Friday, March 10, 2006
The Amazing Race 9, Episode 2: Where We Explore Sexuality and Climb Shit
Sao Paolo, Brazil. Population: 20,000,000. A city barely large enough to contain Phil’s oobage. It is here that this complete waste of time leg of the race begins. We’re looking at a soccer stadium. A “massive” soccer stadium, by the Oobster’s description. I think it’s time Phil reevaluated. Massive stadia look like Wembley, or the Rose Bowl, or Estadio Azteca. But I digress.
At any rate, massive or no, this was the finish line for the last leg, which was the first leg, not to be confused with the middle leg, because we wouldn’t want to go for the crotch joke this early. Speaking of crotch jokes, we’re ready for the departure of Eric and Jeremy. You may remember Eric and Jeremy from last week. They were the ones acting a fool in a non-Blue Brazilian taxi cab and generally being hornier than Herb Alpert’s Tijuana Brass. Given their preference to ogling and drooling over women to actually competing in the race, yet succeeding in spite of this, I am dubbing them Team Bode Miller. The Bodes finished first in the aforementioned first leg (as I have no doubt they do in other endeavors), and, after a strangely unidentified arrival time AND mandatory rest period, they depart at 5:34 AM.
The clue they are handed instructs them to head toward an office building in Sao Paolo, approximately 20 minutes away. In a city of, as I believe I mentioned above, 20,000,000 people. I can’t believe we’re in the largest county on the continent, in the largest city in that country, and the best they can come up with is some anonymous office building that is basically around the corner. Unfortunately, this is merely the first of several uninspired destinations. So the Bodes are off to the Dunder-Mifflin of Sao Paolo, but decide to wait for their doppelgangers, the yangs to their yins, the two men who just may complete them, and with whom they will most certainly consummate, Team Haight & Ashbury.
H&A are trying way too hard to be hip. Or to be Hippie, to be more precise. They’re about as anachronistic as Austin Powers and a bit more over-the-top. It seriously wouldn’t surprise me if they ended every sentence with “Yeah, baby”. They are tiresome. They are trite. And? They just might win this race, so I’d better get over my aversion to them. Quickly.
There is one silver lining to H&A. They are the perfect match, and yes I mean that kind of match, for the Bodes. The Bodes are hypersexed. H&A are so goofy they may not have complete genitalia. H&A look like 1967. The Bodes’s pick-up lines are from 1967. Where their counterparts Joined Bode (.com) for the chicks, H&A Joined because, to them, nothing sounds cooler than attempting to ski down Everest totally baked. You could even think of them as Team Bode 1 and Team Bode 2. In short, they are Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll minus the Rock & Roll. There is absolutely nothing Rock & Roll about either of these teams. They’re more like Sex, Drugs, and John Tesh--only a bit cheesier than JT. And yes, all four of them are quite possibly retarded.
So H&A, leaving 2 minutes behind the Bodes, who are looking for sex--at 5:36 AM, join up with their soulmates. The 2 teams quickly get taxi cabs that will take them to the Office Park O’ Thrills.
10 minutes behind them, Wanda and Desiree, Team Spanglish, a Puerto Rican Momily in reverse, if you will, depart. Desiree is the Zen one who will have to reign in Wanda’s Fiery Latina-ness. They really sound like an episode of that Freddy Prinze, Jr. piece-of-crap show—inoffensive and totally forgettable.
Next come our darlings, Dave & Lori, Team DworkLove. They are sweet. They are nerdy. They are so deeply in love that they just don’t give a good fuck what you think of them. In fact, I imagine that if they’re still in it at the end that they’ll cross the finish line dressed as Dr. Who and Princess Leia, though I’m not ready to predict who will be wearing which costume. Not that there’s anything wrong with Dr. Who. Or Star Wars. Or cross-dressing. I’m just saying. As they head off, DworkDave calls DworkLori his “Hotty-boom-botty with the knotty pilates”. Really. Now there’s a couple who have realized that they’re perfect for each other. Unlike…
The Bodes. They’re still cabward toward the Office Park O’ Thrills, when one of them spies a Whore. (No, not one of THOSE whores, they haven’t even been introduced, let alone left the starting gate). Bode A (Could be Eric, could be Jeremy. I don’t know which. I can’t tell them apart and don’t care to. And fess up. You don’t care to either.) finds this Hu-er’s arse appealing. Shock and horror! It turns out this lady of the evening is no lady! That’s a man, baby. Bode B mocks Bode A. As if. Methinks the Bode doth protest too much. The sooner these peckerwoods embrace their inner Tobias Fünke, the sooner they’ll find bliss.
Meanwhile, all 4 of our early departures have reached the Office Park O’ Thrills, only to find…wait for it…that it’s CLOSED until 8 AM. Well, at least the show is consistant.
Back at Massive Oobage Stadium, Lake & Michelle, Promise Keepers and winners of the “Most Likely to Have Their Relationship Be the Focus of a Lifetime Movie of the Week” award, are ready to set out. I could add more about the sheer dysfunctionality of this couple, but you all watched last week. You saw Lake berate Michelle for second-guessing him. You saw him completely fuck up the airplane ticket booking and fail to take anything but partial blame for it. You heard him expound on his lack of compassion for other humans. And you saw him use power tools and expletives and a whole lot of whupass on that motorcycle. (Hmmm…a guy who loves banging shit with blunt objects and has no human compassion? Sounds like a dentist to me. Nice career choice, Lake.) And we all saw Michelle take it. Again and again. They are Team BurningBed.
As they depart, I can’t help but be distracted by that band-aid on Lake’s neck. What the fuck is that thing, anyway? I’ll bet it’s similar to that band-aid that Marcellas Wallace had on his neck. Y’know, the one covering up the spot where the Devil sucked out his soul? I’m guessing ol’ Lucifer came up empty, and there’s no briefcase containing it being guarded by two Mississippian slack-jawed yokels. And also? I’m guessing if the Big Kahuna Downstairs had five minutes in a room, his neck would not be the place he’d start. But, again, I’m just guessing.
Next to leave are Monica and Joseph, or “MoJo”, as they call themselves. The “Mo” portion of this team does nothing but bounce and squeal. I picture her on a trampoline, in a bikini. The “Jo” portion is a backward hat-wearing doofus, who likely spends his alone time lighting his farts on fire. They? Are Team ManShow—Juggy and Meathead.
Hot on their heels are Ray & Yolanda, your Token team of inoffensive African-Americans. I want—really want—Ray to be as militant as he purports to be, but if he were, I doubt he’d be Bruck’s Stepin Fetchit. Yolanda is pissed about their current standing, while Ray tries to stay Zen while mumbling something about marathons…or Marathon Bars…mmm, Marathon Bars…
They are followed by Barry & Fran, the requisite Old Person Couple. SeeBS, knowing its target demographic, foists a team of old codgers upon us every season, to act as “inspiration”. Mostly they complain or encourage each other like you would encourage a toddler. You remember the Havercamps from Caddyshack? Yeah, a lot like them. This season’s duo is no different. You may remember last week? When they literally couldn’t find a clue, then failed miserably at putting together a motorcycle, brakking all the way? I know, you wanted to forget. But it’s my job to make you remember. You’re welcome.
Well, for this stage, ol’ Barry has donned a ‘do rag. Or a bathing cap, I’m not quite sure. Whichever, it looks totally preposterous on his God-given chrome dome. This pathetic attempt to look cool gives me no choice but to call them Team Artificial Hip. They depart shortly after 7 AM. Still plenty of time to catch the rest of the e’er bunching pack. Oh, goody.
Speaking of goodies, Bruck’s breastaceous pair is next. Dani & Danielle (wish I was kidding), 2 Staten Island gutter tramps who are so skeeztastic, not even the syphilitic, miscreant Brazilian oglers outside the motorcycle shop would accept a “Head for Service” arrangement on last week’s Build-A-Bike Detour option, were hoping to use their “femininity” as a crutch. No such luck. Well, there’s always the Bodes, but they’re so sexually confused they’d probably wind up fucking each other in the odd (and beyond disturbing) chance they hook up in some sort of repugnant foursome mélange. Boy, I’m sorry I went there. OK, shake it off…
Where was I? Oh yeah, Double-D, as they like to be called. I can’t speak for the rest of you, but whenever I see them, I am reminded of a certain D-List hobag, and so, henceforth they will be known as Team Tara Reid.
Bringing up the rear (in more ways than one) are the self-proclaimed “Glamazons”, Loni & Josi or Lisa & Joni or Joanie & Chachi or whatever the hell their names are. You may remember them from last week, when they narrowly defeated Harvey Fierstein and Sean Hayes and the karmic power of Barbara Eden to stay in the race. This couple can’t die fast enough. For everyone. As bad as some of these teams are, on a cosmic scale, these two hateful, shrill, fluorescent blights must lose. The fate of the ratings for this show may depend on it, and frankly, after last season’s debacle (which I thankfully didn’t watch), they’d lose the remainder of the momentum gained after the studly TAR7. Then each and every one of us would have to find something else to do on Tuesdays, like parent children or talk to spouses or *gasp* go OUTSIDE, and that? Simply won’t do. Can I get an Amen? These 2 hagwenches must go down, and, as Al Davis would say, they must go down hard.
Now that we’ve dispatched with the colorful introductions, we can get to the meat of this particular episode. Unfortunately, there is WAY more cereal filler than meat this go ‘round. I could try to reenact the suspenseful cab rides to the Office Park O’ Thrills, but it would be a lie. So let’s flash forward a bit, ‘kay? To no one’s shock, all 10 remaining teams make it to the Sao Paolan cube farm by the 8 AM opening bell.
Once the hounds have been released, it’s a full-on rush up some stairs to some roof-like structure. There, they find the Clue Box (yes, even the Artificial Hips). And we have our first ROADBLOCK. A “Roadblock” is a task…oh fer heck. You know what a fucking Roadblock is. In this creative edition, one lucky party gets to climb up one of three outside fire escapes and rappel back down. 400 feet! That’s like 40 stories! Did I mention it was outside? Dood, I can’t make a silk purse out of this sow’s-ear-of-a-challenge. The only strategic element to this challenge is that teams queue up in the order in which they reach the top of the respective staircases. Apparently, only the bong water-addled H&A understand this part and smartly go up Escape 3. The other nine teams jam up Escapes 1 & 2.
There is much panting, gasping, and encouragement from partners, and I SO wish that was code. Bode B attempts to compliment Tara B, then turns to the camera and says “you gotta make the girls feel good, so you can get into their pants later”. Yeah, that’s verbatim. Dood, there are creatures of death trying to get OUT of Tara B’s pants, and you want in?
Meanwhile back on the roof, the line at the top of Escape 1 is: Bode A, Token Ray, Spanglish Desiree, Tara A, and Artificial Hip Fran. Escape 2’s line is: ManShow Joe, BurningBed Lake, DworkLove Dave, and Hagazon Joni or Chachi. H&A A is the only one smart enough to use Escape 3. They make it down pretty much in alternating order, receiving their clue which tells them to go to…wait for it…THE BUS STATION! Yay! (Jeezus, this episode sucks.)
Eventually, it’s Tara A’s turn. She suddenly remembers she has a fear of heights. This? Is staggering genius. AH Fran attempts to talk her off the ledge (as it were), all the while thinking “I’m gonna kill this bitch if she doesn’t get a move on.” Fade to black…
And, we’re back! Tara A still freaking. AH Fran still comforting, with an option to push. Everyone is now en route to the Bus Depot of Dreams (BDD) except the aforementioned Taras and AHs, as well as the Hags. At the BDD, there are 3 buses that await our teams. One at 10:15, one at 11:15, and one at 12:15. The first two have 3 slots, the last has 4.
Back at the Office Tower of Power, Tara A has finally overcome her fear, or developed a newer and stronger fear of Fran. Hag Chachi is, in a moment of rare clarity, letting gravity do it’s thang and drag her fat ass to the ground. A couple of third-degree friction burns later, she lands. Finally, AH Fran makes it to the bottom, as well. The Hags try to get directions, but find that barking at Brazilians in English doesn’t really command the attention they thought it should.
At the BDD, the Bodes, H&A, ManShow, and the Tokens all rush for the first bus vouchers. The Tokens lose out. They are relegated to Bus 2. Meanwhile, BurningBed has arrived at the wrong bus station. Lake blames Michelle and the locals, in that order.
DworkLove and Spanglish arrive at the BDD and claim seats 2 and 3 on Bus 2. There is much rejoicing. The Taras just miss out, and the Bodes console them by grabbing their diseased asses. The Bodes call them “dirty”. Brother, you don’t know the half of it. One gets the feeling that the Taras expected ticket compensation for their compliance, but I’m quite sure the Bodes were looking for something more along the lines of a fluid exchange. OK, I’ve officially skeeved myself out. Ick.
The remaining teams arrive and claim their spots on Bus 3. So, to recap: Bus 1 contains the Bodes, H&A, and ManShow, Bus 2 contains the Tokens, Spanglish, and DworkLove, and ShortBus 3 contains the Taras, BurningBeds, Artificial Hips, and the Hagazons.
There is a brief attempt at oohing and aahing over the countryside, but it’s only a 150 mile trip fer chrissakes. No good bus breakdowns, no attempts at driver bribery, no nothing. One. Boring. Busride.
When they arrive at their destination, there are 10 VW bugs waiting for them. H&A gain an immediate competitive advantage. The clue that awaits them is a DETOUR. Pros and cons and all that. This detour involves climbing (MORE fucking climbing?!) or pressing. Teams can either climb a waterfall or make ethanol out of sugar cane. All three of our dumbfuck Bus 1 teams choose climbing. Quelle surprise. All three cars decide to follow each other. Driving, followed by direction asking, followed by Juggy ass-ogling by the Bodes, followed by more driving and direction asking, until they reach Jacare Falls.
You may remember Jacare from Survivor 6: The Amazon. As it happens, S6’s Rob Cesternino, the nanciest bedwetter never to win Survivor, has opened his very own Waterfall Adventure Park and Mini Golf establishment. This week’s special? Hit the ball through Heidi Ho’s Hoo-Hoo and win a Big Gulp.
At any rate, H&A arrive at Rob C’s first after a closely contested game of Punchbuggy, closely followed by a jiggly Juggy and grunting Meathead, and the Bodes, who “can’t wait to slip into their Speedos”. No, they’re not gay at all. They each wade into the water, with the Bodes complaining about damaging their suede shoes. Yeah, totally heterosexual, those guys.
Meanwhile, Bus 2 has arrived at the Love Bug-o-rama. Tokens decide to climb, what with Yolanda having thighs that would put Bo Jackson’s to shame, while DworkLove and Spanglish opt to make ethanol. Dwork Dave claims to have done this experiment in high school, although it was probably last week during a Mythbusters marathon.
Back at Rob C’s, H&A have climbed the falls, as have ManShow. Bode B has a “kink in his rope” (Code?), but eventually makes it to the top. Bode A says “Way to go, Slammer.” (Really.) Now, it’s off to the pit stop, a coffee plantation down the road about 20 miles. I think all tolled, this Stage took about 4 hours and 3 of those were the bus ride. They totally could’ve done this episode in real time, 24-style.
Elsewhere, the Bus 2 peeps are cluelessly driving around the Brazilian wilderness as ShortBus 3 arrives. Taras, Artificial Hips, and BurningBeds all decide to climb, Hags decide to press. The Taras, oddly enough, are having a difficult time with the gear shift. The Hags are also having a difficult time with the gear shift. This is a lot easier to believe. They begin to yell at each other as I—errr, we fade to black…
Back again! Hags still yelling at each other. And crying. Don’t forget the crying. Oh, these two are such a joy to watch. *simulates suicide* Eventually, they ask directions, and the locals show them where they can go.
Elsewhere on the road, the Bus 1 peeps are headed to the pit stop, but get lost. Again. The Bodes pass the Taras on the road and show them their peenies. They wonder what will happen if the objects of their erections are Philiminated. Will they *gasp* have to hit on the Hippies? If this were a Burnett production, that would be Shithammer foreshadowing if I ever saw it. As it is, I’m now optimistic that the Bode/H&A love connection will happen. Oh yes, it WILL happen.
The Dworks have reached the press. There is squirting of juice, none of it sexual in nature. The Tokens arrive at Rob C’s, using words that end in “izzle”. I’m quite sure this was dubbed in later. Spanglish reaches the press, as well, just as the Dworks are finishing up. Dwork Dave is proud of hiscrystal meth ethanol concoction. They receive their clue, and they’re off! Tokens also complete the Detour and head to the pit stop.
The Artificial Hips, en route to Rob C’s, explain to us that they chose this physically demanding task because they couldn’t put a motorcycle together. Umm, OK. This was the team that was supposed to win using their wits, right? Just checking. This is followed by more uninteresting confusion from the ShortBus 3 peeps as they attempt to find their destinations.
Meanwhile, Spanglish finishes the ethanol and gets their clue.
The Bus 1 peeps are still lost, or they’re using recycled footage to fill the hour, I’m not sure which and it's completely uninteresting in either event. The Bodes stop following H&A and ask for directions. They are told they should have stayed behind H&A. They have a collective “D’Oh!” moment, as H&A spastically reach the plantation. They come running, flipping, and somersaulting down the hill shouting “Hey Philip!”. They actually did it. Yes they did. They called him Philip. Excellent. “Philip” does not look as thrilled, however. He tells them they are Team #1 and that they’ve won a trip to Tahiti. H&A are so excited they begin to thrash about like teenagers who know that they were given naughty bits, but haven’t quite figured out how to use them. It was a bit jarring, truthfully.
Not far behind them are the Bodes, who are yelling about being cranky and then say “I’m gonna smack you, woman” to Phil. Phil gives them the evil eyebrow, as if to say “not if my huge rack has anything to say about it, you won’t.” Possibly the most surreal moment ever on this show. ManShow arrives 3rd. There is jiggling from Juggy.
Back at Rob C’s, Artificial Hips and BurningBeds have arrived. Both teams make their wives go first. Lake is, quizzically, shirtless. He shouts at Michelle to get her ass up the waterfall. I find myself wishing leeches upon his naked bosom. Then Fran takes a header off the rock face and she—errr, we fade to black…
Ready for one more segment? Me neither. Lake is still screaming at Michelle. Fran has rebounded, literally and figuratively, to inching her way back up the falls. Michelle reaches the top and Lake yells “I’m comin’ after ya!” Although he usually is shirtless when he says this at home, he’s also usually holding a steak knife. Fran makes it to the top just before Lake. Lake screams like the Neanderthal that he is as they receive their clue.
Back at Philip, the Dworks, Tokens, and Spanglish reach the mat in that order.
The Taras arrive at Rob C’s and hustle into the water. Tara A passes Barry and reaches the top quickly. Barry then reaches the top, and the Hips are off to the pit stop. The Taras are close behind them.
Elsewhere, the Hags have finally reached the press. Chachi says “Pretend like you’re giving birth.” Loni says “I had a C-section.” I have no idea what that exchange was about, but I’m filing a Class Action suit against Bruckheimer for putting that image in my brain.
Out on the road, Lake has had e-goddamn-nough of Spanish and refuses to ask directions. When Michelle points out that they speak Portuguese in Brazil, Lake reminds her what happens when you contradict Daddy. Down the road a spell, the AH’s car dies and the Taras pass them. Lake forces a young darkie Brazilian into servitude and makes him lead them to the plantation, then is horrified when his new servant stops to get gas.
Finally, the AH’s new car arrives, as Philip explains that, while they will be getting a replacement car, they’re pretty much screwed in the time credit department.
Back at the press, the Hags continue to bitch and moan about not wanting to go home. They, and the possible exception of their husbands, are the only people on the planet who don't want this.
At the plantation, BurningBed and the Taras arrive simultaneously. Lake yells at Michelle to move her ass. There is running. There is yelling. There is Lake & Michelle finishing ahead of the Taras. Lake is stunned that they’re in 7th place. The Taras seem to want something from Philip for finishing in 8th. Philip directs them to the Bodes’s cottage.
And then…darkness. All of a sudden. No dusk, no red sunset. Darkness. All-consuming, break-out-your-miner-helmet darkness. This is followed by the tiresome ritual of creatively editing a photo-finish. Will it be the Hips or the Hags? Who gives a flying fuck? Could it possibly be both? Please? Alas, it is not. The Hips emerge from the darkness, and after the obligatory pregnant pause, Philip tells them they are Team #9. They are incredulous. How bad must the Hags have sucked to finish behind the team who needed a replacement automobile? Finally, the Hags limp to the finish. They are Philiminated. They cry. I? Don’t care. They are off my TV, and I’m doing my little dance of joy. It’s quite something. Really. I should have taped it.
Next week: Russians, Nesting Doll Hell, and Fear of Water. ¶ 4:15 PM
At any rate, massive or no, this was the finish line for the last leg, which was the first leg, not to be confused with the middle leg, because we wouldn’t want to go for the crotch joke this early. Speaking of crotch jokes, we’re ready for the departure of Eric and Jeremy. You may remember Eric and Jeremy from last week. They were the ones acting a fool in a non-Blue Brazilian taxi cab and generally being hornier than Herb Alpert’s Tijuana Brass. Given their preference to ogling and drooling over women to actually competing in the race, yet succeeding in spite of this, I am dubbing them Team Bode Miller. The Bodes finished first in the aforementioned first leg (as I have no doubt they do in other endeavors), and, after a strangely unidentified arrival time AND mandatory rest period, they depart at 5:34 AM.
The clue they are handed instructs them to head toward an office building in Sao Paolo, approximately 20 minutes away. In a city of, as I believe I mentioned above, 20,000,000 people. I can’t believe we’re in the largest county on the continent, in the largest city in that country, and the best they can come up with is some anonymous office building that is basically around the corner. Unfortunately, this is merely the first of several uninspired destinations. So the Bodes are off to the Dunder-Mifflin of Sao Paolo, but decide to wait for their doppelgangers, the yangs to their yins, the two men who just may complete them, and with whom they will most certainly consummate, Team Haight & Ashbury.
H&A are trying way too hard to be hip. Or to be Hippie, to be more precise. They’re about as anachronistic as Austin Powers and a bit more over-the-top. It seriously wouldn’t surprise me if they ended every sentence with “Yeah, baby”. They are tiresome. They are trite. And? They just might win this race, so I’d better get over my aversion to them. Quickly.
There is one silver lining to H&A. They are the perfect match, and yes I mean that kind of match, for the Bodes. The Bodes are hypersexed. H&A are so goofy they may not have complete genitalia. H&A look like 1967. The Bodes’s pick-up lines are from 1967. Where their counterparts Joined Bode (.com) for the chicks, H&A Joined because, to them, nothing sounds cooler than attempting to ski down Everest totally baked. You could even think of them as Team Bode 1 and Team Bode 2. In short, they are Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll minus the Rock & Roll. There is absolutely nothing Rock & Roll about either of these teams. They’re more like Sex, Drugs, and John Tesh--only a bit cheesier than JT. And yes, all four of them are quite possibly retarded.
So H&A, leaving 2 minutes behind the Bodes, who are looking for sex--at 5:36 AM, join up with their soulmates. The 2 teams quickly get taxi cabs that will take them to the Office Park O’ Thrills.
10 minutes behind them, Wanda and Desiree, Team Spanglish, a Puerto Rican Momily in reverse, if you will, depart. Desiree is the Zen one who will have to reign in Wanda’s Fiery Latina-ness. They really sound like an episode of that Freddy Prinze, Jr. piece-of-crap show—inoffensive and totally forgettable.
Next come our darlings, Dave & Lori, Team DworkLove. They are sweet. They are nerdy. They are so deeply in love that they just don’t give a good fuck what you think of them. In fact, I imagine that if they’re still in it at the end that they’ll cross the finish line dressed as Dr. Who and Princess Leia, though I’m not ready to predict who will be wearing which costume. Not that there’s anything wrong with Dr. Who. Or Star Wars. Or cross-dressing. I’m just saying. As they head off, DworkDave calls DworkLori his “Hotty-boom-botty with the knotty pilates”. Really. Now there’s a couple who have realized that they’re perfect for each other. Unlike…
The Bodes. They’re still cabward toward the Office Park O’ Thrills, when one of them spies a Whore. (No, not one of THOSE whores, they haven’t even been introduced, let alone left the starting gate). Bode A (Could be Eric, could be Jeremy. I don’t know which. I can’t tell them apart and don’t care to. And fess up. You don’t care to either.) finds this Hu-er’s arse appealing. Shock and horror! It turns out this lady of the evening is no lady! That’s a man, baby. Bode B mocks Bode A. As if. Methinks the Bode doth protest too much. The sooner these peckerwoods embrace their inner Tobias Fünke, the sooner they’ll find bliss.
Meanwhile, all 4 of our early departures have reached the Office Park O’ Thrills, only to find…wait for it…that it’s CLOSED until 8 AM. Well, at least the show is consistant.
Back at Massive Oobage Stadium, Lake & Michelle, Promise Keepers and winners of the “Most Likely to Have Their Relationship Be the Focus of a Lifetime Movie of the Week” award, are ready to set out. I could add more about the sheer dysfunctionality of this couple, but you all watched last week. You saw Lake berate Michelle for second-guessing him. You saw him completely fuck up the airplane ticket booking and fail to take anything but partial blame for it. You heard him expound on his lack of compassion for other humans. And you saw him use power tools and expletives and a whole lot of whupass on that motorcycle. (Hmmm…a guy who loves banging shit with blunt objects and has no human compassion? Sounds like a dentist to me. Nice career choice, Lake.) And we all saw Michelle take it. Again and again. They are Team BurningBed.
As they depart, I can’t help but be distracted by that band-aid on Lake’s neck. What the fuck is that thing, anyway? I’ll bet it’s similar to that band-aid that Marcellas Wallace had on his neck. Y’know, the one covering up the spot where the Devil sucked out his soul? I’m guessing ol’ Lucifer came up empty, and there’s no briefcase containing it being guarded by two Mississippian slack-jawed yokels. And also? I’m guessing if the Big Kahuna Downstairs had five minutes in a room, his neck would not be the place he’d start. But, again, I’m just guessing.
Next to leave are Monica and Joseph, or “MoJo”, as they call themselves. The “Mo” portion of this team does nothing but bounce and squeal. I picture her on a trampoline, in a bikini. The “Jo” portion is a backward hat-wearing doofus, who likely spends his alone time lighting his farts on fire. They? Are Team ManShow—Juggy and Meathead.
Hot on their heels are Ray & Yolanda, your Token team of inoffensive African-Americans. I want—really want—Ray to be as militant as he purports to be, but if he were, I doubt he’d be Bruck’s Stepin Fetchit. Yolanda is pissed about their current standing, while Ray tries to stay Zen while mumbling something about marathons…or Marathon Bars…mmm, Marathon Bars…
They are followed by Barry & Fran, the requisite Old Person Couple. SeeBS, knowing its target demographic, foists a team of old codgers upon us every season, to act as “inspiration”. Mostly they complain or encourage each other like you would encourage a toddler. You remember the Havercamps from Caddyshack? Yeah, a lot like them. This season’s duo is no different. You may remember last week? When they literally couldn’t find a clue, then failed miserably at putting together a motorcycle, brakking all the way? I know, you wanted to forget. But it’s my job to make you remember. You’re welcome.
Well, for this stage, ol’ Barry has donned a ‘do rag. Or a bathing cap, I’m not quite sure. Whichever, it looks totally preposterous on his God-given chrome dome. This pathetic attempt to look cool gives me no choice but to call them Team Artificial Hip. They depart shortly after 7 AM. Still plenty of time to catch the rest of the e’er bunching pack. Oh, goody.
Speaking of goodies, Bruck’s breastaceous pair is next. Dani & Danielle (wish I was kidding), 2 Staten Island gutter tramps who are so skeeztastic, not even the syphilitic, miscreant Brazilian oglers outside the motorcycle shop would accept a “Head for Service” arrangement on last week’s Build-A-Bike Detour option, were hoping to use their “femininity” as a crutch. No such luck. Well, there’s always the Bodes, but they’re so sexually confused they’d probably wind up fucking each other in the odd (and beyond disturbing) chance they hook up in some sort of repugnant foursome mélange. Boy, I’m sorry I went there. OK, shake it off…
Where was I? Oh yeah, Double-D, as they like to be called. I can’t speak for the rest of you, but whenever I see them, I am reminded of a certain D-List hobag, and so, henceforth they will be known as Team Tara Reid.
Bringing up the rear (in more ways than one) are the self-proclaimed “Glamazons”, Loni & Josi or Lisa & Joni or Joanie & Chachi or whatever the hell their names are. You may remember them from last week, when they narrowly defeated Harvey Fierstein and Sean Hayes and the karmic power of Barbara Eden to stay in the race. This couple can’t die fast enough. For everyone. As bad as some of these teams are, on a cosmic scale, these two hateful, shrill, fluorescent blights must lose. The fate of the ratings for this show may depend on it, and frankly, after last season’s debacle (which I thankfully didn’t watch), they’d lose the remainder of the momentum gained after the studly TAR7. Then each and every one of us would have to find something else to do on Tuesdays, like parent children or talk to spouses or *gasp* go OUTSIDE, and that? Simply won’t do. Can I get an Amen? These 2 hagwenches must go down, and, as Al Davis would say, they must go down hard.
Now that we’ve dispatched with the colorful introductions, we can get to the meat of this particular episode. Unfortunately, there is WAY more cereal filler than meat this go ‘round. I could try to reenact the suspenseful cab rides to the Office Park O’ Thrills, but it would be a lie. So let’s flash forward a bit, ‘kay? To no one’s shock, all 10 remaining teams make it to the Sao Paolan cube farm by the 8 AM opening bell.
Once the hounds have been released, it’s a full-on rush up some stairs to some roof-like structure. There, they find the Clue Box (yes, even the Artificial Hips). And we have our first ROADBLOCK. A “Roadblock” is a task…oh fer heck. You know what a fucking Roadblock is. In this creative edition, one lucky party gets to climb up one of three outside fire escapes and rappel back down. 400 feet! That’s like 40 stories! Did I mention it was outside? Dood, I can’t make a silk purse out of this sow’s-ear-of-a-challenge. The only strategic element to this challenge is that teams queue up in the order in which they reach the top of the respective staircases. Apparently, only the bong water-addled H&A understand this part and smartly go up Escape 3. The other nine teams jam up Escapes 1 & 2.
There is much panting, gasping, and encouragement from partners, and I SO wish that was code. Bode B attempts to compliment Tara B, then turns to the camera and says “you gotta make the girls feel good, so you can get into their pants later”. Yeah, that’s verbatim. Dood, there are creatures of death trying to get OUT of Tara B’s pants, and you want in?
Meanwhile back on the roof, the line at the top of Escape 1 is: Bode A, Token Ray, Spanglish Desiree, Tara A, and Artificial Hip Fran. Escape 2’s line is: ManShow Joe, BurningBed Lake, DworkLove Dave, and Hagazon Joni or Chachi. H&A A is the only one smart enough to use Escape 3. They make it down pretty much in alternating order, receiving their clue which tells them to go to…wait for it…THE BUS STATION! Yay! (Jeezus, this episode sucks.)
Eventually, it’s Tara A’s turn. She suddenly remembers she has a fear of heights. This? Is staggering genius. AH Fran attempts to talk her off the ledge (as it were), all the while thinking “I’m gonna kill this bitch if she doesn’t get a move on.” Fade to black…
And, we’re back! Tara A still freaking. AH Fran still comforting, with an option to push. Everyone is now en route to the Bus Depot of Dreams (BDD) except the aforementioned Taras and AHs, as well as the Hags. At the BDD, there are 3 buses that await our teams. One at 10:15, one at 11:15, and one at 12:15. The first two have 3 slots, the last has 4.
Back at the Office Tower of Power, Tara A has finally overcome her fear, or developed a newer and stronger fear of Fran. Hag Chachi is, in a moment of rare clarity, letting gravity do it’s thang and drag her fat ass to the ground. A couple of third-degree friction burns later, she lands. Finally, AH Fran makes it to the bottom, as well. The Hags try to get directions, but find that barking at Brazilians in English doesn’t really command the attention they thought it should.
At the BDD, the Bodes, H&A, ManShow, and the Tokens all rush for the first bus vouchers. The Tokens lose out. They are relegated to Bus 2. Meanwhile, BurningBed has arrived at the wrong bus station. Lake blames Michelle and the locals, in that order.
DworkLove and Spanglish arrive at the BDD and claim seats 2 and 3 on Bus 2. There is much rejoicing. The Taras just miss out, and the Bodes console them by grabbing their diseased asses. The Bodes call them “dirty”. Brother, you don’t know the half of it. One gets the feeling that the Taras expected ticket compensation for their compliance, but I’m quite sure the Bodes were looking for something more along the lines of a fluid exchange. OK, I’ve officially skeeved myself out. Ick.
The remaining teams arrive and claim their spots on Bus 3. So, to recap: Bus 1 contains the Bodes, H&A, and ManShow, Bus 2 contains the Tokens, Spanglish, and DworkLove, and ShortBus 3 contains the Taras, BurningBeds, Artificial Hips, and the Hagazons.
There is a brief attempt at oohing and aahing over the countryside, but it’s only a 150 mile trip fer chrissakes. No good bus breakdowns, no attempts at driver bribery, no nothing. One. Boring. Busride.
When they arrive at their destination, there are 10 VW bugs waiting for them. H&A gain an immediate competitive advantage. The clue that awaits them is a DETOUR. Pros and cons and all that. This detour involves climbing (MORE fucking climbing?!) or pressing. Teams can either climb a waterfall or make ethanol out of sugar cane. All three of our dumbfuck Bus 1 teams choose climbing. Quelle surprise. All three cars decide to follow each other. Driving, followed by direction asking, followed by Juggy ass-ogling by the Bodes, followed by more driving and direction asking, until they reach Jacare Falls.
You may remember Jacare from Survivor 6: The Amazon. As it happens, S6’s Rob Cesternino, the nanciest bedwetter never to win Survivor, has opened his very own Waterfall Adventure Park and Mini Golf establishment. This week’s special? Hit the ball through Heidi Ho’s Hoo-Hoo and win a Big Gulp.
At any rate, H&A arrive at Rob C’s first after a closely contested game of Punchbuggy, closely followed by a jiggly Juggy and grunting Meathead, and the Bodes, who “can’t wait to slip into their Speedos”. No, they’re not gay at all. They each wade into the water, with the Bodes complaining about damaging their suede shoes. Yeah, totally heterosexual, those guys.
Meanwhile, Bus 2 has arrived at the Love Bug-o-rama. Tokens decide to climb, what with Yolanda having thighs that would put Bo Jackson’s to shame, while DworkLove and Spanglish opt to make ethanol. Dwork Dave claims to have done this experiment in high school, although it was probably last week during a Mythbusters marathon.
Back at Rob C’s, H&A have climbed the falls, as have ManShow. Bode B has a “kink in his rope” (Code?), but eventually makes it to the top. Bode A says “Way to go, Slammer.” (Really.) Now, it’s off to the pit stop, a coffee plantation down the road about 20 miles. I think all tolled, this Stage took about 4 hours and 3 of those were the bus ride. They totally could’ve done this episode in real time, 24-style.
Elsewhere, the Bus 2 peeps are cluelessly driving around the Brazilian wilderness as ShortBus 3 arrives. Taras, Artificial Hips, and BurningBeds all decide to climb, Hags decide to press. The Taras, oddly enough, are having a difficult time with the gear shift. The Hags are also having a difficult time with the gear shift. This is a lot easier to believe. They begin to yell at each other as I—errr, we fade to black…
Back again! Hags still yelling at each other. And crying. Don’t forget the crying. Oh, these two are such a joy to watch. *simulates suicide* Eventually, they ask directions, and the locals show them where they can go.
Elsewhere on the road, the Bus 1 peeps are headed to the pit stop, but get lost. Again. The Bodes pass the Taras on the road and show them their peenies. They wonder what will happen if the objects of their erections are Philiminated. Will they *gasp* have to hit on the Hippies? If this were a Burnett production, that would be Shithammer foreshadowing if I ever saw it. As it is, I’m now optimistic that the Bode/H&A love connection will happen. Oh yes, it WILL happen.
The Dworks have reached the press. There is squirting of juice, none of it sexual in nature. The Tokens arrive at Rob C’s, using words that end in “izzle”. I’m quite sure this was dubbed in later. Spanglish reaches the press, as well, just as the Dworks are finishing up. Dwork Dave is proud of his
The Artificial Hips, en route to Rob C’s, explain to us that they chose this physically demanding task because they couldn’t put a motorcycle together. Umm, OK. This was the team that was supposed to win using their wits, right? Just checking. This is followed by more uninteresting confusion from the ShortBus 3 peeps as they attempt to find their destinations.
Meanwhile, Spanglish finishes the ethanol and gets their clue.
The Bus 1 peeps are still lost, or they’re using recycled footage to fill the hour, I’m not sure which and it's completely uninteresting in either event. The Bodes stop following H&A and ask for directions. They are told they should have stayed behind H&A. They have a collective “D’Oh!” moment, as H&A spastically reach the plantation. They come running, flipping, and somersaulting down the hill shouting “Hey Philip!”. They actually did it. Yes they did. They called him Philip. Excellent. “Philip” does not look as thrilled, however. He tells them they are Team #1 and that they’ve won a trip to Tahiti. H&A are so excited they begin to thrash about like teenagers who know that they were given naughty bits, but haven’t quite figured out how to use them. It was a bit jarring, truthfully.
Not far behind them are the Bodes, who are yelling about being cranky and then say “I’m gonna smack you, woman” to Phil. Phil gives them the evil eyebrow, as if to say “not if my huge rack has anything to say about it, you won’t.” Possibly the most surreal moment ever on this show. ManShow arrives 3rd. There is jiggling from Juggy.
Back at Rob C’s, Artificial Hips and BurningBeds have arrived. Both teams make their wives go first. Lake is, quizzically, shirtless. He shouts at Michelle to get her ass up the waterfall. I find myself wishing leeches upon his naked bosom. Then Fran takes a header off the rock face and she—errr, we fade to black…
Ready for one more segment? Me neither. Lake is still screaming at Michelle. Fran has rebounded, literally and figuratively, to inching her way back up the falls. Michelle reaches the top and Lake yells “I’m comin’ after ya!” Although he usually is shirtless when he says this at home, he’s also usually holding a steak knife. Fran makes it to the top just before Lake. Lake screams like the Neanderthal that he is as they receive their clue.
Back at Philip, the Dworks, Tokens, and Spanglish reach the mat in that order.
The Taras arrive at Rob C’s and hustle into the water. Tara A passes Barry and reaches the top quickly. Barry then reaches the top, and the Hips are off to the pit stop. The Taras are close behind them.
Elsewhere, the Hags have finally reached the press. Chachi says “Pretend like you’re giving birth.” Loni says “I had a C-section.” I have no idea what that exchange was about, but I’m filing a Class Action suit against Bruckheimer for putting that image in my brain.
Out on the road, Lake has had e-goddamn-nough of Spanish and refuses to ask directions. When Michelle points out that they speak Portuguese in Brazil, Lake reminds her what happens when you contradict Daddy. Down the road a spell, the AH’s car dies and the Taras pass them. Lake forces a young darkie Brazilian into servitude and makes him lead them to the plantation, then is horrified when his new servant stops to get gas.
Finally, the AH’s new car arrives, as Philip explains that, while they will be getting a replacement car, they’re pretty much screwed in the time credit department.
Back at the press, the Hags continue to bitch and moan about not wanting to go home. They, and the possible exception of their husbands, are the only people on the planet who don't want this.
At the plantation, BurningBed and the Taras arrive simultaneously. Lake yells at Michelle to move her ass. There is running. There is yelling. There is Lake & Michelle finishing ahead of the Taras. Lake is stunned that they’re in 7th place. The Taras seem to want something from Philip for finishing in 8th. Philip directs them to the Bodes’s cottage.
And then…darkness. All of a sudden. No dusk, no red sunset. Darkness. All-consuming, break-out-your-miner-helmet darkness. This is followed by the tiresome ritual of creatively editing a photo-finish. Will it be the Hips or the Hags? Who gives a flying fuck? Could it possibly be both? Please? Alas, it is not. The Hips emerge from the darkness, and after the obligatory pregnant pause, Philip tells them they are Team #9. They are incredulous. How bad must the Hags have sucked to finish behind the team who needed a replacement automobile? Finally, the Hags limp to the finish. They are Philiminated. They cry. I? Don’t care. They are off my TV, and I’m doing my little dance of joy. It’s quite something. Really. I should have taped it.
Next week: Russians, Nesting Doll Hell, and Fear of Water. ¶ 4:15 PM
