Miami is beautiful, and aren't skate parks cool? Sarah skates happily along the beach, doing jumps, making friends, and enjoying herself. "I dig movement. I dig motion. I like trying new things." More shots of people skating and doing jumps on ramps follow. Now, meet Jason and Louis, good people that run a skate shop. In a sit-down, Sarah explains, "I don't care about Lamborghinis and getting taken out to dinner. I used to, but I don't anymore." So, Sarah has evolved past worshipping fancy sports cars -- great. If only a nation of forty-ish men could follow suit. Now a bunch of skater boys (to me, eye candy in baggy jeans and hoodies) troop through the house with Sarah, lugging sheets of wood and tools. They build a skate ramp by the pool, in the windy night. Inside, Melissa and (Hail!) Cesar roll their eyes and express disgust at all the activity. In a sit-down, Melissa explains that Sarah has been working her nerves and has been "bringing a gabillion people over and not keeping an eye on them." I hate made-up numbers so fucking much. Just say "lots" or something. A character in Candace Bushnell's new book does that habitually, and it makes you hate the character. So Melissa? Step off the gabillion thing. Then Melissa complains about the ramp-building, which she claims was done with "stolen wood from the street." Ooh, outlaw wood liberators. Ramp-building renegades. What ribald scoff-law-er-ry. Melissa complains some more about how Sarah "didn't ask permission" and I gag. Mom? Is that you? I hear your voice, but you're not there! Granted, it is totally nighttime as Sarah and her tasty skater crew are banging and power-tooling away at the ramp-to-be, and Melissa doesn't forget to point out that they have neighbors. Neighbors who were no doubt paid to stay the hell away from the MTV "project" going on 24-7 for a few months. The neighbors probably though MTV was building a set for a spring-break stripping game show or something. Sarah gets huffy in a sit-down (not for the last time this episode), and says, "Just because I'm using tools, and a hammer, and my BRAIN doesn't mean I have to ask permission." Rebel ramp builder! She kisses no one's ass.
Another beautiful day in Miami. Cynthia sits outside, the wind whipping her hair as she talks about missing home: "I miss the brothers hanging out on the corner, the loud cars. It used to agitate me, now I'd love to see it." Dude, I know the feeling. I have such a love/hate relationship with Philly. But this friggin' dump is home to me, and everywhere I go just reminds me of that. Oh my god, am I going to die here? I have to get out! Anyway, some early morning, stormy rain clouds come, and -- boom boom -- thunder and lightning. Melissa and Cynthia lie in their beds, talking. Cynthia slowly tells a makeup-less Melissa about her losses in life: both her father and sister died in the same year, her father of lung cancer and her sister of hepatitis, contracted through a blood transfusion. Shit! Pretty heavy stuff. Cynthia says she hasn't been back to the cemetery since they died. "It's really hard to see. I can't do it." She wipes her eyes and says, "You really need to appreciate the people when they're here." This is so sad. Hold on, I have to go call my mom.
Okay, we're back. Now, completely ignoring the important stuff Cynthia just shared, Melissa totally backs up Flora on a fight about dirty dishes. It took me a long time to learn this, but I'll share a secret with you: if the dishes are driving you nuts, WASH THEM. Writing notes and getting all bent out of shape doesn't do shit. So Flora and Melissa collaborate on a nasty note as Sarah tries to convince them that it's futile. "I have too many things to worry about besides dishes." WORD. Life is not about being a dish cop; why can't these stupid Real World people ever realize that? Season after season, it's the same old bullshit. Flora and Melissa argue with Sarah (even though they're Dan's dishes in the sink), the patented Bunim-Murray Tense Guitars play, and we go to commercial.
Cynthia and Melissa are chilling on the couch. Cynthia shares, "I'm a minority everywhere I go. If I tried to take everyone to a ghetto-ass party, they wouldn't go. They don't want to be a minority!" Oh man, huge word to that. People are so scared of the unknown. And of black people. And also of poor people. Its not catching, rich folks! Swear to god. Melissa, a princess if I ever saw one, edges herself ever-so-slightly away at the mention of a "ghetto-ass party" and murmurs, "That's true, I never thought of it...." Yeah you did. Cough cough, "stolen wood"? Yeah you did.
Some Old Tyme Vaudeville music plays as three little kids (we never learn their names) rollerblade up to the house, looking for Sarah. Flora lets them in, even though Sarah isn't there. Poolside hijinks ensue as Flora sits stonily by, smoking. She starts getting grouchier and, since it's chilly and windy out, has them come play in the house. The camera follows three active sets of bare feet as they roam all over the house. Flora, Melissa, and Cynthia just lie collapsed on couches, looking like nervous bundles wrapped in blankets. The kids go a little wild, doing backflips and going to town on the huge selection of games in the house. Flora takes time out from her phone call (Louis or Mitchell, I wonder?) to say to one kid, "You're good until I smack you." Though I have no idea what that means, the kid nods as if he understands. , we get a montage of Flora smacking the kids gleefully, saying "Bad, bad!" and grinning like a jack-o-lantern. One kid goes up to Cynthia and notes there's a "booger in [her] nose." Cynthia warns him to "back up, boo." Melissa is like, yeah, back up, she's from the ghetto, don't you know! Finally, Flora kicks them out. She should have NEVER LET THEM IN, but oh well. Three boys under age ten? You'd have to pay me to baby-sit, seriously. They skate around outside, making faces at the camera people through the glass. One kid bangs his head and pitches the horns to the camera, which goes very well with the Tense Guitars.
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Cut to Flora and Melissa leaving a "stern letter" to Sarah. Flora calls the kids "little rodents." "That isn't how you spell 'allowed,'" Melissa helpfully points out. The three roomie girls head out to eat, leaving the note taped on the door so the kids can skate right up and read it. While they're in close range, Flora grabs one and half-playfully, half-seriously throttles him, shaking him back and forth while saying, "Do you understand you're banned from this house?" The kid rolls his eyes and doesn't say anything. How fucked up is this? Flora is being a total bully. They head out to eat. The kids stick around.
Sarah comes home, tears up the note, and invites the kids in to play. "Those guys just don't understand children. Flora is intolerant." WORD. Footage of the kids happily skating on the ramp and looking through a telescope follows.
Flora calls home from the restaurant. How fucking Type A. And she wastes all that anal energy bartending and sleeping around. "I don't want those kids in the house PERIOD." What a Bossy Bessy. Fuck off, Flora! That's my new mantra. Sarah says Flora should have just told the kids to come back later. WORD. Flora put herself out when she shouldn't have, and now she's all upset because the kids were ACTING LIKE KIDS. PLAYING. MESSING AROUND. FOR GOD'S SAKE. Flora says the kids are "thieves" and "nasty" and wants Sarah to "respect what [she's] asking." Sure, Flora, right after you start respecting other human beings. You first.
Enter Jason and Louis, the skate-shop guys, who "take responsibility for the kids," according to Sarah. What, are they like their guardians? I am so confused. The kids get hugs. Dan comes in and asks playfully, "Who are you? Do you know this is my house?" One kid does that fake-out handshake/you're-too-slow thing, and Dan goes, "Ooh! I got the bow-wow!" What in hell is the bow-wow? Dan and Arnie settle down at the table and start playing with chopsticks.
Later, just as the kids are done painting the ramp and are carrying it out, the three roommate girls come back from dinner. Melissa turns and excitedly whispers to Cynthia, "Look at what's happening in our house!" Flora takes a pause, sighs, rolls her eyes exhaustedly, and enters the house. I invoke my mantra. Get ready, the Tense Guitar Riffs are playing.
Flora comes in like a hurricane: "Sarah! I need to talk to you RIGHT NOW. I want them OUT! WE want them out! You are disrespecting me." Um, the kids are like right there, superbitch. Playing with two adults and with chopsticks. Care to calm down? Moments like these are why I'm glad I have a mantra. Sarah makes a bad judgement call as she asks Flora to tell the kids herself that she wants them out. Um, hello, bad-memories-to-be? Meet Flora. Flora charges over and bellows, "OUT, OUT OF MY HOUSE." Arnie and Dan look up like, "Huh? Why?" "NO!" Sarah says, "We aren't communicating!" Duh. Flora shrieks, "I LEFT you a NOTE!" Melissa relays via a sit-down that "Flora's outburst was not just about that day...there was other, built-up stuff." So scar a few kids as you let out your pent-up rage? Why not? No one cares about a few kids. Flora stomps off muttering, "Don't even talk to me right now," and Sarah says, "Bow-wow." Not smart. Flora flips out some more: "Bow-wow your fucking ass -- respect your roommates! You're twenty-five, not five! Out! OUT!" Sarah takes the kids into the front yard, yelling, "They're kids from the ghetto who wanted to see a fucking mansion. You're treating these kids they way they've been treated their entire lives!" That is depressing. But Sarah -- savior complex, much?
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Sarah sits outside with the shell-shocked kids. "Please don't think we're all like that. I'm not like that." What "we"? Twentysomethings on MTV? White people? What? People is people, people.
Back inside, Cynthia asks from her perch on the couch, "Why does she let you talk to her like that?" Good question, and I like the subtext: Cyn would never let Flora talk to her like that. Flora, on a sick roll, yells, "Because she knows I'm right. I want to punch her." I loathe Flora. Mantra! Cyn says, "You just went totally off on her. You threatened her! I would NEVER..." Flora, somehow fueled by this outspoken rationality, says, "I'm gonna kick her ass! Those kids aren't even her friends! She wants to bring every homeless person she meets here!" Okay, WTF? Flora's mad because Sarah cares about kids and the less fortunate? I guess if she were screwing her boss, or extending herself for non-altruistic reasons, Flora could admire that. Flora? I hate you. Sarah, still sitting outside with the kids and one of the skate-shop guys, says, "I don't respect her because of the way she treats my friends, because of the way she treats guys. I won't stand for that." The little kids look confused. Dude, they're like ten! How could they begin to understand the whoring mess that is Flora? Leave them out of it. Take them to get ice cream or something. A sad flute plays. Oh boy. In a sit-down, Sarah relays, "My feelings are hurt." Well, Sarah, this isn't exactly all about you. The kids? Remember?
Cynthia has a business lunch with Landon. She's nervous. No one in her family has ever owned anything, let alone a business. Landon, co-opting your slang since 1995, asks, "Are they freaking?" Cyn says they are "tripping." Which is what all the cool kids said in 1995, or "back in the day." More blah blah blah I-feel-that-I'll-lose-if-I-don't-try-cakes. No one cares.
Now we're back in the kitchen for a Ramp Fight, which means the bitchier roomies try to gang up on Sarah, and fail. Melissa gets all high and mighty, saying, "Don't tell people where we live, don't bring people you just met over to the house, don't build ramps at twelve in the morning." Nag, nag, nag! God, mom! You never let me do ANYTHING! Sarah tries to argue that they were building the ramp at ten at night, not twelve, but all of those hairs are already split. In a sit-down, Melissa, mom from hell, says, "Sarah thinks the way she lives her life is the best way to live it. She doesn't care if she lives with six other people." Well, GOOD FOR HER! What do you want people to do, tiptoe around and ask your permission every time they want to do something? FUCK THAT! Having consideration for other people is one thing; having to defer to their wishes because they're skeeved out by a certain TYPE of activity or person is quite another. Didn't (Hail!) Cesar bring a bunch of his drunken homies over late at night? Glass house, meet stones. Melissa (god, won't she EVER shut up?) elaborates, "This is Miami, not Osh Kosh Wisconsin." Thank you, amateur cartographer. Sarah, who's keeping her cool better than I am, says, "Look, I'm not going out of my way to piss you guys off, I'm just gonna be me, like I've always been." A chorus of voices meets her, saying, "You can't!" Yes she can! She can and she will! Sarah says, "Oh god," and wipes her eyes tiredly. In a sit-down, she says she feels "sorry for them. They're so narrow-minded." Yeah, and they suck too.
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