Big shout-outs to all my Philly peeps keeping it real on the boards, to Sarah for the dog-related Binaca tip (it WORKS! Thank you!) and to Wing and Sars for ruling. Y'all rock.
Waves crash onto the beautiful Miami beaches. A surfer wipes out. Some ersatz Nine Inch Nails plays as Joe lolls around on his bed. His pager goes off and he drags himself to the phone to call Ick. He explains in Brooklynese, "Your numba was on my paga." Ick sounds icky as she says, "I didn't call you." Nice way to talk to your boyfriend, honey. Joe starts asking the tough questions: "Nic, what are you pulling? I haven't heard from you in a week?" Ick cruelly asks, "Are you mad?" If you mean mad as in crazy, then yes, he's dating you, isn't he? Joe gets out, "It hurts." It must hurt having a monster for a girlfriend -- even worse, a monster that ignores you.
Cyn helpfully explains to the camera that Joe is "messed up in the head right now," which is mighty generous of her. I'd say he's messed up 24-7, what with dating a giant monster with man-hands and failing so miserably at this business venture, but whatever. Back on the phone, Joe tries to get a word in edgewise as Ick continues her self-fulfilling-prophecy venture, ensuring that Joe will cheat by saying, "Don't worry about me...just do whatever you have to do." Or, do whomever you have to do. Joe looks pained but you know that inside his pint-sized body he's relieved to be off the hook. The cheating will now begin!
Poolside hijinks ensue -- a cannonball here, some skinny-Jacuzzi-dipping there. Sarah takes Joe's "shorts" and flings them across the patio area. The camera, in what may be the neatest spontaneous shot ever on the Real World, follows the wet, air-borne "shorts" as they fly in a perfect arc and land wetly -- smack! -- far from the Jacuzzi. Teasing of the now naked-but-blurred Joe ensues. "Put your drawers on, dude!" Yes, please do. Nearby, Cynthia giggles and peeks between her fingers at the blurry spots. Oh, eww. Then we get what seems to be a completely unrelated voice-over from Joe saying that he and Ick have "trust issues," and that she "knows about [his] history with the opposite sex." I hope the poolside hijinks haven't left too big a scar. Then we're back on the Phone Call of Pain. "Nic, you were with someone else last week, obviously." Ick retorts with "You're just gonna get mad if I tell you!" Joe insists he's "hanging in" with their relationship, and Ick says she thinks otherwise. Joe tells Ick to "just take some time off," and Ick says "Joe, shut up." Joe exhales woundedly. If that doesn't drive him right into the arms of another woman, I don't know what will.
Flora gets in her hooker-mobile...I mean, "her Jeep." It won't start. She screams. Back inside the house (nice edit, B-M), she stomps around her room and screams some more. "Aahh! NO!" The hell? She needs to go to the store, NOW. Melissa explains for us that Flora "always has a problem; that's her way of getting attention." Flora hollers for Louis and demands that he lend her his car. He says no! Wow! Louis has some spine working for him! So Flora pulls on her rollerblades and stomps, er, rolls off. Louis and Melissa continue lolling on couches. As we get some shots of Flora skating off to the store, Cynthia helpfully explains that "Flora is a brat. She throws temper tantrums, she whines, she complains. She's like a child when she doesn't get her way." Oh, Bumin-Murray, why don't you just s-p-e-l-l it the h-e-l-l out for us?
Louis, still lounging, asks Melissa, "Think [Flora will] get pissed if I leave now?" Melis replies in Spanish (but it's subtitled!), "Please don't leave, or I'll be stuck with her for the rest of the night." The two of them talk about Cuba. Louis is from La Villa, and Melissa's dad is from Santa Pietro. I'd like to go to Cuba one day and see what it's like. While they're talking, Flora comes home and sullenly cleans the pool, like, "Oh, my other boyfriend is having a conversation with a woman who isn't me, waah!" Christ. Finally, after Flora has cleaned the pool within an inch of its life, Louis comes out and is like, "That pool looks really clean," which is dysfunctional-relationship-speak for, "Get in here, you ridiculous ho-bag." Flora flounces in and Melissa asks whether she pissed her off in any way. Flora lies and says no, causing her cut-offs to burst into flames. We see the moon in the sky -- those tense guitar riffs play -- and we're out.
Some annoying fucking clubby music plays. We're at a fashion show. Joe is craning his tiny neck looking at the fashion models. None of them look like monsters - whew! We're in an Ick-free zone. In a voice-over, Joe says he's "throwing temptation in [his] face." Great, good. Now we're at a bar where the bartenders are throwing flaming bottles around. Look, it's Tom Cruise! Not. Joe kisses and strokes the thigh of some blonde lady named Leah. "Leah is a friend," he says. He had better mean "naked friend." Because I have eyes in my head, and I know what I see. Stop it, eyes! we learn that Leah knows about Ick and "doesn't care." Wonderful. We see shots of Joe and Leah holding hands and walking down a street where she confesses, "I am attracted to you, Joe." Explain WHY, please? Sars really needs to know. Joe says he's "gotta watch [his] step." Yeah, watch out, or you'll step right into bed with Leah -- you'd hate to do that.
Back at the house, Joe wonders rhetorically why "everyone think[s] [he's] screwing around." Is it because you ARE? Flora says, "It's healthy." Having a sex drive is healthy, yes, but screwing everyone in front of you just 'cause? Not so healthy. Flora then admits that she's "the last one to say bad, bad, bad, Joe." 'Cause everyone knows, hos don't point fingers. They can't, 'cause of the syphilis. Makes the fingers stiff. Kidding. Joe and Flora segue into a sick-making discussion about same-sex vs. opposite-sex friends. Joe's always had same-sex homies, while Flora digs hanging out with opposite-sexed peeps. In a sit-down, Flora (who looks gnarly in some stank overalls and with her hair pulled back so tightly she looks bald) says, "I feel I have more to talk about with guys. I don't trust girls." Ugh. I really do not understand this phenomenon of women saying they can't be friends with other women, or that they don't like/trust/understand women. I think it has to do with self-loathing. Flora means she doesn't trust herself, or something. I just do not get it. Then to Joe, she says, "I don't even consider Melissa to be my friend. I think of her as my roommate. She called me a whore and a slut and said she'd never introduce me to her mother. Until she apologizes, she's on my shit-list." Okay, B-M could have shown us this so-called conversation, but let's just take this at Flora's word. Don't forget the grain of salt.
A windsurfer windsurfs by. Look, look, a Jet Ski! It's morning in Miami. Flora opens her eyes and groans. Sarah, in the bed, asks what the matter is. "My whole leg is swollen. Look!" Be grateful you can't; it's GROSS! Flora's got the syphilis in her toe! Gak! Her toe looks like raw beef. She thought a mosquito bit her, but oh nooo. This stuff is nasty. In an interview Flora mock-whispers to the camera that the infection has "spread into the groin area." Oh, GROSS! Save me! She calls Louis, who must have a sense of humor because he puts her on speakerphone before asking, "What can I help you with?" Honey, she's beyond your help. Flora blabs incoherently, "Did you get my message that I'm gonna die?" "Not until this morning." Snarf. Louis has great coping mechanisms. In an interview, Louis explains how "Flora cries wolf, elephant, lions, tigers and bears to get attention." Sing it, honey. Then he tells her to (duh!) call the poison-control center like four times until Flora says she's got to call the poison-control center now. When she hangs up, she whines, "I haaaate hiiiim!" After a neat edit in which the call to the poison-control center falls to the cutting room floor, Flora calls Poor Louis back. "They said I have to go to the hospital. Feel like going with me?" Oh, boy. Louis claims he has some errands to run and bails out. Godspeed, you Cuban prince. Flora sits around the kitchen and cries a river until the current sweeps Melissa up and she suggests that they go to the hospital where Cesar works. In an aside, Melissa says, "The drama queen was in effect," and to demonstrate, Flora hobbles off spewing her enormous debt of gratitude in between moans and sharp intakes of breath.
Some ratty, circa-1995 Alice in Chains starts up ("Where's the medication I need?") as Melissa walks to the hospital. Flora hobbles alongside. Flora's voice-over reveals to us the inner workings of her head: "Last week Melissa was my enemy, but I'm very, very forgiving." BA HA HA! We see a shot of Melis waiting as Flora checks in, and the voice-over continues, "She took care of me when Louis, who supposedly cares about me, didn't. All the bad stuff was forgotten." Melis chimes in with, "Since that day, Flora has been the best friend to me in that house." Some hospital hijinks ensue, including Flora's pathetic, ignored, Russian-inflected wails of, "I need a doctor. Any doctor. Nurse? Orderly? Janitor?" Melissa cringes and says, "Oh, god." I feel you, Melissa.
Get in your jammies, it's time for another stultifying business talk. Joe gets a clue and says, "We got fifty grand, this shouldn't be this hard." Cynthia gets salty and warns, "We got a lot of f*cking money man, let's not blow it!" Everyone watching at home screams, "WE! GET! IT! ALREADY!" Then they agree that they all like the fashion idea (still?) and Cynthia, for the first time, is happy and not frustrated. For the time being, at least.
Some dissonant techno music plays as Flora receives treatment for her infected toe. The doctor tells her that her toe is infected and needs treatment. Oh, god. The treatment is a shot of some kind. Flora takes her throne as the reigning drama queen, with Melissa carrying her crown on a pillow behind her. "A needle! I'm terrified of needles. Omigod omigod omigod, I'm gonna die." Scream, squeal, etc. The nurse, sadly, does not have to use force as she administers the shot. Dang. Melissa assumes hand-holding duty admirably and manages to roll her eyes at the same time. In an interview, Melis says that Flora "milked it." Oh, sweet god. Flora hobbles on crutches to a wheelchair, then as Melissa drives her home, actually says, "I don't know why they put me on crutches. They make me seem like I'm a freaking cripple." Oh sweet GOD. Melissa could be driving a short bus, Flora is so retarded. ["Driving her straight to Vegas!" -- Niki]
It's nighttime in the house. Some horribly dated Soundgarden plays ("Black hole sun! Won't ya come!") as Leah phones Joe and asks him to come over and see her. Ahem. Cynthia remarks dryly, "You know anything after eleven ain't nothing but a booty call." Hee! Joe sticks out his tongue at her (doesn't he get enough exercise for it already?) and runs out the door. Hornball.
Lights up at a cheesy nightclub with pumpy dance music. The lyrics scream, "Come 'n' get it" as Joe muses via voice-over, "What is cheating? Cheating is when you actually love another person; it's not just physical contact." Well, I refuse even to walk to my dictionary to look it up for this, but I would venture to guess that cheating is when you're in a committed relationship with someone and yet still see other people. Yes? Making out in nightclubs with other ladies when you have a giantess at home? Would be cheating, Joe. Put that in your book, maybe. The dancing and canoodling with Leah becomes more heated. Joe, sadly, continues his voice-over: "I probably encourage women to peruse me in a way that is not conducive to a relationship with me and Nic." REALLY? That should be Joe's fucking Zen koan that he repeats over and over until he FINALLY UNDERSTANDS IT.
Out on the street, Leah and Joe make out, pressed up against a parking meter. That is such a cheesy rip-off of The Last Seduction. Joe is almost the same size as the parking meter! Bwa! They come up for air long enough to notice the cameras and walk on down the street, weaving slightly, with Joe treading on the curb and Leah remaining in the gutter. They're just about the same height that way.
Joe comes in late and is interrogated by Melissa and Cynthia for being a big cheater slut. Joe says he "just doesn't know if [he] wants to be with Nic." Cyn says, "It's your woman, so it's your problem." Whatever.
In still more somnambulistic business-related footage, the Miami Clown Machine (tm sgib) goes to an apparel convention. Snoozers! But you knew that. They look at shirt-sewing machines, and button doo-hickeys, and I cannot believe how stupid this crew is. Did they ever think of going to, oh, say, a STORE, and asking the owners how they ran things? Instead of looking at machines that must make replaceable sweatshop workers tremble in their tiny, child-sized shoes? After thirty minutes, the roomies want to leave. Mike says they got ahead of themselves and that the trade show was "not what they needed." These guys don't even know what they need. They don't even know what they don't know. Cynthia flips back from happy to frustrated and walks around sadly, saying via voice-over, "I need to get paid. I don't like working for free." Tell it to the sweatshop workers, honey. Sarah arrives at the practical conclusion yet again, saying, "We're not going to be millionaires. We're just regular people that are starting a business." She means not starting a business.
Confessional. Flora and Melissa have that big hair and scary makeup thing working. Flora intones, "I've been bored." Melissa cracks, "This is what I look like when she gets bored." What a scary, scary relationship these two have. Now I'm sorry I closed that thread on the boards. They discuss Louis, who apparently had the nerve to dance with another woman at his own nightclub as Flora was tending bar. The noive of dat guy! "Mitchell would have taken me to the hospital," whines Flora. Melissa, run fast and far away from Flora. NOW.
Two scraggly, seen-better-days blondes enter the house and take it all in. Cynthia comes down the stairs in her yellow t-shirt dress (which on anyone else would be satan, but looks pretty cute on her) and eyeballs the blondes. "Ohhh, THIS is Leah. Joe, THIS is Leah." Joe smiles shame-facedly and administers a hug. In some kind of ridiculous country-boy dialect, Joe squeaks out, "I got gurrl trouble." That ain't all, boy. Yer gonna ketch a giant critter later on! He leads Leah and her equally haggard-looking friend through the house.
Joe, Leah, and Leah's sad, old friend sit around and watch TV. Joe has either the nerve or the lack of brains to say that Cynthia doesn't like Leah. "She thinks you're bad for me." Leah, no stranger to the witty rejoinder, retorts, "Like I care!" Ah, you speak such wisdom. Joe waxes on about his sexual exploits. My ears slowly bleed. "October 31st, 1993, is when it all turned...a girl treated me like a piece of meat." Mmm, meat. Leah's grizzled, rode-hard-and-put-away-wet friend says stupidly, "I'd think men want that!" Oh, lord. Joe actually says (and I'm sure he's not bragging), "It's happened to me so many times!" Leah and Horse-face both assume faces of shock, then collapse in gales of laughter. Well, I hope they laughed. I laughed.
week, Ick comes for a wittle itty bitty visit-poo!