Every week The Rock Life follows Los Angeles band Whitestarr as they attempt to make it in the music biz. But who’s following The Rock Life? We are! Here’s our third report:
Thirty Minutes of Rockin’ Reality in Four Sentences: VH1 calls episode three of The Rock Life “Looking For Ms. Potato.” Mainly because its a catchier title than “Help Get Our Lazy, Shirtless, Unshaven, Snot-Rocketing Dancer Laid.” The band embarks on a “big” 28-date national tour (totally glossing over the fact that unsigned bands generally don’t tour in an enormous bus) and since Whitestarr front-hunk Cisco Adler has Mischa Barton waiting for him back home, he’s stuck on the bench. He drinks heavily and lives vicariously through his (mercifully) single dancer, Tony Potato, trying to get him action by any means necessary.
Least Rocking Part: Band assistant Bart Hendrikx feebly moseying through a New York City audience looking for someone — anyone — who would be interested in hooking up with the sweaty, shirtless dorkus malorkus prancing around in the corner with the makeshift keffiyeh. To be fair, the strangely charismatic Potato does run some successful game on a girl in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, but it starts with a kiss and ends with “Youre spilling your drink all over me! Seriously!” Too bad VH1 didnt get The Pickup Artists Mystery to pull some magic from his little Jamiroquai hat!
Most Rocking Part: Drunk and frustrated, Potato and Adler have a screaming match in which Adler calls Potatos job “cushy” and asks him if he wants to get punched in the face. Potato counters with “I cant even pay rent when I go home! Youre going to your [bleep] Mercedes and your [bleep] apartment in Malibu!” Adler later adds, dejectedly, “This is the type of shit bands break up over.” Didnt Led Zeppelin break up because they fired their dancer?
Ass-Crack Count: Only a mere two shots of Adlers sweaty coin slot made it into this episode, compared to the ten cracks in the debut. But seeing Tony Potato lick his fingers alluringly at his potential Penn pal was more shocking than a solid kilometer of rear-end.
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