Forsooth, ye knaves! The other day, someone told me I was as good a writer as Shakespear! How kick-ass is THAT? Oh, wait...who the hell is "Shakespear?"
We open this week inside of the firehouse, where Bunim-Murray sanctioned "Other" and drag queen extraordinaire Adam/Eve counsels his giddy audience of Montana and Genesis on make-up tips for the aesthetically uninitiated. Montana complains, "I don't know how to do eyeshadow," and Adam indicates the area just above his eyes and observes, "You have a gorgeous ridge, and that's all you need to know." Because he is a drag queen and consequently every word he speaks is intended to be played for high camp, Montana begins to laugh uproariously, right there in his face, until Adam feels the need to drop his voice a few octaves and speak the sentence again, very self-consciously: "Your ridge is gorgeous." We cut to a confessional, where Montana lets us know, "I like her drag queen friend, Adam, who is Adam by day and Eve by night." Wow, Cliff's Notes Boston, thank you for telling me that. Again. S/he (Adam/Eve) has nailed down more face time than several members of the house combined. Informing me exactly who s/he is again would be akin to Montana informing us, "My name is Montana and my Bangs of Steel can be strategically employed to smite my enemies like some latter day Bond weapon for the millenium, and have I mentioned that my name is Montana?" Look, Red, I'm sure that getting complimented on your looks -- by a real live boy, no less -- makes you ten different kinds of giddy and garrulous, but consider that the speaker of that sentence lives his life in a culture where the word "gorgeous" is used with the regularity and fluidity of how the Smurfs tossed around the word "smurf" in their everyday conversations. Your ridge is gorgeous. The new Liza album is gorgeous. Elton singing at Diana's funeral, Madonna having another child and at least three out of every five members of 'N Sync? You got it. "Gorgeous." So if by "gorgeous," Adam means that her ridge is "unexpectedly visible, unlike the rest of the upper third of her shelf-of-hair-concealed entire face," he makes a valid point, but alas one of very little import. Now calm down, Montana, cut yourself a nice big piece of gorgeousberry pie, and think real hard about the parts of your face this poor man didn't bother to deem gorgeous, smurfy, or anything in between. Lemme give you a hint: BANGS.
Genesis tells us that she and Adam get along real well and have lots and lots of things to do together, such as being subtly maligned by the rest of her psuedo-liberal housemates whenever she's not around to defend herself for the crime of having a friend. Case in point: Genesis and Kameelah sit upstairs, and Genesis shows her roomie a picture of Adam as Eve in a spicy black number and a bright red wig. Kameelah's reaction to Genesis: "Ha ha ha. Oh, my gosh. Ha ha ha." Well, that's benign enough. Kameelah's reaction to us: "It just really strikes me as confusing that she likes drag queens, and she knows perfectly well that these images underneath it all are men. It just doesn't make sense to me." Back in Genesis's room, Kameelah makes sure to put way too fine a point on it in, finishing the topic up for now as she stares into the photo of a rather becoming Eve and loudly exclaims, "Oy vey!" Which I guess is a clear sign that Adam/Eve has so distorted the overall identity politics of the house that Kameelah has accidentally become a Jew.
After a raucously original time-passing montage of an exterior shot of a clock followed by numerous street scenes of Boston after dark (why not just make with the flying calendar pages and get all of the time-passing clichés out of the way at once?), we're right back inside of the firehouse right in the middle of -- ACK! I'M BLIND! It's Sean, who I believe I've already implored to just keep his clothes on every once in a while, standing in the middle of the living room bedecked only in boxer shorts of the American flag (burning the flag is against the law, and this travesty isn't punishable by death? Where IS the justice?) while his own, er, Union Jack is one thin layer of cotton away from us and God and everybody. And, if this supreme level of torture inflicted upon the unsuspecting television viewer weren't enough, Sean is actually rubbing lotion all over himself, while informing us in a voice-over, "My whole arms and chest were filled with just a whole bunch of red bumps. And I've never had hives before. It was, like, freakin' me out." Which is quite a coincidence, because I'd never had hives before I sat through this scene, either. ["And you're also freakin' out! At last, you and Sean have something in common other than both being carbon-based life forms." -- Wing Chun] But now large welts have broken out all over my body as well, and I can't stop shaking. Naked bumpy Sean makes me cold. Oh, so very, very cold.
Elka and Kameelah, meanwhile, stand aside in the living room watching this frightful display with such comical looks of horror and disbelief that it makes this sequence appear as campy and staged as when the kids would find maggots in their burgers EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY WENT TO THE DAMN DINER on You Can't Do That on Television. Elka observes to Sean that if she were to break out in such a rash it would scare her, and we cut to her in a predictably aqua-centric confessional nearly vomiting out the sentiment, "His body. Ugh, I mean, his arms, his chest." Notice that at no time during that speech did she mention the actual rash, a pretty good indication that Elka could have delivered her horrified opinion of looking at Sean's half-naked grossness at any point during the run of this season, welty fun times or not. In which case, she forgot to sneeringly include, "Ugh, his love handles, his misappropriated body hair, his general lumpiness, and his too-small-for-his-chest-but-still-weirdly-ubiquitous nipples" to her list of Sean's chesty-area grievances. So I have taken the liberty of doing so myself. Thank goodness I showed up when I did then, eh? Kameelah calls it like she sees it, laughing when she truth-in-jests, "What if that's contagious, Sean? You'd have to leave the house. Ha ha. We'd send you back to Wisconsin." And then, to hilarious comic effect, actually, she tacks on the knife-twisting, "Remember in like, the fifth grade, when everyone said you had the cooties? Like, you have the cooties." I would like to briefly point out, if I may, the sad irony in Syrus being the self-proclaimed playa who brings home the TJ Maxximum of women of decidedly skanky repute, and yet it is scapegoat Sean who breaks out in the icky rash when Syrus is just way too slick to let any of that uncool bacteria gets its hooks into him, and Sean gets booted from the house. Sadly, no one in the Boston cast thinks to reference the numerous direct parallels of Syrus and Sean to the many personality characteristics they share with Gervase and Joel. Because, I guess, the latter couple hasn't really been invented yet.
And speaking of Kameelah (as Kameelah so very often does), we find her in her room preparing for a night out on the urban ice floe that is their Boston winter. She voice-overs, "It's kind of intimidating, because I'm starting to meet men that are on my list. Like, I'm starting to meet men that fulfill the requirements and, like, can make Kameelah happy. Because I thought it would never happen." All hail "Doug," a mechanical engineering major who Kameelah will only volunteer that she met "at a party." Cut to what must have been the least interesting manifestation of coupling social interaction in the history of modern courtship, as the aired version of the date contains one shot of them inside of a restaurant while Kameelah voice-overs something about Douglas being "intelligent." Ooooh. Smart. If that doesn't sound like the fiery throws of passion, I don't know what it is. But it's really impossible to tell from the editing. The date is so short that if you press pause at the very beginning of it and then attempt to rewind, the tape jumps forward the tiniest bit before it hits its rewinding mode stride and inadvertently fast forwards through the entire evening. They leave. Quite a night out on the town with your list-abiding Casanova, Kameelah. I've taken sips of water that have lasted longer.
Genesis is in the bathroom preparing for another big night out on the main drag. Heh. "Drag." Geddit? Puns are cool. She brushes on her make-up just the way Adam showed her, and I feel a brief tinge of missed opportunity that, as was apparent from the last reunion special, the only element of the application process he neglected to clue her in on was reminding her to actually remove the layers of facial goo before applying again in subsequent weeks. Throwing both her housemates and her continuity editors off the trail of her intended destination, Genesis announces that she will be heading to "Avalon," showing up instead at Axis a mere MTV moment later. Her housemates snipe liberally in her absence, including the Calamine-addled ramblings of Sean, who says, "The only people I've seen her with is [sic] her drag queen boyfriends. I don't know where she's coming from, who she is." Yeah, Gen, I can't believe you didn't go with the flow of your roommates' plans and stay home to rub aloe on Sean's oozing sores tonight. Three words describe your participation in that house: selfish, selfish, selfish. Oh, and I forgot "damned to hell by your deviant godlessness." Chop a "selfish" off the list if you have to, and add that one.
Over at Avalon/Axis, Adam prepares for his big show as Genesis alerts us, "In a lot of ways I think drag queens are more beautiful than an actual woman because they know how to do their hair and they know how to do their make-up and wear the right clothes." Cut to the show itself, where Genesis watches Eve parade about to "Hey, Big Spender," and then to later (or earlier? Or another week entirely?), in which Eve and Genesis get it on hot and heavy on the dance floor. Genesis is heard to tell Eve, "You're turning me on," and Eve laughs knowingly in that "And you're turning ME on. If by 'you,' you mean 'men'" way and says nothing else because Genesis is very, very fragile.
And we're back in the firehouse, where the Squiggly Hip Font of Character Introduction clues us in to the fact that Genesis is on the phone with "Genesis' [sic] mom." Beginning the conversation much in the same way I talk to my parents when the producers tell me it's time to pad my sexuality story arc (oh, you say that doesn't actually happen to people who aren't on TV? That must have something to do with the fact that my "world" actually is "real"), Genesis leaps in: "I'm tellin' you now, I'm bisexual." She tells mom that she's been attracted to two men, but both were drag queens. So Mom, who has apparently invented a "Daughter's Deviance" drinking game of some kind, which entails downing another shot of Wild Turkey every time Genesis mentions her sexuality, slurs, "I know what my therapist told me." What? That you shouldn't whine without wine? That "healing" and "Heineken" start with the same letter for a reason? That you should pass the jug of moonshine this way? What, Mrs. Genesis's Mom, did the good and great Dr. Jack Daniels share with you on the knotty matter of your daughter's sexuality? "You're not a true blue lesbian." Genesis responds that she's been hearing that a lot lately. Sigh. Keep that speakeasy open, Mrs. Genesis's Mom. I'm starting to need a pull off that moonshine myself right about now.
And speaking of regional matronly stereotypes, Sean talks on the phone to his own more-Fargo-than-Fargo mom, who "oh, yah, ya know's" him straight on back to Brainerd when he calls to talk to her about the hives. Cue ten billion more gratuitous close-ups of Sean's highly unnecessary nakedness, as Sean's mom counsels him to "eat really light." Wow, is she watching those love handles in real time? Cut to Sean lying in bed, still in those American Flag boxers, still insuring that my lunch is at all times within an inch of my throat, when Syrus enters with his typical "I really care about you. No, wait, that's me I care about" bravado as he tells Sean "If I was you [sic], I'd call somebody." Hey, that sounds like a sound plan, Syrus. How about Genesis's mom? She rarely seems to know just exactly who it is she's talking to anyway. Sean looks sad and lonely. The Cat of Vulnerability lurks around a corner, looking cute and utterly metaphorical.
And now the Squiggly Hip Font of Character Introduction tells us it's time for Kameelah to be on the phone with her mom. She tells her that she's met a guy she really likes, but he doesn't meet all of the requirements on Kameelah's list: "You've seen the list, right?" Kameelah's mom has not. Well, mom, it turns out that #147 on the list is "Has no children," and we already know that Douglas has himself a daughter. And so we cut from this conversation to Kameelah on a date the producers are trying to stretch past the duration of, say, a sneeze. For once. And they have discovered, quite intuitively I might add, that the best way to make said "Doug" appear interesting and topical is by actually telling him what to say. And so he does, at breakfast: "Does that bother you?" Kameelah announces loudly, "You mean the fact that you have a daughter?" Bunim and Murray furrow their brows and nod hopefully. Things are going unboringly! She tells him she thinks it's a little weird, and we cut to a confessional in which Kameelah admits, "I don't think I'm ready to deal with children and children's mothers. That whole situation is totally foreign to me and I think I want to keep it that way." The date is over (I'd say that one was closer in duration to a "tall glass of water," so at least we're moving in a positive direction), and it's All About Kameelah back in the firehouse, where she lies in bed and tells Sean (were they, like, EVER friends?), "I'm excited that he's taking care of his daughter, just because so many men have babies, you know what I mean, and walk out. Example: my dad." Sad and more sad.
Aptly capturing that three-and-a-half-minute cultural moment in which The Spice Girls were in some way synonymous with gay liberation (and sending me diving for amazon.com to see if "Now That's What I Call Music Volume I" is still available on vinyl or 8-track or banging two stones together and grunting or whatever the latest state-of-the-art advance in music technology was back in the day of 1997), we cut to a bar called "The Spot" as "Say You'll be There" rages as the soundtrack. Genesis is in the process of going full-tilt Scary Mommy (tm Pooh) on Adam (who the Squiggly Hip Font of Character Introduction introduces AGAIN...and they say gays are invisible in mainstream society), telling him, "I'm lost without you...you're more beautiful than I am, you're sexier than I am. You're everything I wish I could be." He tries to keep the conversation light (remember, gay = high camp value), asking, "What am I, the wind beneath your wings?" Genesis laughs a non-committal I-don't-get-it giggle, and we cut to her in a confessional admitting that she has reached a level of freakish codependence not seen since her mother's recent love sonnet to her best man Jim Beam in a recent telephone conversation I recommend you scroll up and read all about. And then she's crying in the bar because she sees him talking to someone else, and she admits to us, "I think I'm afraid of losing him, because he's the only reason I've even left my house to come out." She closes her eyes and squirts out a tear, as thoughts of life without Adam crystallize in her mind and visions of Calamine dance in her head.
And back at the firehouse once more, the Squiggly Hip Font of Character Introduction alerts us to the fact that Genesis is on the phone with a friend from down South named "Bernerd." She reads him a diary entry she wrote concerning the state of her relationship with Adam that sounds like she's taped together fortune cookies from every Chicken and Pathos combination plate she's ever ordered or like she's reading the lead sheet to "Somewhere Out There" with the words in a slightly different order. Either way, here's a sample: "I just wish for once I had somebody to hold at night...Someone to be with for the rest of my life. Someone who looks at the stars and sees the same sparkle I do." She thinks she's fallen in love with Adam, and claims she wants to marry him just so she knows she'll have someone to be with to call her own. Hmmm. Has Adam been consulted on this matter just yet, I wonder? He might have a different outlook on it all. Because then they'd have to arrange to travel all the way to Hawaii, where gay marriages are actually...oh, wait a sec. That won't happen because it's not a gay marriage and SHE'S A GIRL. And he's not.
Jason doesn't even both opening his mouth, because he's just submitted his resume to the Bumin-Murray Human Resources Department and doesn't want his pesky personality to have any marked effect on what I hear turned out to be a rather long and successful employment stint with the company. It. Figures. Kameelah has taken Jason and Elka to something called a "step show," a process she realizes is "hard to explain" so she wants them to see it. Apparently it has something to do with fraternities and dancing. Douglas shows up at a gymnasium of some kind with his daughter, who is decked out in the typical asbestos-lined arctic toddler gear necessary for the Boston winter, but from what we can see of her she is absolutely adorable. Maybe she would make a good replacement for The Cat of Vulnerability, who doesn't seem to be doing her job of making anyone feel a whole lot better about anything this week. Including me. And so the step show ends (we literally see less than one second of it), and we learn that Douglas' ex-girlfriend is there so Kameelah can't meet the daughter. And so she's bummed.
Sean vies for his latest entry in the Real World Boston: Too Hot for MTV unreleased footage tape available now in this special, one-time-only offer, when he shows up at the hospital in a blue dressing gown that leaves nothing (except Rachel's attraction to him) to the imagination. As if the last twenty-eight minutes of slow, panning shots across Sean's bumpy relief-map-of-the-sovereign-nation-of-Yucktopia-terrain had left us anything to imagine, really. He lies down on a table, and the doctor is forced to touch him and let him know that he has Urticaria (I bow to your greater Knowledge, closed-captioning, for the spelling of that one), and he prescribes Benadryl, which Sean posits "probably cost two hundred bucks." What? If by "Benadryl" he meant, what, crack? Deregulated prostitution? Soylent green? Isn't Benadryl an over-the-counter medication that costs four dollars? And isn't it less regulated of a substance than Camel Lights? The doctor advises him against operating heavy machinery, and Sean shoots back that, "A-yah, sir, no worry there as I ain't found a log yet worthy of my rollin' it yet in all-uh Boston" glance and takes his leave.
And I, for one, am glad Sean is better. Why? Well, this state of non-rashitude indicates that Sean can go back to wearing a small fashion accouterment I like to refer to as PANTS, which will now be less painful for him to put on and subsequently less painful for me to ever consider turning my television on or removing the dull Ginsu blade I plunged into my eyes at the first glimpse of that Pasty Flesh of 10,000 Lakes to begin with. Anyway, we're in the kitchen after a few disparate shots of a mercilessly dressed Sean (notice how montage-free this episode has otherwise been), and Kameelah recounts a totally filler story which begins, "A girl goes into the emergency room because her face breaks out in a rash." I fast forward a smidge, convinced as I am that this evolving wacky tale can end in no other way than with "I was talking to the duck!" or "The priest told the Pole that blondes cross the road!" But alas, the situation is even more dire than I'd originally imagined, for Kameelah is not telling a joke at all, but rather recounting that oldest of urban myths about the Chinese food and the rash and the guys who ejaculated into said food before this girl "Kameelah knows someone who knows" consumed it, giving her herpes. Puh. Leeze. Because I totally heard it wasn't a girl at all, but Mikey from the Life cereal commercial. Speaking of which, Kameelah, you'd better take your hair down soon, lest the spiders who made their nest there start hatching before you have a chance to do a damn thing about it. Satisfied that she has annoyed both Sean as well as the remainder of the American cable-owning public to within an inch of their lives, Kameelah turns back to the stove to finish preparing that new recipe of Pop Rocks sautéd in Coke she's heard is such a stomach-exploding delicacy.
Speaking of myths, here's "the guy who can allegedly live up to Kameelah's standards," approaching the firehouse now, Small One (she's never given a name) in tow. They go out on a date, and Douglas is once again not allowed to speak. And so the date is over. Back in the house, the happily dysfunctional couples of Kameelah/Douglas and Genesis/Adam/Eve watch as Montana reads Genesis's tarot cards. Genesis comments that they are "on the money," while my own Ouija board slowly spells out, "Because it's all about yoooou, Genesis." Which is so weird, because I barely even had my fingers on the thing at all! No, really, you guys. I, like, totally mean it. And now we're treated to a montage of the two couples laughing. Awwwwww. Then in the kitchen, Adam tells Genesis that she needs to be more assertive and honest about what upsets her in her relationships. Genesis voice-overs that she can see the future of her relationship as "the ultimate." Well, if the tarot cards say so.