Shelley files an “incident report” about the verbal abuse and destruction of property in an attempt to get him (appropriately so) removed from the program, Mike decides to dress up like an extra from The Warriors and stalk the premises like a Borg Drone, not responding to questions, staring psychotically at camera men and even squatting atop a table at one point to level his half-lidded gaze of dementia at his now rapt audience.

Y'know, when you've freaked out McKenzie Philips, that's something.

Buckets of fun, I tell you.

Now everyone is suggesting that this is an individual so fucked up and set on edge by his enviroment, and detoxing in such a severe way, that he may need an entirely more intensive level of care than they can provide. They consider a psychiatric lockdown and a police escort to get such but, surprisingly, when they finally get him talking and he admits that part of the problem is the stress of being filmed throughout this horrifying process, the decide to keep him on site and hope he can work through things.

Yeah, that’s a good idea. Here’s a man so out of his mind from substance withdrawal he looks like he’s several steps beyond a serial killer mindset, he’s driven to a near psychotic break by being constantly on camera throughout the most difficult moments of his entire life and your decision in terms of the man’s care at this critical life or death juncture?

Keep him on your TV show.

As we know, the episode ends with brief segments entitled Hunting For Sizemore and McCready Goes Spare, leaving us hanging with the a dramatic “To be continued…” as Mindy twitches about on the floor of her bedroom and McKenzie Philips, tower of strength and sanity, starts screaming for a nurse.

After she’s stopped cackling at the woman, that is.

Other notes: Dennis Rodman is still in denial but he gets to clean some dishes. The Real World guy has blown so much coke he can’t even smell the steaming pile of vomit on the floor of his bunk room four feet away from him. Lisa D’Amato is just plain sad, unfortunately. She tells her story and those eyes well up and you can fucking feel your heart start to break.

More hilarious hijinks next week.

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5 Responses to “Clean My Vomit, Bitch”

  1. Horatio VonDarkfaulker Says:

    Man, I don’t know what to say.

    What gets into these rear-robbing; reprobate; psycho-sucking; spunky-legged, mother-humping Rock Stars anyway?

    I mean really now!

    It’s been literally hundreds of days since I smashed a table lamp because I didn’t get my shit on time. On camera. I’m shocked to see this sordid matter inflicted on the general populace.

    The Thing, as some might say and I shall therefore say again for no particular reason: The Thing about the art and the artist is this: It’s almost always better to encounter one, but not the other. Sort of like: I dig Van Ghogh, but I don’t really want to hang out with some feral fucking nutcase that cuts pieces of himself off to ship to his lady-love after a hard night of absinth. Basard’s likely crazy; that’s my thought (though I always fancied Van Gogh’s Ear would make an excellent name for a band…)

    In an effort to draw ever further toward the core truths germane to more succinctly elucidating the Almighty Truths laid bare herein within this very blog, I would, and shall, say this:

    Man in a Box, Down in a Hole and Rooster will forever rock our fucking twisted worlds, but you’ll never catch us hanging out with these ALICE IN CHAINS fuckers from this moment on.

    Unless they’re buying.

    ~This is Horatio signing out

  2. Cullen Says:

    The problem is that he’s working with the wrong people. It’s a big internet out there. There are people who get off on cleaning up vomit and shit like that (and shit).

    Can’t believe he’s not been able to find the right passive masochist for him.

  3. Horatio VonDarkfaulker Says:

    Damned hard to find good help these days

  4. Ken Socrates Says:

    Tell me about it. The girl I had giving me a bikini wax the other day was sloppy as hell. Let’s just say sitting cross-legged right now is not an option for me.

  5. Microphone : Says:

    today we have table lamps that are using Light Emitting Diodes which is of course great coz they consume less power ~

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