Welcome to the wonderful world of puke, people. No, not the show. My apartment. I am the reluctant victim of food poisoning, thanks to the mighty minds behind the Burger King breakfast extravaganza. So, if I refer to a bout of vomiting at any time during this recap, it's most likely not as a result of some icky Closeted-Gay-Dad activity. I said "most likely," you know. I could still yak on command if there's a single leering Dad moment on this show...
And away we go...
Hunter's sitting in a director's chair, having several people wait on her while she mentally lists all of the important tasks she has at hand: "Blow on nails," "bat eyes viciously," "beek out all possible means of personal destruction to others"...Marcy just stands to her, awaiting her humiliating moment. Kevin passes by and tosses them both their scripts. Hunter takes one whiff and tosses it aside, saying, "Smells like a five share." Yeah, it took me a minute to figure out what the hell she was talking about. Actually, it took me watching it three times before I realized it was a "viewing shares" reference. I'm not retarded, but sometimes I am slow on the uptake.
Marcy jangles with excitement when she discovers who the guest director will be on this week's ep. Ridley Scott? Jonathan Demme? Uh...Robert Redford? Ol' Bob's got time for TV now that The Legend of Bagger Vance is taking a first class header into the Tinseltown dumpster. Sadly, none of the aforementioned directors are at the helm. Instead, it's Jonah Mumford. Yes, I know. The name doesn't ring a bell. THAT'S BECAUSE HE'S FICTIONAL. LIKE SANTA CLAUS. OR THE EASTER BUNNY...OR THE...or the...wow...I am DIGGING these drugs my boss gave me...wheeeeeee...
It turns out that Hunter has had carnal knowledge of this "Jonah" person and has deemed him an utter loser. "He actually asked me to come and watch him direct an episode of Shasta McNasty!" Hunter says. Wasn't that a show on the WB or Fox or something? It sounds familiar. But that's probably because it sucked reptile eggs and lasted, like, thirty seconds. ["Yes. On the UPN, which is why you can't remember anything about it." -- Sars]
Courtney speeds up to the girls with her hair a-flyin', all a-twitter about this "Jonah" character. Um. Can I just say one thing about Courtney's appearance in this scene? SHE LOOKS LIKE A TROLLOP. A modern-day Hollywood version of a trollop, but a trollop nonetheless. Her hair's all sharply edged and sticky, her make-up's been applied by Tammy Faye's former make-up artist, and she's wearing a top that's stretched so tightly across her boobs that I think I can actually see her implant scars. I'm just sayin'. Anyway, Courtney's even more fanatically excited about this guy than Marcy is, but for different reasons. Well, for one important reason, I believe. "This is exactly what I need!" Courtney blabbers. "To throw myself into my work." What work would that be, Court? The work where you walk around in bikini underpants and melon lip-gloss and suck some guy's tonsils in the school hallway? Yeah, I'd throw myself into that kind of work too, let me tell you.
But it turns out that Courtney's just worked up because this Jonah dude is supposedly directing the Matt Damon movie. Did I mention Bagger Vance? I see that I did. As soon as Marcy and Hunter hear this little tidbit, their minor interest in Jonah beefs up to rabid adoration. The Miracle-That-Is-Jonah makes his entrance onto the set, and Hunter drops her assessment of "loser" and upgrades Jonah to "lip-lickable." She boob-knocks Courtney out of her way in order to be first in line to give Jonah what I'm sure is not his first ass-slobbering.
Hunter jaywalks her booty-call of a butt over to Jonah and says, "So? How's the sexiest director in Hollywood doing?" My future husband David Fincher is doing just fine, thank you. I'll tell him you say hello. Jonah answers Hunter's question with, "Having fun...life is...uh...good." Now, if this little turd of a sentence weren't being spoken in a thinly veiled British accent, I'd have to go ballistic on its blatant moronic qualities. But I won't. Because I am a whore for accents. Plain and simple. Ask Hank4. He's sexy anyway, but when he launches into the William Wallace speech from Braveheart, I lose all self-control. By the time he makes it to the "From this day to that" part, his boxer shorts are hanging from the ceiling fan and I've got my tongue in his ear.
Hunter's in the process of telling Jonah that she's been trying to get Rob to hire Jonah for years when Courtney and Marcy run up to perform their fair share of boot-licking. Rob introduces them to Jonah, and Jonah gushes all over Courtney about how the fans love her in the chat rooms. Jonah fails to mention that "The Fans" also use handles like "CockMan" and "MuffDiver," and their favorite pastime is altering pictures of Jennifer Aniston and Sarah Michelle Gellar so that they look naked. But that's not important right now.
As Jonah talks to Courtney, Hunter runs her finger over her freshly glossed lips and tries to keep Jonah's attention by tilting her head so far over to the right that her ear touches her shoulder. She should have tried bending her legs behind her ears while not smudging her lipstick. That would have caught his eye.
Marcy hauls Courtney off to make-up, and Hunter and Jonah are alone. Together. With no one else around. Oh, except for Hunter's ASS, which I swear gets bigger with every damn episode. Or maybe it's these drugs..."Side effects may include: Objects on television screen appearing larger than they are in real life. WAY, WAY LARGER." Hunter continues her hopeless flirting, and she's kind of creeping the hell out of me. She asks Jonah out for a drink, and mercifully the credits come on. Of course, not before Hunter's gigazmo ASS makes another appearance.