Airstream of Consciousness

Previously on All This Soap And I Still Feel Dirty: Cucumbers were the sexiest thing since green tea, and all that erotic power was channeled into two commercials for Dove Moisturizing Soft-Skin Emollient Sudstastic Goo. In the Net Worth commercial, body wash was used as a sort of finishing wax for sweaty, dirty bodies. In the Magna commercial, cucumbers were used to represent sexual frustration in the culinary professions. It's hard to believe that both of these were not smashing successes, but in fact, they both made Nipples Deutsch want to point those glass-cutters at a new group of people entirely, forgetting all about the suck-ups who tried to ruin his advertising utopia with dirty, undignified sex. And running. In the end, both teams wound up in the Boardroom, because they were just that bad, but only one person was fired. Fortunately, it was Kristen, who had worn out her welcome to the point that the mat had little holes in it where her feet would go. She and Brian undoubtedly shared a warm reunion in the Loser's Lounge, where they are probably still yelling at each other, actually. Now, the collegiate way of life is on the ropes. The tough-as-nails, street-smart Net Worthians are threatening to take the crown away from the high-powered, egghead intellectuals like...Stephanie. Who will be fired and sent off to the highly desirable roommate situation now encompassing Todd, Brian, Danny, Kristen, and possibly Verna? It's fortunate that nothing soothes a wounded ego like being sent off to the Nondescript Townhouse of the Damned.

"BWAAAH!" says the Funky-Butt Horn Section, and we are back in New York yet again. Up in the L-Pal at the Aspiring Corporate Weasel Death Watch, Chris has decided to compound his obvious mental instability with excessive drinking, as his doctor most likely did not prescribe. I don't want to say anything, but there are a lot of medications with which alcohol does not mix. A few of the folks discuss their surprise at how "combative" Audrey was in the Boardroom, which is how I found myself reminded that these people don't watch each other's interview footage. Chris rattles off who is still in the Boardroom, and supposes that whatever may be happening, "it's pretty intense." Way to go out on a limb, there, Carnac. As everyone awaits the return of the living weasels, Stephanie gives an apparently helium-fueled interview in which she says that if anyone from Magna is fired, she hopes it will be Michael, although she sort of runs that entire sentiment together into one word. It's a long season, girly-girl. Inhale. At any rate, Stephanie says that Michael doesn't take initiative and -- wait for it -- he lacks integrity. She doesn't think he has the "drive and the passion." When I write a soap opera about middle managers, by the way, that is totally what I'm calling it -- The Drive And The Passion. It will have corporate reports with naked pictures in them, and it will have phone sex with call waiting.

The survivors return to the L-Pal. Everyone on Magna cheers, because three people on their team who didn't get fired this week are three people on their team who are available to be fired later instead of them. It's very heartwarming, with all the hugging. Because the love is deeply felt, y'all. Deeply felt.

Incidentally, I understand why Stephanie has the big pink purse that matches her big pink scarf, but why does Alex have a big silver briefcase? What's in there? Launch codes? Chapstick? A bagel? I'm really confused.

But anyway, Trump calls over Bren and Audrey to collect from him the teams' product-placed Visa cards, which have $5,000 each on them to set up the business. As you may know, Visa cards are a convenient and affordable substitute for cash! (Confidential to Visa: You know where to send the check.) Trump tells them that their mobile business can be almost anything, although I'd say hookers and drugs are probably off-limits, so it's going to be a matter of giving the public what else it wants. The team that brings in the most revenue will win. (Note: Not the most profit.) And the losers will come back and have somebody fired. Trump wishes them luck and disappears into his limo, truly giving them the mobile business if ever there was such a thing.

A bunch of pigeons waddle around on the ground to the NASDAQ building in Times Square. I think it stands for how pigeons are like people flocking, and the teams have to...okay, never mind. It's a pigeon beauty shot.

Up in the L-Pal, Tana says that she would like to "put [her] hand in for being project manager on this one." Put her hand in? Wait, is it one-potato two-potato? Because that would actually be a good way to decide, and it would make as much sense as anything else they've tried. Tana explains that when Trump gave the assignment, she decided that she'd go for it as PM, because she knew that she needed to step up and show leadership. She also claims to have started many successful businesses, an assertion that always sits funny with me. I mean, I don't know if she seems old enough for multiple businesses in the sense of empire-building, so it's hard for that not to seem a little flaky. Anyway, Tara then suggests that they take a look at the trailers first, because once they do, some of their ideas might be clearly unworkable. The team gets ready to go as Tana interviews that the college people are too stuffy and are "pencil-neck geeks." Nice try, but I just don't think the "dull brainiac" label is going to stick to Magna after Cucumber Dick, the Homosexual Commercial. ["And I'll give anyone who can find any neck at all on Michael ten bucks." -- Sars] On the positive side, at least she left The Box out of it for the moment.

Over at Magna, Bren suggests they talk PM, and says that he's not sure whether being handed the credit card by Trump makes him the PM, but the team basically shrugs and agrees, because they don't care enough to argue about it, certainly. Especially not after he offers to step up to the plate. It's impossible not to trust a guy who uses sports metaphors. And while I'm frothing at the mouth generally, can I say something about stepping up to the plate? In actual baseball, when you "step up to the plate," it's because it's your turn. It's not an act of courage! That guy isn't willingly putting himself in harm's way. He's not ballsy; he's . So can we stop using "step up to the plate" as some kind of synonym for "volunteer"? Because it really, really isn't. But anyway.

Back at the L-Pal, Magna starts throwing around ideas. Bren suggests a mobile internet caf, but Stephanie makes a frowny face. Then he suggests "something that focuses on kids." Like a leash factory or free low-dose sedation. (Just kidding! Don't email me!) Bren complains in an interview that Magna lacks creativity, probably because all of its members have college degrees. Oh, please. Not everyone with a college degree is as boring as your lawyer ass, dude. You only think college people lack creativity because you've never been to a Drag Ball. Ultimately, the team starts talking about a roving massage business. Stephanie makes a frowny face again, insisting that she sees massages offered at the mall sometimes, and no one is ever getting one. I don't know how she did in college, but I think she got an A in Bitchface. And Bren really needs to wear a smaller bowtie than he currently is sporting, because this look is just making his head look teeny. Stephanie insists that she doesn't "see the average American getting massages." We then move to an Alex interview in which he says, basically, that Stephanie is a big old drag, and she makes everyone bummed out when she starts complaining about every idea they have and why it won't work. The rest of the team is happy with the massages, so they go forward with that. But as they look for a massage person to hire for the day, Stephanie continues to mutter that someone with a business of their own won't want to help them out for a day. Which is stupid, because even people who own their own businesses will take a freelance job if it comes up and it's lucrative. It's not like the masseuse is going to worry about the long-term threat to her business presented by a toy business that's in place for one day.

Kendra explains that Magna went looking for one central person they could hire who would supply all the services and things that they'd want to put in their rolling day spa. They wind up getting in touch with a lovely woman named Marie, whom Bren describes as "a one-stop shop" of spa services. They found her through her web site, making this by far the least exploitive story to ever begin, "Me and my friends, we found this massage lady on the internet." Bren, Alex, and Kendra go to the trailer warehouse, while Michael, Erin, and Stephanie are left behind to find a location and come up with marketing. Michael, goofing off as usual, tells the team they should market it as "Massage-A-Go-Go." And even though it's a completely lame, creaky expression that speaks of old-man porn and the racy appearance of petticoats, Michael manages to say it like he thinks it's all naughty and shit. Erin becomes totally the me of the scene for ten seconds when she says, "You're a pig-a-go-go." That is exactly what I would say, and I'm not too proud to admit it. There's an excellent chance I would also say "shut up-a-go-go." Erin goes on to complain in an interview that Michael doesn't even do anything productive to go with all of his crap -- he just jaws and acts like a jerk and pisses everyone off. He is so going to win, don't you think? As we go to commercial, Michael is still arguing for "Massage-A-Go-Go." Sigh.

This week's Trump motto is simply "Instinct." He tells us that all his best deals are made with his gut, essentially. Presumably, that includes the ones that have ended in spectacular bankruptcies, scandal, and divorce. We watch as he stands with Boyfriend Bill, telling some reporter that his new Chicago building (the one Boyfriend Bill is building all by himself, with just a bucket and a shovel) will be awesome and will make Chicago proud. The reporter embarrasses herself by acting excited. That was important. I'm so glad that was shown. More Trump self-promotion, please!

Net Worth is heading out for a look at its trailer as John reminds us of the task at hand -- the mobile business, blah blah. There is some obligatory ooh-ing and aah-ing (and when I say "obligatory," I mean in the contractual sense) over the Airstream and its hardwood floors and how awesome it is and how it's all they can do not to strip and make mad passionate love to the fixtures right this minute. Once they get a look inside, the team starts throwing out some ideas, one of which is lunchtime speed dating. Oy. The only thing that could make speed dating seem less enticing to me than it already is? Is doing it in a trailer. I mean, like the whole experience doesn't seem fleeting enough already. Tara then raises the specter of New York's plethora of unemployed actors, and the possibility of finding a casting director who would come out and meet with them for a fee. Angie seizes on this immediately, explaining to us that she used to be an actress. She did plays, and apparently even commercials. And this is where she wound up. Don't pursue acting, young people! Craig and his still-awesome 'fro look dubious. As Angie continues to sell, sell, sell this idea, Tana interviews that it was "very risky," but she wanted to -- you guessed it -- "think outside the box." Angie swears that if they choose the casting option, they'll have a line out the door by 8:00 in the morning when they open. That will be the line outside the box. It's all geometry, I'm telling you.

Tana explains that their move was to just cold-call a bunch of casting directors, including independents and ones from agencies. We listen in on an uncomfortable phone call (which John criticizes in an interview), in which Angie apparently fails to convince the woman on the line that it's not some huge scam, because Angie actually manages to get her ass hung up on, which just doesn't happen every day. John points out in that interview that Angie has taken this on to the degree that it's really she who will be "the hero or the goat for this task." I don't want to say that it looks early on like Angie may wind up munching on some shirts, but...well, we'll see.

We now visit with Magna, where Alex, Kendra, and Bren are looking at their trailer and meeting with their spa lady. Bren says that they relied on her expertise, and it seems that the spa lady has some additional ideas for them to put alongside the massage. She suggests a hand treatment table, and she also suggests a fun name. "It's going to be City Spa On The Move," Bren says. Spa Lady gives this spectacularly awesome shrug, like, "Okay, have a boring dipshit name, then."

Back at the L-Pal, Stephanie cleans the kitchen instead of doing any work on the task. Bren calls to tell Erin the name of the business for the purposes of doing marketing, and when Michael finds out that it doesn't have the word "massage" in it, he throws a fit. A big, bullying fit, in which he tries to just talk over Erin -- who's on the Space Communicator with Bren -- until she has to agree with him. But to her credit, she doesn't. Because he's a big jerk. Erin compares it to a five-year-old trying to get his mother's attention and her having to be like, "Mommy's busy." Which isn't a bad comparison, actually. On the phone, Erin orders banners, and then she interviews that getting Michael to do anything except wander around requires constant supervision. Michael eats some pizza, which is a pretty clear demonstration of his usefulness. Or, you know, lack thereof.

At the warehouse, Bren hears from Alex that the rest of the team is at Kinko's working on the logo and whatnot. Bren suggests that that half of the team be asked to provide dinner. Alex says he thinks that won't take long. Bren speaks with Michael on the Space Communicator and asks him to bring dinner out to them, for the team as well as the three techs who are working on the trailer. Michael indignantly complains in an interview that Bren expected them to deliver food. The nerve! Michael and Stephanie -- hard to tell whether Erin is involved -- bitch to each other about being sent to Queens with dinner. Queens! And...come on, idiots. It's Queens, not Detroit. And yes, somebody has to bring dinner. People have to eat. It happens. Is it really that much less dignified than going to fucking Kinko's anyway? Does overseeing the production of flyers really make anyone feel like a titan of industry? These people need to buy some cheeseburgers and shut up.

At Net Worth, Angie is still talking to casting agents, and hasn't lined up anyone yet, and she's leaving a message. John explains that after Angie bombed for about three and a half hours, he and Chris coached Tara (blech, I hate "coaching") through a call to a different agent. This particular lady asks them what they're paying, because normally on a work day, she would be...you know, working. They ask her what it would take to get her there, and she says $500. So they offer her $1000. I'm not sure that's all that savvy a maneuver, but I think they were very anxious to get the whole thing wrapped up. As soon as Tara says $1000, the woman's like, "I'm there." Heh. Because...I mean, it's one day. They get off the phone. John congratulates himself on helping Tara get the casting agent. Tana explains that this particular agent has worked with Sex and the City, and is casting a movie with, as Tana says, "Uma Thurma." I have to say, I think if that were her actual name, she would have had a really different life, because that is an even sillier name than she already has. It's particularly great when Tana talks in her interview about how impressed she was to hear the name "Uma Thurma." Because "that's a big name, hello!" File that under "things you couldn't make up." Tara high-fives Chris and John and Craig, and the team declares the plan to be in place.

Construction guys work on modifying the trailers. Tana product-places how much she loves her Airstream trailer. It's cozy! It's beautiful! See the world in your Airstream trailer!

In the Magna van, Stephanie and Michael are still bitching about how much Bren sucks as a leader for making them bring dinner to the team. Michael adds in an interview that he immediately thought, "This man, Bren, is not all there." Unlike people who fantasize about being Donald Trump and imagine that he's winking at them, who are everyone's touchstone for mental health. It's so dopey, because obviously, part of what they're doing is joining the rest of the team. So really, unless they would otherwise go home while everyone else is working, they have to go out to where the work is anyway, and they're just getting dinner on the way. What is the big fucking deal? Once they get to the warehouse, Stephanie stomps around all, "This is so ridiculous, so ridiculous." Bren isn't sure exactly what to do, but he tells her he's sorry she's upset. She says to him that Queens was really "out of [their] way." Wait, isn't she working? Isn't there a task they're supposed to be doing? How is that a complaint, that "It was out of our way"? Moron. ["And 'out of their way' towhat? Cleveland?" -- Sars] Oh, and also, she says that she's "not complaining." Which means I would hate to see what complaining looks like from her. Bren tells her that she should have "vocalized" (ew) that concern if she was so unhappy about it. Bren adds that Stephanie "demoralize[d]" the team by bringing up her little gripes about the dinner situation when everyone was working. He points out that it left the distinct impression that she doesn't give a rip about anyone but herself. Which is true. He also makes an extended and largely unsuccessful pool allusion in the service of calling Stephanie "shallow." Stephanie continues to bitch, and the great part is that when Bren asks her what she thinks he should have done instead, she says that he should have had food delivered locally. He points out that if she thought that was all they were being asked to do, they could have done exactly the same thing from Manhattan -- called and had food brought to the warehouse. That was awesome, because either she has to admit she didn't think of that -- which she didn't -- or she has to admit that she knows he also wanted them to come out to the warehouse to be with the team, in which case it's not such a sin to ask them to pick up some cheeseburgers. You can kind of tell he's a trial lawyer.

The day is Task Day, and here comes a red SUV lugging Net Worth's Castingmobile. Audrey motions it over to the curb, and the trailer is secured. Now, why it's so important to run a "mobile business" when they're not going to move all day long is rather a mystery to me, because it seems to me that they could have done this from any storefront, but...there you go. Tana interviews that she was happy with their location, as we see banners go up that say "Actor Factor Casting." Wow, "Actor Factor"? That is blindingly lame. The trailer opens up and lets in Meredith, the thousand-dollar casting lady. She is shown into the trailer and, to everyone's surprise, talks about how very beautiful the trailer is. And it's by Airstream! And it's for sale! You could buy one! For about $60,000 for a "classic" 28-footer! And then Tana sends the team out to "scream it out." Because this is their marketing idea. They've decided to employ the "scream on the street" technique. We watch as Angie -- who is doing something even more odd than usual with her hair today, and appears to have little horns or Leia-buns or something -- tries to hand out flyers to passing random strangers. In an interview, John points out that Angie had promised that there would be a flood of willing actors and actresses, and right now, the flood isn't deep enough to get the tops of anyone's shoes wet, particularly. Moreover, the people who are showing up don't particularly want to pay the $25 fee that's apparently being charged for a handful of minutes with a casting director. As a couple of people appear to scurry away from the trailer, Craig comments to Chris that some of them seem to have attended a workshop where they were told, "Don't you ever pay for a casting." And if I were an actor, I believe that's the attitude I would take. Because it does kind of have "scam" written all over it. Angie looks nervous. I would, too.

We move to Magna, where the day spa is being set up. And then they're underway, and they're moving the morning's first massages. At ten bucks for ten minutes, it's not a terrible deal if you had some time on your way to work. Bren explains that after being open for about half an hour, the room is full of people, and things seem to be good. Erin hustles guys on the street into feeling like they'll prove how masculine they are by getting a massage, which is a pretty good trick. Michael, in the least energetic way you can imagine, half-assedly asks people on the street whether they want massages. But you can tell he hates doing it, and New York has enough guys handing out flyers who are inordinately excited about their work that nobody is going to take up from a guy who looks this miserable. Michael comes over and tells Bren that the problem is that it's "creepy" to have a man handing out flyers for a massage. Excuse me? Maybe it's what a total pushover I am, but a cute boy would be the most likely salesperson to get me to get a massage. Granted, Michael is not cute, so perhaps that's his problem, but there's nothing about a man doing this that's odd in the slightest. I suppose he's back on his Nescafe theory in which all customers are horny straight guys, and I guess if you assume that, and if you're an idiot, then you'd think it was weird to have a man do the selling. Erin interviews that Michael indeed took a position of total helplessness throughout the entire task.

In a really good sequence I'm glad they included because it rules, Michael tries to ho-ho-ho at George, kind of guy-to-guy, about how stupid it is for men to be pushing massages, and George sort of grumps that he doesn't understand what the big deal is, and Michael is all smirky about whether George would buy a massage from a man, and George is like, "Why not? Massages are always good!" So Michael just got smoked by George, Your Snarky Grandpa. Who, in the immortal words of Sars, kicks so much ass he needs special shoes.

We move over to Net Worth, where people are yelling on the street, and Tana is explaining that things did start slow, but she was happy when they finally got a customer. Said first customer appears to come in the form of a squatty little lady. Not sure she has a future on Sex And The City, but maybe in the Uma Thurma movie. Outside, Tara is in the middle of explaining to a very plain-looking guy who also doesn't exactly have Huge Star written all over him that this is a very special opportunity to meet this casting lady whom he otherwise would not meet. Tana says that after about 1:30, "that freaking place was pumping." Well, sure. All the actors just woke up. Bartending runs late. John explains in an interview that what they did was snag people outside and get them inside the trailer to talk to Tana, and there, they'd get hit up for the payment. Angie says in an interview that indeed, once they got going, they had a line, and everything went great. The casting lady meets with a dwarf and a guy named Radar. John adds that at some point, they realized that it wasn't just a scam on these poor actors the way they were thinking it would be -- the agent was actually giving work to people. Their rip-off turned into a rainbow! We watch as the casting lady tells someone she can put them in something week. (It's not the dwarf or Radar, I have to tell you.) At 3:00, things shut down for the day, and Net Worth seems satisfied. Tana says she thinks they might have won, although obviously, she doesn't want to jinx it. She doesn't knock on her own head, but I wouldn't blame her.

Things are wrapping up at Magna, too, and Bren voices over that a victory would really vindicate him -- remember, he was the brains behind Cucumber Dick, the Homosexual Commercial.

We then find ourselves in the Boardroom, where the candidates are entering to receive the task results. Trump enters and is seated, and then he asks Jill how Magna did. Their revenue was $918.50. Now, this task specifically said it was based on revenue, not profit, so I'm assuming that expenses don't come out of that. We then go to George to report on Net Worth. He starts by calling their idea "a big risk." And sometimes risks are good, and sometimes they're not. And sometimes George is just fucking with you. But anyway, he eventually gives up the fact that Net Worth made $991.

Now that makes a certain amount of sense, because if they were charging $25 a head, that's roughly 40 people. I don't think the casting lady could realistically have seen a lot more people than that, so I think that's just revenue. And you'll remember that they paid the casting lady $1000. So they lost money. I seem to recall them asking her to get there at 8:45 in the morning, and so that means they had her for about six hours, so they paid her about $166 an hour for her time, assuming they paid her while she was eating lunch. And even if they kept her busy the entire time -- which we know they didn't -- she'd have to see one person about every eight or nine minutes for this to break even on her time alone. That's assuming they spent zero on the banners and the flyers and the space and the trailer and everything else. In other words, this scheme won, but it sucked, and it lost money, and it was priced to lose money. I understand about judging the task on revenue, so the competition was fair, but having a task win that was this patently anti-profitable is still a little funny for something that's supposed to be a show about business.

Anyway, LoopTrump congratulates the teams for sucking substantially less than last week, and says that their reward will be a trip to Mikimoto, where they have great pearls, apparently, and the team will be sharing a $20,000 shopping spree. Magna, on the other hand, will be coming back to the Boardroom to see someone fired. Oh, and Trump reminds Tana that week, she's exempt. OR IS SHE? Just kidding. She is. PROBABLY! (I can't stop.) (OR CAN I?)