Previously, Fox cancelled several shows that didn't actually have murderous waves of suck emanating from them like the stink off a manure lagoon.
Announcer-Man grandly reminds us of the pain we endured a mere forty-eight hours ago, as if we could have forgotten. Believe me, Announcer-Man, I still have the bottles I emptied trying to numb the pain. Anyway, at that time, the peeps of Jill, Stephen, and Billie Jeanne narrowed their marriage candidates from five dimwits down to two, and America was asked the only question that really matters: would you tie up your phone line for the thirty seconds it would take to vote, thus risking the possibility that you would miss a phone call from your dentist? Announcer-Man claims that "millions called" to vote. Considering that "millions" barely even watched, I seriously doubt that, Announcer-Man. I think he's overcounting Valentine's mom. Announcer-Man then remarks that "the fates of Jill, Stephen, and Billie Jeanne have been sealed." I'm sure he didn't mean for that to sound like they had been sentenced to die by firing squad, which means that whatever patterologist is writing his shtick needs a little remedial training. I think that Sally Struthers University offers an associate degree. But anyway, out with the old suck, in with the new suck! I love novelty.
Tonight, it's time for Jennifer and Matt to be put through their paces, which you might already know if the contestants introduced two days ago were anywhere near as memorable as your average bowl of Shredded Wheat. Once this crucial news has been passed on, they show the first truly worthwhile piece of entertainment we've seen so far. Hysterically, they show us how the proposals are apparently going to be accomplished in the episode after this one -- we see this guy in a suit getting down on one knee and slipping a ring on the finger of a woman who is sticking only her hand through a screen that's between them. No, really. She sticks her hand through the hole they've cut through this rigged-up contraption, and he puts the ring on without being able to see her. It's the way MacGyver would have proposed if he had fallen in love with a woman who lived in a steel box. But really, you can't blame them for preserving their gimmick. These people are getting engaged sight unseen! Sight unseen! It's that big a secret, people. Security must be taken seriously. Stand away from the air locks! Don your hazmat suits! Mmm, hazmat suits.
And now, your host, Sean Valentine. (Audience, mistakenly believing that Announcer-Man said "Shaun Cassidy": "Wooooo!") By the way, Sean says his name as if there's some chance that it's going to mean something to us, other than "Isn't that what The Simpsons would call the operator of a fraudulent computer dating service?" Sean has no function except to repeat just about everything that Announcer-Man just said. In fact, I'm surprised that Announcer-Man's voice doesn't suddenly boom, "Didn't I just say that, Sean?" Sean talks a while longer without saying anything, which is a remarkable skill, and which makes this show a fitting accompaniment to Thursday night's presidential news conference. He basically hits you with "week, people will get engaged. Right here on this stage. So if you keep watching, they will get engaged. On this stage. week. On this stage. Because we've got people who are willing to get engaged, and it will happen week. GUESS WHERE!" Announcer-Man tells us that we have to go to break, but he promises us that after the break, events will occur. I am skeptical. I haven't seen so much emphasis on set-up without any discernible ETA for the actual event since the Super Bowl. And since the last Super Bowl I watched was probably five years ago, it's really been a while.
When we return, Sean repeats the various principles of the show (actually, "premises," because saying "principles" in the context of this particular situation makes my nerves all jangly), and then he tells us that Jennifer will be first up tonight. They now show exactly the same profile of Jennifer that they showed on Monday night. No, really, it's exactly the same piece of footage. And it's not like it was a really hot piece of documentary filmmaking the first time around, either. It's really not a good sign when you're in the third hour of your incredibly controversial marriage show and you're pushing this hard to find filler. When the profile is over, Sean calls Jennifer down off her perch, just like he did the other night when he introduced her. She strolls over as if he's not completely creepy, and then Sean calls her "sweetie." Ew. Back off the contestants, you tiny-faced sleazebag. "Why are you trying to meet a guy in this manner?" he asks her. Surprisingly enough, he is referring to meeting guys by going on television, not by running over every time a grungy TV host snaps his fingers and says "sweetie." In explaining to Sean her decision to go on the show, she avoids the true-but-obvious "I'm doing it to avoid guys like you, you greasy punk," and says that she's been looking for a while, and it hasn't worked yet, so she figured she might as well just give up. Great attitude, there, pumpkin. Because nothing feeds true love like the sweet, pungent fertilizer of absolute desperation.
Jennifer steps aside to give way to designated goofball Matt, who similarly stands on his perch as his Monday night profile plays. Again. Aw, there's Matt with his dog! Aw, there's Matt's family! Aw, there are Matt's ears! Aw, there's Matt's dignity! (Beware, the shattered shards are sharp!) After the profile, Matt strolls over to Sean, who says, "You're funny, you're charming, you're attractive..." God, back off, Valentine. Don't make me explain the concept of a hostile environment. Matt looks a little surprised by this gush of affection as Sean goes on to say that Matt has obviously got everything a girl could be looking for (aside from boundaries, evidently), so it's hard to believe he's still single. Once again, Sean uses the construction "Why are you trying to find a girl in this manner?" Okay, who taught Sean that he should say, "in this manner"? Because it really doesn't make him sound as much like a college professor as he imagines it does. Matt explains that it's "an incredible adventure," and "something [he'd] share with only one person." That's certainly a new twist on an old concept. He would share his love and life and wonderful adventure with only one person -- but he doesn't really care who it is. "What are you looking for in a girl, Matt?" "Well, Sean, I'm not picky about personality, looks, or compatibility in general, but I do feel strongly that she should be unitary." Here's a hint, Matt: being a one-woman man generally presupposes that you will, in fact, know who in the hell the one woman is. Otherwise, you're more of an any-woman man.
Matt and Jennifer stand off to the side as Sean intones that, at this point, they are being sent off to be sequestered in their 1965-style glass booths with their Sonny and Cher headphones, where they will wait to see what their peeps do with the available merchandise.
When we return, Sean tells us that it's time for the Peeps of Jennifer to have their way with the last five suitor-boys. Her first peep is her brother Stephen, who is an exact laboratory-manufactured double of Ryan Seacrest. Wow. Just when you think this show can't find any more ways to be drop-dead, spit-in-your-face, knock-your-teeth-out creepy. , we meet Jennifer's mother Joyce, who looks like she's about six plastic surgeries over the legal limit, and Jennifer's best friend Alicia, who looks eerily like Jennifer Aniston would if you bleached her hair and let her eat. They all wave uncomfortably. Well, everyone's nervous the first time they choose a loved one's spouse based on a five-minute interview. By way of introduction, Sean asks Joyce why she thinks her daughter has gone so horribly wrong as to take part in this grotesque enterprise (I am paraphrasing), and Joyce says, "I think America always makes great choices." Of all the times that television has very nearly made my head explode, this remark is in the top three. Rob Schneider, Kenny G, The Mummy Returns, Velveeta, the WWE, Shania Twain, Prohibition, the Backstreet Boys...wake up, Joyce. Your daughter could be about to marry the single-man equivalent of Gladiator. I think that last nip and tuck may have involved going a little too deep with the scalpel, if you know what I'm saying.
At any rate, the peeps will once again have five guys to work with. Despite the fact that there are only five guys left standing on the risers to be called down, the audience still applauds each of them as his name is called, as if he's won something. Wooo! Perhaps it's a way of congratulating them for getting down to the stage without falling. First up is Joshua, our twenty-five-year-old investment banker, who has curly blond hair and big shiny teeth. Joshua reminds me absolutely eerily of someone, but I cannot for the life of me figure out who it is. It's quite honestly driving me nuts. I was thinking for a while that it was a Bunim-Murray person of some vintage, but now I'm thinking it's not. Right behind Joshua, we have Xavier, a.k.a. "Frenchie," who reminds us that he's twenty-nine. "I eem-port clothes from Europe," he explains. I can't help it -- his nicely cut suit makes me think dirty thoughts about accounting. , Sean calls down Scott, a rather dull-looking fellow with a mop of discouraged hair; he reminds us that he's in "sales." That's got to be my favorite description of a person's occupation. Could be an international buyer, could work the counter in the men's department at Mervyn's, could go from house to house pushing kitchen cleaner made from oranges. We just don't know. I guess that's what makes him fascinating. Sigh. He makes a really bizarre remark that he's glad he did this, because he and Jennifer "would have never met in a bar." Wha-huh? Yeah, anyway. up is Paul, who memorably brought up his affection for Evil Dead 2 during the premiere episode. He says, "I'm a web developer and screenwriter from Los Angeles, California...and a heck of a good guy." I'm sorry, but the first and second halves of that sentence simply do not go together. Finally, we have Jeremy, the very, very irritating self-appointed "funny guy," who starts off like he's going to do stand-up and once again refers to his hometown as "Hot-lanta, Georgia," and therefore is once again dead to me. Dead! As if that weren't enough, he says, "All right, woo!" during his own introduction. He's like the host of his own little dork party. He's blowing up his own balloons, he's got the party hats, and he doesn't need anyone's permission to make his own fun. Stand back -- he's got a kazoo!
Brother Stephcrest asks the five guys, "What's the one thing you'd be willing to change to please your partner?" Now there's a patently dumb-ass question, not that I should be surprised. Are they supposed to pick the most dispensable quality they possess? Shouldn't he be asking what you wouldn't be willing to change to please your partner? Or at least asking for your general philosophy about changing to please your partner? I mean, couldn't they all just say, "Well, I'd be happy to change deodorant brands if it would really make her happy, because as much as I love Speed Stick, I would love my wife more"? I don't understand this question at all. Neither does Paul, because this is his answer, verbatim: "Okay, Stephen. I believe that marriage involves a complete change of being, with the single 'I' turning into the 'we,' and having all the consideration for the 'I' going into the 'we,' considering the two as one -- if this is making any sense [!!] -- but really, the only thing I think I can really count on going into a marriage is change." Wow. I have two words of advice for you, Paul: Less. Weed. ["Also, I am married, and I have been known to go a couple of days without even changing my pyjamas, so whatever on the whole marriage=change thing." -- Wing Chun] Stephcrest looks like he's considering beating the living crap out of poor Paul for unloading that horrible load of crap on the peeps. Alicia tries to nod intelligently, but her neck might just be tired. I don't think she followed Paul on that, either. Oh, and also, right in the middle of that speech about the "I" and the "we," it would have been so funny if Xavier had yelled, "Oui!" But he didn't. No one on this show knows how to have a good time. They should call me.
to answer is Joshua. He explains that his parents have been happily married for thirty-one years, which is pretty much apropos of nothing. He thinks that in a marriage, you give one hundred percent of yourself sometimes, and then sometimes you get a hundred percent from the other person. Joshua, you see, lives in a black-and-white world in which there is no such thing as a moment in which both he and his wife might be receiving some measure of happiness. Marriage to Joshua would apparently be like being underwater with only one air hose between you -- sometimes you're breathing, and sometimes your husband is breathing, but never both. He smiles emptily in his sea-foam sweater. You know, I can almost imagine what it would be like to push on the side of his head -- I think it would be spongy and uniform, like a Nerf ball.
Jeremy outs himself as a complete punk-ass by starting his response by saying that of course, he will first learn to respond to all of Jennifer's requests with "those three magic words -- 'yes, my queen.'" Wow, that women-as-dictators joke has been hilarious ever since it was published by Ben Franklin's nephew in Ye Olde Humoure Journall in 1789. Jeremy goes on to say that some of his ex-girlfriends have found him to be too focused on his work, so he thinks that one thing he might change would be to shift his attention toward his wife. That's if he had one, of course, which he's not going to if he doesn't get some damn new material. "Yes, my queen" indeed. Ass.
Xavier says that change has been a big part of his life, and he thinks people who don't change are going backwards. He's hip to the change! He's the change man! He's your ambassador of change! There's almost nothing he wouldn't change for his wife. He flashes his gorgeous smile, and the peeps applaud hungrily.
Scott tells us that his parents instilled good values in him about compromise, and he knows that marriage is all about compromise. He doesn't give much of an answer, and he doesn't even have a steamy accent like Xavier does. Oh, how I drown in my ocean of ennui.
And now it's time for what I think is possibly the worst part of this very bad show: this is where Sean reveals a very scandalous secret about one of them. How lame is this segment? Well, it's this lame: the big secret is that Scott, who's thirty-three, lives with his mom. That's a scandalous secret now? What ever happened to sex-change operations? What ever happened to porn? It's so ironic, because this is apparently the only reality-show cast of all time ever that does not have a three-inch thick file of DWIs among them. Anyway, yeah, Scott lives at home. Armed with this critical piece of information, the peeps put their heads together, and now it's time to eliminate someone. The first to go is Paul. Stephcrest explains that he really didn't understand the I/we speech, and Jennifer's a pretty straightforward person, so he doesn't think she'd like the incoherent babbling very much. Asked to respond, Paul gives a weird, twitchy speech in which he smiles tightly and inappropriately at strange junctures. Hmm, I think I've gone from amused to downright unsettled by his fondness for Evil Dead 2. I'm just saying, it's not an instructional video.
Now that we've gotten rid of one of the skanks, it's time to move on to the round of questions, which are supposedly gleaned from the peeps' review of the fellas' background files. Mom starts by addressing Xavier, who turns his male-model smile on her with utter ruthlessness. She asks him what was the most romantic thing he's ever done for a woman he was in love with. Xavier explains that he thinks being romantic is often about small things, like noticing your wife across a room that's filled with other people. ["Or, you know, guessing which one of those people she might be, in this case." -- Wing Chun] He makes it sound really sexy and French. "You cannot plan being romant-eek," he says. Mom likes his answer. She's thinking about how she would look parading around an expensive hotel suite wearing nothing but Xavier's shirt.
Alicia now addresses Scott. She asks him about the fact that he was the youngest person ever to run for mayor of Tulsa, Oklahoma. I personally would argue that running for mayor of Tulsa is just as embarrassing as living with your mom. She asks Scott why he ran, and how it affected him. He says he learned that you have to go after what you want, in spite of your fears. Way to dish those clichés, pinhead. He is much too idealistic for politics, I can already tell.
Now Stephcrest asks Joshua about the fact that he's only twenty-five years old, and has already determined that he wants four kids. Sean is all shocked that Joshua wants so many. How many, four? Jeez, Stephcrest, it's not like he said he wanted to have forty-six kids and live in a shoe. Joshua answers that he loves children, and he thinks that children are our future. No, he really does say that. Mercifully, he does not sing. He does, however, go on: "If you have no children, you have no future, and I want a future," he says. Wow, Joshua, on behalf of all the childless people of America, I want to say we really appreciate your respectful treatment of our cold, meaningless lives. Don't mind me; I'll just be over here with my head in the oven, flicking a lighter. (It's okay; my oven is electric. I'll mostly be bored out of my skull, which seems appropriate.) ["And, we're supposed to be taking life tips from Fox reality-show participants now? Joshua, why don't you just go home and wait for the network to start soliciting applicants for their new show fall, Knocked Up By America?" -- Wing Chun]
, Stephcrest addresses the icky Jeremy. Stephcrest asks about the fact that the first time Jeremy went to a strip club, it was with his parents: "Is this some kind of a family tradition?" Ew. Seriously. Jeremy grins, as he always does, and explains that "it's not like [he and his parents] were celebrating Thanksgiving dinner there." Oh, well, it's okay, then. After all, an ordinary family dinner periodically interrupted by lapdances is nothing to be embarrassed about. Who among us hasn't done that? Jeremy goes on to say that he has the coolest parents in the world, and he thinks they just wanted to teach him "the value of a dollar." Okay, I admit that's a passably good line, but unfortunately, he acts much too amused by it, and it still doesn't actually explain why he went to a strip club with his parents. Most people I know have been traumatized on any occasions on which they have inadvertently gone with their parents to attend movies with an explicit sex scene in them, so a strip club? With both your parents? Yeesh.
Sean shows us Jennifer in her isolation booth again, and then we return to the peeps for the final decision on the narrowing of the field. to go is Jeremy, unsurprisingly enough. Stephcrest gives the lame and phony excuse that Jeremy is from Atlanta, and one of the reasons Jennifer went on the show was to meet somebody who isn't from Atlanta. That is seriously the worst blow-off excuse I've heard since "something suddenly came up." Not able to resist one last rimshot, Jeremy offers to move, if his Atlanta-ness is a problem. Ha! Ho! Har! Everyone laughs politely, because it's either that, or haul him forcibly off the stage, and most theaters don't actually carry person-sized hooks anymore, because of liability issues. On his way off the pedestal and into well-deserved obscurity, he tells Alicia that he hopes she can set him up with some of her friends. Somewhere, Alicia's friends shudder and double-check that their caller ID is working. Jeremy praises the other contestants, and then he is finally gone. Gone! He manages to squeeze in a mention of "Hot-lanta" yet again before he leaves. With Jeremy gone, the peeps are sent off for their intensive round of interviewing with Joshua, Xavier, and Scott.
When we come back from commercials, they show the promo stuff again about how after the episode, it's not going to look so much like a cheap-ass pageant, and they show the bit again with the woman's hand through the hole in the wall. It makes me laugh again.
Now, it's Matt's turn. We see him whiling away the hours in his bluish isolation booth, drumming his hands on the arms of his chair like a ten-year-old. Which I guess he sort of is. Okay, time to meet Matt's peeps. First, his mom, Georgina. She certainly looks a bit more like she's got some of her original parts than Jennifer's mom did. Matt's sister Sarah is there, too, wearing a really eye-catching necklace that I would have recommended she leave at home. Last, but not least, is Matt's best friend Mike, who is wearing a really skeevy navy blue shiny shirt. Ew. Why do guys think that shiny shirts are ever a good idea? As my friend FlyBoy once said, a shiny shirt does nothing so much as make you want to ask the person if he's in a salsa band. Anyway, Sean asks Mike what he thinks of Mike trying to meet a woman "in this particular fashion." I guess he was looking for an alternative to "in this manner." Mike says that he was surprised, because he didn't realize Matt had sunk this low, but he apparently was truly desperate. Of course, he says it nicer.
And now, let's shake our heads at the five chicks who have a chance at Matt. Kelly is a horseback rider from Florida. She's wearing a stretchy halter top with colors right out of the 1974 Sears World of Furniture catalog, by the way. Lots of brown and orange. It's rec-room-a-rific! up is Sally, who's a "building coordinator for a pediatric group" from Boston. I'm sorry, do any of these people have normal jobs? And no, "reality-show contestant" doesn't count. Anyway, Sally is wearing a floral top that would require Harry Houdini to undo it, because it ties and folds over in a whole variety of interesting ways, I think. Cortez is from Costa Rica originally, but now she lives in Atlanta, where she does marketing for a plastic surgeon. Seriously, real jobs. I'm looking for, like, "nurse." Or "teacher." Or "administrative assistant." Marketing for a plastic surgeon? Anyway, she works in the show's title by saying she's "hoping to be married by America." I think you get a ten-dollar bonus for that. up is Darcey, who says that she's ambitious and goes after what she wants, and right now she wants a husband, so give her one, dammit, or we'll all pay. Okay, she doesn't say the "pay" part. Finally, we have Jennifer, in her Goldie Hawn floral dress, who says she's a medical sales rep (well...that's closer to a normal job, anyway) in Orlando. Hey, Orlando! If she doesn't make it, she can ride the spinning teacups with Smithy. He could curl up in her lap like a kitty. At the end of her speech, she claps for herself. Yay! Oh, yay, Jennifer!
The first question for all of them to answer is the first interesting question that's been asked so far. Matt's mom asks, "Why did your last relationship end?" Sally bristles at the question, but carefully says that she was ready to settle down and her boyfriend wasn't, in part because he was younger than she was. I wonder if he was a patient at the pediatric group. One minute, he came in for strep throat, and the ...ah, romance. Anyway, she says that they went their separate ways. The audience claps, because it's been so long since there was anything worth clapping for that they no longer remember what the role of clapping normally is, and they don't really remember what it is to feel joy anyway. Jennifer says that her last relationship ended because of "bad timing," but when she fleshes out the details, it boils down to "he didn't pay enough attention to me." Kelly says that her last relationship was over before it started, because the guy was starting a business and getting over another relationship, so they didn't even really date, I guess. Which kind of means it wouldn't qualify as her "last relationship," but I guess she doesn't want to tell Mom about the one before that. It probably ended when she ran the guy over with a truck. Incidentally, it would have been great if somebody had asked Denise L. this question. She would have said, "Well, my last relationship ended when I got a divorce." And then there would have been this pause, and she would have said, "Can you excuse me? That reminds me of something I forgot to do." And then she would have run off the stage.
Darcey says that she and her most recent boyfriend were in "two different places," and it sounds like the implication is that she was career-oriented and he was a giant loser, but it's kind of hard to tell. Maybe he was in the kitchen and she was in the bathroom. I would believe that could have been an insurmountable obstacle, because neither of them could have figured out how to get from one room to another without a map and a trail of breadcrumbs.
Cortez wraps things up by saying that her last relationship ended because it was long-distance, and the communication broke down. Well, that's not very salacious. Maybe communication broke down over porn. Yeah, porn!
Time for the Scandalous Secret. You know, it's so interesting that they actually ran a round of this involving Denise L. without managing to find out that she was already married. They, of course, went with topless photos of her instead, as you will recall. Hey, you can't argue with a classic. The secret this time, it turns out, is about Darcey. And what is this secret? Well, she doesn't believe in premarital sex and is "currently practicing abstinence." Some guy in the audience goes, "Woooo!" really loud. Apparently, he is also practicing abstinence. Either that, or he thinks chicks who are practicing abstinence are hot. Everyone applauds. I think it's fascinating that a woman can say she doesn't believe in premarital sex and people applaud her like she genetically engineered the stringless celery stalk, but a guy says that he didn't get his first kiss until college, and they recoil from him like he's a leper whose fingers are actually falling off as he speaks. Whatever.
Time for the peeps to make a cut. The first to go is Jennifer. Mom says that they think "Matthew would mow her down." Jennifer takes offense, and says in a twee, easily-mowed-down manner that she could mow Matthew down. No, dear. Go home and marry someone boring. Her witty (?) comeback inspires a bunch of guys in the audience to "hoo hoo hoo" like they're on the old Arsenio Hall show. Wow. You'd think all the guys who still do that would be long dead by now. Among other things, you'd think other people would have killed them.
Time for another round of questions. Kelly is asked about having been voted Class Clown in high school. Mom asks her whether she's looking for a guy who's "a good audience" or a guy who's "even funnier than [she is]." Mom is being dense, because the obvious correct answer is "both." Funny people make the best audiences for other funny people, because trying to amuse the dull is a truly soul-deflating exercise. Kelly says she thinks she's pretty funny, but would love to meet someone funnier. Hmm, she hasn't said anything funny yet. Time is running out, Laugh Riot Girl. "Anybody that can make me laugh steals my heart," she says unconvincingly. Meh. It's not that I'm not with her in spirit, but her delivery sucks.
Now Sarah asks Sally about a time when she was engaged to one guy and met another guy, for whom she broke her engagement. Sally (admirably, actually) does not apologize, simply saying that the person she met (on vacation in Florida) was really amazing and taught her all about herself, so she wouldn't change anything. Sally really is the only person who can claim to have tried other ways of starting relationships that are almost as unlikely to result in long-term success as what she's doing now.
Now Mike asks Cortez about the fact that her grandparents were in an arranged marriage, and asks how that affected her views about love and commitment. She starts out answering the question, talking about how her grandparents were together for fifty years, but she quickly shifts gears to a general speech about how relationships have ups and downs, and you have to find the magic and stay in love: "I'm totally for being arranged, or finding your true love on national TV." Well, those are the two best ways, I guess. Mike looks at her with a bland smile, like, "Matt could really use a hot girl like that, but...I wonder if he really meant it when he said, 'Dude, it's okay if she's dumb.'"
Matt's mom asks Darcey about the fact that she apparently quit dating to concentrate on work. Can she give up her workaholic ways to be a good wife to the Wonder Ears? Darcey says she can. She says it's a great feeling to accomplish great things during the day (which is, you'll recall, arranging store displays), but she's ready to commit to marriage. She says finding her soulmate is more important than her job. Ugh, she said "soulmate." Haven't we gotten that word banned from television yet?
Time for another Peeps Cut. Taking a dive this time is poor Darcey. The audience yelps in surprise. Man, isn't it always the virgin getting thrown into the volcano? Mom says that although it may seem like an unmotherly remark, Darcey is not "saucy" enough for Matt. I must admit that although it is an unmotherly remark, it is also true that Darcey is low on sauce. She's very nearly sauceless, so I do see Mom's point. Darcey looks sad, but continues smiling bravely. (I'm betting there's a pageant history there.) "They know him best," she says. "I wish him luck." Isn't anybody going to say "I think these losers should take their meddling asses and go back to whatever hick town they came from" or something like that? All this graciousness in defeat is really troubling. Matt's peeps cheer as Darcey exits the stage. Bye, Darcey! Off with you, skank!
Now, as Sean explains, we will send the peeps off with the remaining candidates to the interrogation room. Where that dentist from Alias will be waiting with his two-step epoxy. Or something. You know, it now occurs to me that Sean looks a little like a hard-boiled egg with a little face painted on it. That forehead is impressive. Announcer-Man tells us that after the commercial break, Jill's three remaining suitors will return to hear whether they've made the final Peep Cut.
Back from commercial, Egghead tells us that nothing has happened while we were gone -- they've still got Jennifer locked away, and the peeps were off grilling the guys. We see a couple of brief flashes of interrogation. Xavier is asked, "How would you handle being married to a woman who likes to call the shots?" "That's a very een-teresting question," he says, "I've never experienced that before, to be honest, because it's kind of natural that I call zee shots." Ew. Who knew you couldn't trust a French clothing importer in a pinstripe suit to have up-to-date views of female equality? Damn. Stephcrest makes a face, but I'm not sure he's not just holding in a belch. We also see Scott choke on a question about how long would be too long for Jill's mom to come visit. Ha! That question was a little funny. Scott doesn't even answer it.
Okay, we're back to the Stage of Nonevents. Joshua, Xavier, and Scott are all standing on the Peeps' Picking Pedestals. They've all changed their clothes. No, I don't know why. First, Sean will tell us what the peeps said about each of the guys. They thought Scott was "charismatic," which surprises me, considering that I was wondering if he was even conscious. On the debit side, they found him "too reserved for Jennifer." Yeah, that's the "barely conscious" thing I was noticing. They just put it a different way, I suppose. Xavier, they found to be "well-traveled" and "close to [his] family." I guess they can't very well say that he's just a hot and steamy cup of French onion soup, because it's all about substance. Substance! Anyway, they are concerned, however, that he's too "flirty" and "suave." Oh, there's no such thing as too flirty and suave. Jennifer has the worst peeps ever. In a truly bizarre twist, however, Egghead now says that they found Joshua to be a "hottie." Wait a minute, Joshua was a hottie? More than Xavier? Hell with that, man. That's what they get for leaving the determinations of hottie-ness to Stephcrest. They also think Joshua is "ambitious" and "motivated." On the other hand, he's young and lacks life experience.
So what did the peeps do? They kept Xavier, of course, because if they didn't, Jennifer would eventually see the show and never speak to them again. And every Thanksgiving, it would be, "Oh, thanks, Mom, for the salad. Oh, is this French dressing? I sure do like French things. I sure would be sad if someone kept me from getting something French that I really, really wanted." So they kept him. Sean drags out the final announcement as long as he can. The other guy who will be there is...Scott. Joshua, you're going home. Asked for his response, Joshua gives a robot-like response that he's sure they know Jennifer the best, but he's "disappointed that [his] journey won't continue." Man, who does he remind me of? This is so irritating. He says he'll pick up his journey back in New York City. Bye, Joshua! Hope you have those four kids! Because until you do, you have no future!
Egghead reminds us that it is time for us to vote, and now we have to hear Jennifer tell us what she wants out of this whole miserable exercise. Jennifer gives us an overly cheerleader-y speech from the isolation booth, in which she says that she wants an awesome guy who's all nice and funny and stuff. She wants a guy who's "super-social" and will hang out in the kitchen with her. Ideally, she'd like a guy who loves college football. "I'm counting on you, America, don't let me down!" she says, pointing both index fingers at us. Like everyone who says anything while pointing both index fingers, she needs to shut up immediately. Back on the Stage of Nonevents, Egghead now invites the two remaining guys to beg and plead for votes. Xavier remarks that he thinks it's amazing that he and Jennifer both like their family and friends, because that means they're a match made in heaven. Hee. He also says that they both like to cook. It's meant to be! "Daaaahl my num-behr, and choose me," he says. Wow, he would make a great guy to work the phones for an escort service.
Oh, poor Scott. Scott's like, "Look, I know I'm no French clothing importer, and I know I look kind of like a dweeb up here in my crewneck sweater standing to Mr. Blue-shirt-with-white-collar-and-cuffs ex-underwear-model there, but please, consider voting for me." Or that's what he's thinking. What he actually says is that he likes to hang out in the kitchen, and he does like college football, so he thinks it's a good match. In an especially weird remark, he says, "You may not have gotten to know me very well in the last few minutes, but I know me very well, and I'd like my daughter to marry somebody like me." Wow, thanks for the Freudian-Gordian knot.
Egghead tells us that it's time for us to make our choice. Oh, I'm really excited about making my choice! Oh, wait, that's not me. I'm sorry, I was thinking of someone else.
Back from commercials, and time for Matt's peeps to make their last cut. They've been hanging out in the interrogation room as well. We see Kelly asked why her file says she's "hard to get to know," and she says she's not. Great answer, nitwit. They also ask her about a notation that she has trouble admitting when she's wrong. She says she wasn't aware that was going to come up. In another clip, Matt's mom asks Cortez how she feels about living with someone before she's married. Cortez says that would be all right, as long as you were engaged. She is seriously the blandest girl I have ever seen. She just has no discernible personality whatsoever, positive or negative. Back on the stage, it's time for the big cut. But first, what did the peeps think of these ladies? They thought Cortez was gorgeous and sweet -- maybe too sweet. They think maybe she couldn't stand up to Matt. I'm sorry, have they actually seen Matt? Matt looks like a less threatening Daniel Stern, for God's sake. As for Sally, they like that she claims to know what she wants, but they find her "flighty." Kelly covers her ears when Sean is about to tell what they thought about her, because she's so funny! Ha ha! As it turns out, the peeps have pronounced her "just like Matt," and say that she and Matt would be "great buddies," but he needs something else in a wife. That's kind of a crappy thing to say, Matt's peeps.
Considering that asshole remark, it is no surprise that after dragging it out incessantly, Egghead announces that Cortez and Sally will be around, and Kelly will be gone. I am not happy with Matt's peeps. Asked for her reaction, Kelly gives a big raspberry and a thumbs-down. And then she sort of raises her arms triumphantly as the audience applauds. Okay, that was a little bit funny. She leaves, because as the only woman on this show I have come close to not hating, she of course has to go. Away with you, non-hateable woman!
Now we have to listen to Matt's isolation-booth plea. He offers quite an impressive load of blather about how he wants people to look beyond the surface, and blah blah blah, and how we should all take what we learned from the interaction between the peeps and the chicks (hey, I love jokes that write themselves!) and use it to decide whom he should marry.
Back on stage, Egghead tells us that it's time for Sally and Cortez to make their pleas. Sally is up first. She thanks America for getting to know her "on a very personal level," and she wants us to vote for her so that she can get to know Matt. I certainly feel I've had an excellent chance to get to know Sally. I know I trust her -- how about you? As for Cortez, she opens with "America, this is big, and I need your help." She says that she's looking for a guy to bring out her hopeless romantic yak yak yakkety-yak. Just like Xavier/Scott, this is coming down to Cortez the hottie versus Sally the closer-to-appropriate choice. It will be an interesting study in human psychology to see how America votes in both cases. Except for the part where it totally won't be interesting.
Egghead wants us to grab a pen. Come on, people, grab a pen! You heard the man! On Monday, they'll all get engaged through little holes in the wall! Couldn't you just die? Incidentally, I am not actually able to vote, because my broadcast of was delayed by high-school hockey and this didn't air until the middle of the night. How unfair that I am deprived of my opportunity to participate in the democratic process. Every vote counts!
Egghead gives the numbers yet again, and then he explains the whole premise again. And then they give the promo information about where the show is going from here, because they want you to think it's going to start sucking less any minute now. And then they show the door with the hole for your engagement ring hand to fit through. And then finally, this episode is mercifully over.
To sum up? It's like dentistry without anesthetic.