Okay, no opening montages of bands waking up today. Just Brendon and Katina. They want to rub FLICK's failure in their faces once more:
Total Tour Earnings:
FLICK: $5382
HARLOW: $6008
GOD-A.P.-SUCKS: $6650
Apparently, the town is New Orleans. Everyone seems pretty psyched. Chimene: "Time to get nothing done in New Orleans!" Fletcher: "Except go to a lot of strip clubs." Hmm.
Car banter:
HARLOW. Rebecca is ready to give up and just go to FLICK shows. Amanda: "I think everyone's forgetting what this is all about. It's not about the fucking competition. We fucking rock, and I'm not about to storm out of some venue just because some guy's being a fucking jerk. We wake up at, like, eight at night, and we go out and make friends, and we've gotten really far. I'm really proud of us." As well you should be. I would be pretty proud of my band if we sucked rocks and still beat out FLICK. It's astonishing, really.CRACK. Ramsey: "'No girlfriends on the road' is a pretty important rule. I made an exception this time." Apparently, Ramsey is planning to have his girlfriend come to New Orleans. I would care if I cared. But I don't, because we've heard Ramsey say about three words all season. Whatever. Slutton's girlfriend is coming, too. Bob: "There's nothing harder than being in a band and having a girlfriend, or being in a band with somebody who has a girlfriend." Oh, poor forlorn Bob. Not. No sympathy for you!
FLICK. Rex: "Our club is a metal club." Brandin: "On a Friday night? That place is gonna be full of metalheads, man!" Ya think, Brandin? Everyone seems vexed.
All the bands arrive in New Orleans, and SOULCRACKER decides to check out their venue, Carrollton Station. Sutton is getting seriously annoyed with AP: "He seems to approach everyone with this air of superiority. 'Check this out, we've got this awesome show coming up...'" I have to say, I agree. I think AP is starting to suck more and more with each episode. It's a strange phenomenon, because the more AP bugs me, the less Beastie does. I can't explain it. Regardless, AP does, in fact, suck ass. Sutton: "Tonight we can tie him down to his bed and give him a pink belly all night." Sounds like a plan. Can I get in on that?
HARLOW is already loving New Orleans. Rebecca: "We didn't really fit in in Memphis, but once we got here, Amanda turned to me and said, 'We're gonna win New Orleans.'" I wouldn't hold my breath, because your band sucks, but I'm glad you're having fun. Amanda meets Laura, a New Orleans native (and also lesbionic in the most fabulous way). She happens to be the club manager, and hangs out with HARLOW into the wee hours. Amanda: "I was just thinking, 'Wow, she's really hot. We're gonna go get drunk and have a lot of fun.'" Drunk? In New Orleans? Go on! Laura wants to know whether they're going to be the "bad girls of the documentary. That would be so fun!" Riiiigghhtt. They're getting mighty close.
FLICK is in a strip club, surprise, surprise-not-it's- not-a-surprise- at-all. Rex: "Dominic has to go to strip clubs, which I don't understand. It's not sexuality, it's commerce. They want your money, not you." ["What?! That's not really true, is it?" -- Wing Chun] Quick shot of Rex uncomfortably introducing himself to one of the strippers. Then a shot of Dom getting danced on. Fletcher: "There's Dominic, lying on the dance floor, one girl sitting on his face, another straddling him. I was like, 'Okay, now we're in Nyahlins.'" Dom: "We had fun." Giggle. Oh, Dom, please.
CRACK has lined up a late-night gig at some place called Snake Jakes or something. They sound like poo and nobody listens, which naturally puts a smile on Mr. Stupidhead's face. Sutton: "There would be a few people listening at a time, and those people really liked us." Or they were just being polite. Afterwards, CRACK is walking back to the van, and Beastie points out a dead rat that he flyered. "Yeah, I just told him 'we're playing at the Hanta Virus Inn.'" That's actually pretty funny. You see? Why is Beastie, of all people, making me laugh. He shouldn't be. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
Quick merch update before the commercial:
FLICK: $20
HARLOW: $30
SOULCRACKER: $105
Dude, ever since DODES left the show, the commercials have gotten longer by at least two minutes. Looks like the BOTR post-production team is getting a bit lazy. Buck up, campers!
So HARLOW's on the radio, once again. Rebecca: "We're all caught up in this machine, and whether we like it or not, I'm still gonna call up radio stations and book interviews." Dude, you know what must kind of suck about being in HARLOW? Whenever they do a radio show, they never get comments like, "We really dig that song 'Blue Lie'" or "You guys rock." They always get, "You guys are beautiful" and "I'm really digging the whole chick thing." Is it really so fascinating that they're female and play in a rock band? And it's like, even if they're music did indeed rock, these low-life early-morning radio "personalities" would still not even think to mention it. "Chick thing?" Get a life, dude.
Bonus, bonus, bonus! The winning band gets to play on a Bourbon Street balcony, and, as usual, a hundred and fifty beans. They also get an open bar while they play. The bands have to meet up at some place called Razzoo on Bourbon Street to get further instructions. HARLOW gets the news during their radio interview, which sucks for them. They can't win now. Fletcher wants to go right now: "Free booze?!" Heh.
Amanda doesn't feel like doing it at all. "Playing to a bunch of drunk, white, male tourists...I just didn't feel up to that sort of humiliation." Um, whatever. It's money and free booze. Just try for once, dammit! Chimene: "The whole 'equipment moving' thing is a real pain in the ass." What? That is such a lazy-ass thing to say. My god, you are in a band. Moving equipment is part of the job. Buck up, camper!
Over at Razzoo, Brandin and AP are shooting the shit. Brandin: "HARLOW isn't coming." AP: "Why not?" Brandin: "I think they got something else lined up." AP: "Once I heard 'free drinks,' I knew you guys would be all over it." Brandin gives him the "yeah, okay, you got me: we like to drink, you butthole, you reek like a septic tank" look, which makes me nearly pee myself. Awesome.
Okay, so the bands have to persuade a stranger to give them some Mardi Gras beads, and they have to hang them on the door of 232 Bourbon Street. First band wins performance blah blah blah.
Dominic gets some beads, but naturally, he's already wasted so he starts running in circles. Bob: "I heard some screaming and I look over and I see Dominic with some beads in his hands running down the street, and I'm like, 'Shit.'" Bob, don't shut up. Just die. Can't you let them have just one stinking break? You're beating them by well over $1200. You can't just show a little mercy and lighten up and enjoy yourself? You're such a dick. Dicky McDickdick. Dicker O'Dickegan. Bob, I've said a few times, and I'll say it again. You. Smell. Like. Poo. You are poo, Bob.