|
||||||
Previously. Svet wanted friends. Paula was jealous of John's pizza. Tyler was mean to Svet's giant boobs. Why would anyone name a child "John" anymore? It's just like saying, "Here. I'll put absolutely no thought into your name. Whatever. John. There, we named him. I'ma go watch some TV."
Credits. Kids. Key West. Water. Many little islands that will soon be underwater. (Oooh. Message-y, this week!)
Water. Water. Key West. Houses. Houses. The house. Montage of Paula hammocking, while inside, Svet does internet research on eating disorders and makes up, like, a cheat sheet or something. The fuck? Janelle and Tyler dis her, Tyler saying that they're not supposed to be doing a research paper, and that they should find Paula a psychologist. Svet snots, sarcastically, "Yeah. Cuz it's that simple." And Tyler threateningly points an envelope at her and warns her not to speak like that to him. Uh, you mean condescendingly? Like, exactly the way you constantly speak to her? Wait, why the hell am I defending Svetlana on The Real World? I don't give a fuck. Be hypocritical all you want, Tyler. I'm going to go make me a bowl of Cheerios-and-bourbon. Svet is wearing thick drag makeup, for some reason, as Tyler continues to dis her plan to hand Paula a piece of paper with facts about anorexia on it. The only way that piece of paper could possibly help Paula is if Svet put peanut butter on it and made Paula eat it. Svet camera-nasals that Tyler is always saying mean things to her to try to hurt her. Yes, and for God's sake don't stop, Tyler. It's funny.
The doorbell rings. Faceless Blonde at the door (not literally faceless; that would be terrifying!). She gives them a piece of paper announcing that they will be starting their new job the next day. Man, I wish employment really worked like that -- that you'd be sitting at your house in your underwear doing nothing and someone would just show up or call to say that you have a job the next day. Oh, yeah, they do have that. It's called "temping." Jose camera-gays that he's excited to work, and that he's tired of sitting on his ass all day. The kids look up something on the internet that leads them to believe they'll be doing something with art. Zach -- his hippie eyes thick-lidded not from pot but from his missing chromosomes -- camera-naps that he always thought they'd be doing something with deep-sea diving, or sharks. Uh, okay.
Night. Sailboat. House. Deck. Tyler and Jose have a little boys' bonding. They discuss how certain people in the house don't need money, and that they hope the fact that there are The Rich in their ranks (Svet, clearly) won't inhibit their business from being successful; Tyler is worried that Svet won't take the job seriously. Jose camera-eyebrows that Svet is constantly going back and forth about her background, pretending to have grown up in the 'hood (pot, kettle!) but also flaunting her rich cars and belongings. Ooh, yeah. There is something noxious about the rich pretending not to be. And they all do it. If I were rich, I'd be up in your grill about it. Make you feel poor assholes feel hella poor and shitty. Jose adds that he needs to make some money and that he always works by himself on his "business ventures," and now he has to rely on these fucktards and it's hard for him. Jesus Piss Christ, Jose, we all know you're a "businessman." We get it. Now put down the tweezers and give it a fucking rest, ya slumlord. Go to your building and fix some pipes or update the electrical or something, before all your tenants die. Tyler lisps up a storm, saying that they really need to "sssit down" and look at the "ssskills" and "weaknesssssessss" they all have as workers. Jose helpfully foreshadows that he thinks some of them are going to "bump heads."