So, this episode opens quite abruptly, and I have no idea what's going on, really. Dom is helping Tami and Jon with....oh. The showcase. The infamous "talent" showcase. Did we get any lead-in to this at all? I mean, Beth was trying to organize an acting workshop-type thing at one point, but that was ages ago, and this seems to be an entirely different event. At any rate, it appears that Jon, Tami, and Glenn decided they haven't ruptured nearly enough eardrums in the Los Angeles area yet, and have agreed to put on a talent show. If only they had a barn! Then this would be just like one of those old Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland/"Hey, kids! Let's put on a show!"/MGM musicals. Minus the people who can actually sing and/or dance, and without the short balding guy who somehow convinced Ava Gardner to marry him. Sadly, since the kids are without the services of any studio contract players, Dom has to act as the master of ceremonies. He's also helping with the planning, since he has a lot of contacts in the musical world. Dom, Jon, and Glenn all amble over to Kinko's and talk about color copies and posters and invitations for, like, twenty minutes, because there's nothing the kids today love more than a lengthy discussion of paper stock and laser printing. Finally, they get all their ducks in a row, and leave the Kinko's employees behind to roll their eyes in peace.
Glenn tells the camera that he's looking forward to the show, although he admits that he doesn't have any lyrics for half the songs on his play list. He shrugs and says that the audience will never know the difference. True, because they're all going to be covering their ears.
Jon explains that Dom is currently managing a local Los Angeles band called Stick Kitty, and they plan to perform in the showcase, too. I'm sure that decision -- not to mention Stick Kitty's selection of Dom as manager -- has nothing whatsoever to do with MTV's involvement with this event.
Later, Tami, Jon, Glenn, and Dom sit in the pool room and argue over which spot in the line-up Tami's band will occupy. She insists that they're headlining the show, that they can perform wherever they want to perform, and that they can also change their minds about their time slot as often as they want. She originally wanted her band to perform last, but now she wants to go earlier, she says, because she doesn't "want to sit through the rest of the party, listening to [Glenn's] band." Hee! Glenn takes slight offense to this, but Tami doesn't care. Jon comments that he finds it "ridiculous" that "[he's] the youngest one [there] and [he's] being the most reasonable." Tami just huffs at this, and irritably stomps upstairs.
Later, in an interview, Jon admits that he has "no idea where Tami is coming from." Personally, I don't know where any of this is coming from. The recent pool-room exchange wasn't even really an argument as much as it was just Tami being her usual demanding self. Guess Bunim and Murray are running out of footage, seeing as this is the penultimate episode of the Los Angeles season. They just ought to run the It Wasn't Not Funny Fight of 1993 on continuous loop; I don't think the ratings would suffer.
Glenn sits in a windowsill and complains about how stubborn Tami is. Again, this is news? Glenn could sit in that window and play the kazoo and I'd be more inclined to pay attention to the sound coming out of his mouth.
Dom feels confident that the showcase will go off without a hitch. He and Tami head over to the club they've rented for the event; they check out the sound system and kick the tires and find it all very much to their liking.
Tami tells the camera that there's no way she's going to pull her band out of the showcase because of some stupid time-slot argument. She's just being difficult, she says, because she doesn't like people bossing her ass around.
Aaron finally makes an appearance to tell us that, between Tami and her bandmates and Jon and Glenn, too many people have been invited to the showcase -- way more than the club can accommodate. Then he runs back to the frat house and buries his head in a giant vat of Jell-O shots, never to return.
Glenn admits that Tami and Dom have been arguing about the size of the guest list. Glenn didn't over-invite, because he has no friends and Perch has no fans.
Tami admits that she invited more people than the club can hold, all by herself. Wow, this is fascinating television. Invitations, guest-lists, locations; it's edge-of-your-seat drama!
Speaking of Tami's band, Jon tells the camera that no one has ever heard them perform, and the roommates have no idea what to expect. My bet? A series of medieval Madrigals, performed a cappella.
Glenn snips that if Tami's group sucks ass, he's going tell her. And he's going to love it!
We whoosh over to the dance studio where Tami's sassy girl group practices its moves. She explains that no one has seen Reality -- Realit-T? Ree-Al-It-Tee? Ree-Ality? I don't know -- perform because she didn't feel they were ready to shake their booty in public yet. As her bandmates waggle their respective butts in the background, Tami sighs that she's tired of the constant rehearsing, but she and the rest of the band have "put [their] all" into preparing for the showcase. In the dance studio, Tami stamps around and claps her hands and informs the rest of the group that she wants to "see asses wiggling!"
On the day of the showcase, Tami sits cross-legged in her bedroom and does what she calls "[her] chanting." She tells the camera that "chanting" gives her inner strength and keeps her strong for all the long hours of ass wiggling ahead of her.
Glenn and various unwashed members of Perch silkscreen pro-Perch shirts in the kitchen of the beachhouse, making yet another horrific mess, all in the name of poorly performed, atonal music.
Tami asks Dom whether ReAliTee's fans can come to the club, watch them perform, and then just leave. She thinks this plan will solve their little overcrowding problem. Dom just looks at her and wearily assents. While he's cursing himself for agreeing to run this project, Beth bounds downstairs and offers to help. No one gives her anything to do. Later, Dom tells the camera that Beth wants to perform a Shakespearean soliloquy in the showcase. Very impressively, he manages not to make a snide comment in reference to this idea.
Over at the club, people are setting up their instruments and running sound checks. This would be much more interesting if I cared.
Show time! For some reason, the editors think the best background music for this moment is "Jungle Fever." Yeah, I don't know what's up with that either. Anyway, people start pouring into the club. Dom hits on a chick at the bar before ambling up to the mic to kick out the jams.
Jon tells us that he's looking forward to performing, and he's only a little bit nervous.
Jon's up first. His roommates cheer for him as he walks onstage. And then he sings. How does one recap singing? Jon sings. There is singing. Singing happens. At any rate, the audience enjoys his performance, and all the roommates tell the camera that Jon is very talented and has a real stage presence, and if there's someone -- anyone -- in the audience who would possibly want to hire him for anything at any time, they ought to immediately contact the Bunim/Murray offices. Glenn muses that it's nice to hear Jon perform onstage, since he's used to just hearing him sing in the shower. I know my roommates used to feel the same way about me; they kept telling me that I ought to take my renditions of "...Baby, One More Time" and "I Want It That Way" and hit the road!
Tami compliments Jon backstage. She tells the camera that she's "a ball of nervous energy." Then some dude wearing a baseball cap walks over and tells Reaaaaalitee to "work it" out there on the stage.
Dom introduces Stick Kitty, the band he manages. People clap anemically. The lead singer -- a pale, shirtless guy with long greasy hair -- wails about hell getting hotter and wishing he was God, and putting his trust in, like, the land, or something. Whatever. Personally, I prefer my musical performances complete with hot dancing boys.
In an interview, Glenn tells us that the lead singer of Stick Kitty really "feels the music" and is "authentic about his performance." Because if Glenn is anything, he's an experienced and knowledgeable music critic.
Backstage, Tami's still nervous. Finally, Dom introduces "Reeeeeeeeeee-allll-ittttty!" The girls hustle out onto the makeshift stage and do their thing. They're not completely terrible -- sort of a poor man's En Vogue, complete with extremely complex but inadequately executed dance moves. Tami tells us that she was happy not to embarrass herself, and then undoes all that hard work: "When I say 'Reality,' you say 'check'! Reality!" she shouts. "Check!" the audience mutters. This "Reality!" "Check!" call and response thing continues for several minutes, humiliating us all. Ree-Alit-Tee then moves into a more fast-paced number, whipping off their skirts to reveal tight black hot pants. The crowd, always responsive to short shorts, stands up and starts clapping. Tami eventually jumps off the stage and starts working the crowd.
Jon admits that the skirt-ripping action sort of threw him off-guard. "Is this a G-rated showcase, or what's going on?" he wonders.
After her performance, Tami greets well-wishers backstage. She's wearing a robe and accepting flowers, like Julie Andrews on the opening night of My Fair Lady.
And finally, it's time for Perch. And you know what that means? Fast-forwarding. But I don't hit the button until after Glenn snidely comments that he didn't know he was "allowed to lip-synch." Trust me, Glenn: all over America, people fervently wish you would lip-synch. To something other than Perch. I gather that Tami and Ree-Allll-E-T weren't singing live. Tami insists that they weren't doing some kind of Milli Vanilli type thing: they were lip-syncing to their own recording. "We can sing," she insists. Glenn snips that if Tami's "going to throw stones, she better get ready to accept some back." Then he admits that he's not the greatest vocalist in the world, but at least he "has charisma." That is a lie. Perch performs, and I scramble for the remote.
Dom says Glenn "had a blast" performing "He's very Jim Morrison-esque, wouldn't you agree?" he asks. I hope that was sarcasm.
Blee blee blah, everyone had a great time performing together, they say. Dom feels "accomplished," Jon "had a great time," Glenn "had fun," and Tami? She's just glad she managed not to strangle Glenn. I don't know if that's really cause for celebration.