Sunday, May 07, 2006
The Amazing Race 9: Episode Nine: In Which
Well here we are once again, me writing and you reading another one of our efforts here at CircleOf. Before I begin, though, I have to comment, or disclaim if you will, on what we all know to be the highlight, or lowlight of this particular episode—a frank and bare disclosure of Frankenberry’s sex-life, or lack thereof. Evidently, being on the Amazing Race has thrown some particularly nasty interruptus into their coitus. And since it’s been a while since the episode actually aired (completely my bad; life interfered for a bit), I’ve had a time to reflect on my feelings regarding the disturbing nature of this disclosure. Or more specifically, why I’m disturbed. It’s not that I’m against old people having sex.
(Well, except for one’s parents, as you might remember from a story I once told). (And I suppose this is especially true now, considering one of my parents is a corpse, but anyway). No, I’m just against them being so non-chalant and public about it. Especially public. I don’t want to see pictures of Hugh Hefner and his harem on his 80th birthday, I don’t want to see J Howard Marshall feeling up Anna Nicole, and I certainly don’t want to see Bob Dole in erectile dysfunction commercials.
But I get ahead of myself. Back to the show itself, and we’ll start with the previouslying. (Love that verb, btw, even if my using it comes with the price of having to © Landru. Back in my formative years, I was instructed not to verb nouns—probably at the same time I was taught to never split an infinitive—but since this involves nouning (or gerunding) an adverb, I’m gonna guess that Mrs. Krunk (she was my 7th grade English teacher; everyone wave at Mrs. Krunk, who might find this if she googles her name, unless she’s dead) won’t come after me all Freddy Kruger-like if I use it, right?)
So anyway, the previouslying. The story thus far: 5 teams. Greece, heading to Oman. Team Token getting testy. (And Frankenberry? not getting testes. See, this sort of thing just works into your subconscious and sticks there, leaving you no outlet but bad puns and subliminal references.) Ray cusses and Yomamma fusses. Everyone has to wade through the wadi.
Team Jermneric are surprised that the camel they must transport isn’t Joe, then decide to do some off-roading in the desert. Team Mojo is passed by Team Mofo (i.e. Frankenberry, ‘cept the Mo’ ain’t gettin’ much Fo at the moment—see, there it is again. *sigh*) on the way to the pit stop. BJ, squatting in the sun, can’t find squat in the sun, but his team avoids elimination because they are too entertaining to boot this is one of the pre-determined and damned (oops, sorry Yomamma; TOTALLY my bad) annoying non-elim legs. Phil: “Who will be eliminated next? And will Frankenberry ever get to have sex again?” Stay tuned, and cue the airplane/cloud thingy.
Commercials: You know, fast forwarding through these suckers produces some bizarre and disturbing mixtures. I think this one was about Catherine Zeta-Jones and Tom Selleck text-messaging the grass-drinking Bartles and James clones while taking their RV to dump the Travelocity gnome in the rainforest. Or something.
What did Jabreen me?
Back. Oh man, we’re staring in Oman at Jabreen Castle. BJ and Bear, as penalty for the non-elim, must continue the race without any money or worldly possessions. Yeah, that’ll hurt. Isn’t this sort of like forcing someone to go through life without their appendix? Or to make Jermneric give up their brains? Ray, his spine? Berry, his penis?
Phil wonders if Frankenberry will be able to maintain their lead. Berry muses that the other teams see them as real competitors now. They feel they’ve proven they have what it takes to finish this thing. This, in the first 20 seconds of the show, is enough to clue us in that these folks are buttered toast. (But Berry’s biscuit? not getting buttered)
Teams head to the airport, looking for a berth to Perth. Although this isn’t a scheduled detour, teams must choose to either leave money, or pretend to leave money in BJ and Bear’s car. Frankenberry choose to leave some. MoJo doesn’t want to give money to BJ; Mo would rather get money for a BJ.
They drive to Muscat, get stuck behind parade for King (directing traffic, left). After leaving some money for the hippies, Tokens say their arguing has gone from 1 –120 kilometers (kilometers? how unUhmercan of them). I of course would have gone for the simpler transportation metaphor to describe their relationship: trainwreck. They need to find the fun again in their relationship. Or, as T-Box would say, the funny. Very important in a relationship, the funny.
Jermneric give the hippies an IOU, once they figure out how to spell it. It’s a competition, they explain: just like getting into a girl’s pants, you gotta lie, cheat, steal. Or find someone stupid enough, like the Dani. (Let us pause a minute and remember the entertainment that was the Dani.) They think that even jackasses like them (not gonna lie; them’s their exact words) should be able to find the airport.
Everyone waits for King Caractacus to pass by. And his harem. And the fascinating witches, and the boys with the powder, etc. And if you actually GOT that, you must have attended the same lame camp as I growing up. My sincere sympathies.
Meanwhile, Team thirtysomething find the dough and vow revenge on the teams that left them with D’oh! They look forward to putting a few shrimp on the barbie. (Frankenberry? not getting the shrimp in the Barbie.)
Airport. And there is much parking, and milling, and ticket buying, and bunching. Back to the Hippies, and the hitchhiker they pick up along the way: Abdul the Bedouin. From the desert, in case you may have thought he was a Bedouin from England or something. (No joke: when my students read Oliver Twist one year, one of them kept referring to “that Arab Housekeeper.” I discreetly informed her that her NAME was MRS. Bedwin, not that she WAS a Bedouin. Yeah, that one was really paying attention as she listened to the movie.)
So anyway, Abdul. When he says he’s from the desert, BJ counters with “I’m from New Jersey.” (I’ll let our Estee-med readers from New Joisey insert any obvious jokes here.) BJ notes how much he, as an “American Bedouin,” has in common with Abdul, whoponies camels up for some traditional Bedouin food, Snickers and Fango juice, as they buy traditional Bedouin gas at the traditional Bedouin Kwik-E-Mart. They eschew the Muscat Love for some “Bedouin lovin,” or nose-kisses. (Frankenberry? Not getting some lovin’ in Bed-ouin—ok, I’ll stop now.)
Cut back to the Airport. And the bunching, and the boarding, and the stowing of backpacks, and the congratulating each other on the fact that Team thirtysomething will not make this flight. Just in case your irony meters are all turned off, they repeat the congratulating. No question about it. BJ and Bear will most definitely Not, under any circumstances, so help me Dog, one nation indivisible, forever and ever, Amen. Make. This. Flight.
Ok, so they make the flight. Sorry to give that away, I know you were all peeing your pants in suspense. But first, there is the matter of the traditional Bedouin commercials, after we find out that the T-mobile Play Hard, Get More team of week was BJ & Bear (Frankenberry? Not voted the Play More, Get Hard team. Ok, so I lied before about stopping. I’m in serious need of help, you all knew that. Anyway, commercials, again on fast-forward:)
Wes Anderson directs some saccharine Disney animals as they order Denny’s supreme bowl breakfast on their cellphones while sitting on Martha Stewart garden patio furniture and stopping bullets with numb3rs. Or something.
Hostel Takeover
And we’re back. With the boarding, and the gloating, and the fuming, and the gnashing of teeth.
BJ and Bear work the cabin, begging for money and exclaiming their catchphrase, “T’Pau” or something like that. Teams land in Perth and head for the State War Memorial. Because if there’s one thing Aussies are known for, it’s their victories in war.
Jermneric arrive first and learn that they must head via ferry to Rottnest island, home of the famous Rott Ness monster. MoJo quickly follows and both retain their taxis for the ferry. Teams Token and thirtysomething decide to take a bus to the ferry, evidently not being aware that on this show, people who choose public transportation over a taxi end up getting screwed. Frankenberry, not looking to get screwed (oops, sorry), keep their taxi.
The 3 taxied teams arrive to find (what a surprise) that they’ve missed the last ferry of the day (not sure about the last fairy), so they head to a nearby hostel, where they’ll have to share rooms. “I get the bottom” exclaims one half of Jermneric (damn’d if I know which) to his hostel roommies, evidently forgetting about the lying and cheating foreplay. “Sweet!” mumbles Jo to Mo. Or maybe it was “Suite!”
Frankenberry gets the Pleasure Dome, and (not having read their Kubla Khan) wonder what that means, all the while bemoaning how much this race has ruined their sex-lives. And we all collectively bemoan how much that comment, and the images it conjures, has ruined ours. But you already know my thoughts on this matter. And I have to interject here that, having spent a part of my wayward youth backpacking across Europe, hostels are certainly NOT the place to find people inhibited about having sex. Just sayin, is all.
Barry's the one on the left, though his Stately Pleasure Dome is almost cropped out.
The bus teams find a nice discreet hotel where sex is allowed and uninhibited, and there was evening and there was morning a second day.
Ok. Ferry? boarded. Island? reached. Bikes? tandem. Destination? to the Lighthouse. Mrs. Ramsay? dead. (And that? has to be the pinnacle of obscure jokes. What can I say. I’m a bitter ex-grad student, and writing only feeds my aggression.) Various posturing by teams. Frankenberry compliment themselves on how fit they are for this task. They can feel this thing within their grasp. (Toast, I tells ya.) (And notice how I skipped the obvious joke about what ELSE has been in Berry’s grasp. My gift to you, fair readers.) After a couple of miles, Yomamma finally figures out that their bike isn’t a PushmePullu.
Detour. The real one this time. Sand? or Sea? Sand: teams get to drag some branches along a beach and slap them onto a pile. (Yes, folks, this task involves a beach slap.) Sea: Teams must retrieve two crayfish from traps, or dive trying.
Jermneric choose Sea, as do MoJo. Animosity continues between Hippies and MoJo, with the 4th reference to a possible Yield in 20 minutes. I swear, sometimes this show has all the subtlety of a jackhammer. Hippies, Frankenberry and Tokens choose Sand.
Somewhere between clue and beach, MoJo gets lost. We learn that Jo cannot drink water and listen to Mo bitch at the same time. And there is much yelling, and crying, and Jonathan’nVictorianing. Frats think they look amazing in their Speedos, despite the obvious shrinkage. Oops, my bad doods, didn’t notice you hadn’t entered the water yet.
thirtysomethings are dragging, joined by Frankenberry. Actual dialogue from this segment:
Fran: Ooooooh. It’s so hard!
Barry: Way to go, babe!
Barry: I’ll just drop my load here, while you head back.
Never thought I’d say this, but I guess these people do need to get laid. And soon.
Frats get their fish, shut their traps and head toward Freemantle prison, where, unfortunately, the only thing arrested will be their development. MoJo arrives at the beach, and our hopes rise (not code) that we’ll get to see another bikini shot of Mo. Alas, no, it’s a modest one-piecer, leaving us to merely ponder what might-have-been. Which is as good of an excuse as any to show this again:
BJ and Bear do great with brush thing (they brush with greatness?) and finish 2nd. MoJo get one fish. Unfortunately, hungry Aussie tells them they need two fish, then red fish, then blue fish. No soup for him, yet. Frankenberry finish, and Mo has an Annie Hall moment. She exercises her Dog-given Consitutional right to be scared of an underwater creepy crawlie, as we head to:
CSI, on the case to determine why Johnny Damon, after finishing his OreIda fries and whitening with Listerine, drove Jennifer Lovesher Hewitts in his Kia Sportage into a Wal-Mart, staffed by gnomes. Or something
Are you Jailin'?
And we’re back. MoJo done with fishing thing, Tokens done with brush thang, and everyone’s back on the bikes. Jermneric board thefairy ferry (ya know, Freud would have a field day with this show) back to Freemantle just before it leaves. Hippies discover next departing ferry goes to Hillarys, not Bills, er Freemantle; they decide to board and taxi from there, to get a jump on other teams. Frankenberry order taxi via phone, which ultimately will not come. (… . . . . . .). Nice shot of Mo’s legs on the tandem: you know, she might be half crazy, but she sure does look sweet on the seat of a bicycle built for two. (Now just try and get that song out of your head. Just try.) (And, for a bit of not totally unrelated trivia, I’ve actually met Doug Rain, who was the voice of HAL. I’ll give you a minute while you follow that random connection.) Last three teams all bunched on 2nd ferry to Freemantle.
Jermneric hoof it to prison. MoJo orders a taxi. thirtysomethings start riding from Hillarys, get stuck in traffic. Franknberry can’t get a ride. (again: ... . . . . . .) Faux suspense as we head to:
CSI again, this time after Ethyl and Julius, who ruin a wedding by spreading squeezable mayonnaise on Sara Evans while she eats KFC, all captured on a Duracelled penguincam. Or something.
Back to the Roadblock, which as we all know, only one team member can perform: search for cell containing a flashlight and Duracells. (The ‘Cell in the cell? You know, for product placement, even that’s pretty bad.) Then boat or hike through underground tunnels to find clue.
As the teams arrive there is much searching, and whining, and whistleassing. Jermneric (whichever one is searching) can’t find Division 4, division evidently not being his thing.
Also, not having the flashlight yet, his bulb isn’t burning that brightly, either, since it takes him a while to think of actually looking inside the prison. He finds the light, then searches for the end of the tunnel. Some choice dialogue:
Jermneric #1: Maybe this outhouse leads to the tunnel thingy. Let me just climb down into its basement and take a look.
Jermneric #2: Good thing we have a lead, because my partner is a dumbass.
Jermneric #1: None of these doors even has a key hole. You know that I can’t get entry if I can’t find the hole, right? (Again, I choose to eschew the Frankenberry joke. You’re welcome.)
He continues to struggle, maybe because he’s missing a key piece of the prison map he cryptically tattooed on his chest before his incarceration.
MoJo arrives, then BJ and Bear. Mo reminds Jo to use his finely honed reading skills on the clue. Tyler tries to cooperate with Jo, gets dissed. Jermneric finds tunnel, chooses wet route, but has so much fun paddling he misses every single clue, and returns to dry tunnels. Yomamma and Fran complete the set, so now everybody is in prison. Jermneric finds the clue, meets Jo on the way out. He tries to mislead Jo by telling him to canoe (thinking that it might be harder), but Jo foils this plan by remember to search for the clue as he paddles. Jermneric and MoJo now headed to pitstop: a breakwater rock outcropping about a mile away at the Freemantle Sailing Club. Jermneric, still in dumbass mode, decide to walk, while MoJo’s taxi is still waiting, with meter running.
Cue more faux suspense as we wonder which team will arrive first? It’s Jermneric by a couple of seconds. Phil tells them, in that horribly dubbed voiceover of his, that they’ve won a trip to some hotel and spa in Hong Kong.
There is much rejoicing; someone needs to tell them that a facial doesn’t mean what they think it means. MoJo? gets bupkis (right).
Yomamma and Fran find light, Tyler and Yomamma find tunnel, with Fran close behind. (Berry? not close to Fran’s behind. Bet you thought I’d forgotten my run-into-the-ground bit, didn’tcha.) Tyler? out. Yomamma? out. Fran? out, hoping she’s not in last place. Jackhammer, I tells ya.
More taxiing, and hurrying, and red-lighting, and T'Pauing, and man-boobing. More faux suspense. thirtysomethings greeted by Phil, then Tokens.
Fran convinces herself she’s not gonna cry, as she heads sobbing to the mat. Phil: “I’m sorry to tell you you’ve been eliminated:
But the good news is, you can now go back and have hot monkey sex to your hearts content.” Fran closes by saying that she sees old people holding hands and thinks, “that’ll be us in 30 years.” No, I actually think this will be you in 30 years.
After commercials ( Over the Hedge animals having Hot Monkey Sex with Catherine Zeta Jones, a Gorilla using Ask.com to find someone to have Hot Monkey sex with, and Cerie and Shane having Hot Monkey Sex on the next Survivor. Or something. Sorry, this Frankenberry thing has really gotten to me.) we get the “nexttimeonTARring,” but you don’t need that, since I’m egregiously late with this thing, and you can already read Dweeze's fine recap. Thanks for your patience, and as always, thanks for reading. ¶ 10:12 PM
Frankenberry Finally Get to Bump and Grind
by GothmogWell here we are once again, me writing and you reading another one of our efforts here at CircleOf. Before I begin, though, I have to comment, or disclaim if you will, on what we all know to be the highlight, or lowlight of this particular episode—a frank and bare disclosure of Frankenberry’s sex-life, or lack thereof. Evidently, being on the Amazing Race has thrown some particularly nasty interruptus into their coitus. And since it’s been a while since the episode actually aired (completely my bad; life interfered for a bit), I’ve had a time to reflect on my feelings regarding the disturbing nature of this disclosure. Or more specifically, why I’m disturbed. It’s not that I’m against old people having sex.
(Well, except for one’s parents, as you might remember from a story I once told). (And I suppose this is especially true now, considering one of my parents is a corpse, but anyway). No, I’m just against them being so non-chalant and public about it. Especially public. I don’t want to see pictures of Hugh Hefner and his harem on his 80th birthday, I don’t want to see J Howard Marshall feeling up Anna Nicole, and I certainly don’t want to see Bob Dole in erectile dysfunction commercials.But I get ahead of myself. Back to the show itself, and we’ll start with the previouslying. (Love that verb, btw, even if my using it comes with the price of having to © Landru. Back in my formative years, I was instructed not to verb nouns—probably at the same time I was taught to never split an infinitive—but since this involves nouning (or gerunding) an adverb, I’m gonna guess that Mrs. Krunk (she was my 7th grade English teacher; everyone wave at Mrs. Krunk, who might find this if she googles her name, unless she’s dead) won’t come after me all Freddy Kruger-like if I use it, right?)
So anyway, the previouslying. The story thus far: 5 teams. Greece, heading to Oman. Team Token getting testy. (And Frankenberry? not getting testes. See, this sort of thing just works into your subconscious and sticks there, leaving you no outlet but bad puns and subliminal references.) Ray cusses and Yomamma fusses. Everyone has to wade through the wadi.
Team Jermneric are surprised that the camel they must transport isn’t Joe, then decide to do some off-roading in the desert. Team Mojo is passed by Team Mofo (i.e. Frankenberry, ‘cept the Mo’ ain’t gettin’ much Fo at the moment—see, there it is again. *sigh*) on the way to the pit stop. BJ, squatting in the sun, can’t find squat in the sun, but his team avoids elimination because Commercials: You know, fast forwarding through these suckers produces some bizarre and disturbing mixtures. I think this one was about Catherine Zeta-Jones and Tom Selleck text-messaging the grass-drinking Bartles and James clones while taking their RV to dump the Travelocity gnome in the rainforest. Or something.
What did Jabreen me?
Back. Oh man, we’re staring in Oman at Jabreen Castle. BJ and Bear, as penalty for the non-elim, must continue the race without any money or worldly possessions. Yeah, that’ll hurt. Isn’t this sort of like forcing someone to go through life without their appendix? Or to make Jermneric give up their brains? Ray, his spine? Berry, his penis?
Phil wonders if Frankenberry will be able to maintain their lead. Berry muses that the other teams see them as real competitors now. They feel they’ve proven they have what it takes to finish this thing. This, in the first 20 seconds of the show, is enough to clue us in that these folks are buttered toast. (But Berry’s biscuit? not getting buttered)
Teams head to the airport, looking for a berth to Perth. Although this isn’t a scheduled detour, teams must choose to either leave money, or pretend to leave money in BJ and Bear’s car. Frankenberry choose to leave some. MoJo doesn’t want to give money to BJ; Mo would rather get money for a BJ.
They drive to Muscat, get stuck behind parade for King (directing traffic, left). After leaving some money for the hippies, Tokens say their arguing has gone from 1 –120 kilometers (kilometers? how unUhmercan of them). I of course would have gone for the simpler transportation metaphor to describe their relationship: trainwreck. They need to find the fun again in their relationship. Or, as T-Box would say, the funny. Very important in a relationship, the funny.
Jermneric give the hippies an IOU, once they figure out how to spell it. It’s a competition, they explain: just like getting into a girl’s pants, you gotta lie, cheat, steal. Or find someone stupid enough, like the Dani. (Let us pause a minute and remember the entertainment that was the Dani.) They think that even jackasses like them (not gonna lie; them’s their exact words) should be able to find the airport.Everyone waits for King Caractacus to pass by. And his harem. And the fascinating witches, and the boys with the powder, etc. And if you actually GOT that, you must have attended the same lame camp as I growing up. My sincere sympathies.
Meanwhile, Team thirtysomething find the dough and vow revenge on the teams that left them with D’oh! They look forward to putting a few shrimp on the barbie. (Frankenberry? not getting the shrimp in the Barbie.)Airport. And there is much parking, and milling, and ticket buying, and bunching. Back to the Hippies, and the hitchhiker they pick up along the way: Abdul the Bedouin. From the desert, in case you may have thought he was a Bedouin from England or something. (No joke: when my students read Oliver Twist one year, one of them kept referring to “that Arab Housekeeper.” I discreetly informed her that her NAME was MRS. Bedwin, not that she WAS a Bedouin. Yeah, that one was really paying attention as she listened to the movie.)
So anyway, Abdul. When he says he’s from the desert, BJ counters with “I’m from New Jersey.” (I’ll let our Estee-med readers from New Joisey insert any obvious jokes here.) BJ notes how much he, as an “American Bedouin,” has in common with Abdul, who
Cut back to the Airport. And the bunching, and the boarding, and the stowing of backpacks, and the congratulating each other on the fact that Team thirtysomething will not make this flight. Just in case your irony meters are all turned off, they repeat the congratulating. No question about it. BJ and Bear will most definitely Not, under any circumstances, so help me Dog, one nation indivisible, forever and ever, Amen. Make. This. Flight.
Ok, so they make the flight. Sorry to give that away, I know you were all peeing your pants in suspense. But first, there is the matter of the traditional Bedouin commercials, after we find out that the T-mobile Play Hard, Get More team of week was BJ & Bear (Frankenberry? Not voted the Play More, Get Hard team. Ok, so I lied before about stopping. I’m in serious need of help, you all knew that. Anyway, commercials, again on fast-forward:)
Wes Anderson directs some saccharine Disney animals as they order Denny’s supreme bowl breakfast on their cellphones while sitting on Martha Stewart garden patio furniture and stopping bullets with numb3rs. Or something.
Hostel Takeover
And we’re back. With the boarding, and the gloating, and the fuming, and the gnashing of teeth.
BJ and Bear work the cabin, begging for money and exclaiming their catchphrase, “T’Pau” or something like that. Teams land in Perth and head for the State War Memorial. Because if there’s one thing Aussies are known for, it’s their victories in war.Jermneric arrive first and learn that they must head via ferry to Rottnest island, home of the famous Rott Ness monster. MoJo quickly follows and both retain their taxis for the ferry. Teams Token and thirtysomething decide to take a bus to the ferry, evidently not being aware that on this show, people who choose public transportation over a taxi end up getting screwed. Frankenberry, not looking to get screwed (oops, sorry), keep their taxi.
The 3 taxied teams arrive to find (what a surprise) that they’ve missed the last ferry of the day (not sure about the last fairy), so they head to a nearby hostel, where they’ll have to share rooms. “I get the bottom” exclaims one half of Jermneric (damn’d if I know which) to his hostel roommies, evidently forgetting about the lying and cheating foreplay. “Sweet!” mumbles Jo to Mo. Or maybe it was “Suite!”
Frankenberry gets the Pleasure Dome, and (not having read their Kubla Khan) wonder what that means, all the while bemoaning how much this race has ruined their sex-lives. And we all collectively bemoan how much that comment, and the images it conjures, has ruined ours. But you already know my thoughts on this matter. And I have to interject here that, having spent a part of my wayward youth backpacking across Europe, hostels are certainly NOT the place to find people inhibited about having sex. Just sayin, is all.
Barry's the one on the left, though his Stately Pleasure Dome is almost cropped out.
The bus teams find a nice discreet hotel where sex is allowed and uninhibited, and there was evening and there was morning a second day.
Ok. Ferry? boarded. Island? reached. Bikes? tandem. Destination? to the Lighthouse. Mrs. Ramsay? dead. (And that? has to be the pinnacle of obscure jokes. What can I say. I’m a bitter ex-grad student, and writing only feeds my aggression.) Various posturing by teams. Frankenberry compliment themselves on how fit they are for this task. They can feel this thing within their grasp. (Toast, I tells ya.) (And notice how I skipped the obvious joke about what ELSE has been in Berry’s grasp. My gift to you, fair readers.) After a couple of miles, Yomamma finally figures out that their bike isn’t a PushmePullu.
Detour. The real one this time. Sand? or Sea? Sand: teams get to drag some branches along a beach and slap them onto a pile. (Yes, folks, this task involves a beach slap.) Sea: Teams must retrieve two crayfish from traps, or dive trying.
Jermneric choose Sea, as do MoJo. Animosity continues between Hippies and MoJo, with the 4th reference to a possible Yield in 20 minutes. I swear, sometimes this show has all the subtlety of a jackhammer. Hippies, Frankenberry and Tokens choose Sand.
Somewhere between clue and beach, MoJo gets lost. We learn that Jo cannot drink water and listen to Mo bitch at the same time. And there is much yelling, and crying, and Jonathan’nVictorianing. Frats think they look amazing in their Speedos, despite the obvious shrinkage. Oops, my bad doods, didn’t notice you hadn’t entered the water yet.
thirtysomethings are dragging, joined by Frankenberry. Actual dialogue from this segment:
Fran: Ooooooh. It’s so hard!
Barry: Way to go, babe!
Barry: I’ll just drop my load here, while you head back.
Never thought I’d say this, but I guess these people do need to get laid. And soon.
Frats get their fish, shut their traps and head toward Freemantle prison, where, unfortunately, the only thing arrested will be their development. MoJo arrives at the beach, and our hopes rise (not code) that we’ll get to see another bikini shot of Mo. Alas, no, it’s a modest one-piecer, leaving us to merely ponder what might-have-been. Which is as good of an excuse as any to show this again:
BJ and Bear do great with brush thing (they brush with greatness?) and finish 2nd. MoJo get one fish. Unfortunately, hungry Aussie tells them they need two fish, then red fish, then blue fish. No soup for him, yet. Frankenberry finish, and Mo has an Annie Hall moment. She exercises her Dog-given Consitutional right to be scared of an underwater creepy crawlie, as we head to:
CSI, on the case to determine why Johnny Damon, after finishing his OreIda fries and whitening with Listerine, drove Jennifer Lovesher Hewitts in his Kia Sportage into a Wal-Mart, staffed by gnomes. Or something
Are you Jailin'?
And we’re back. MoJo done with fishing thing, Tokens done with brush thang, and everyone’s back on the bikes. Jermneric board the
Jermneric hoof it to prison. MoJo orders a taxi. thirtysomethings start riding from Hillarys, get stuck in traffic. Franknberry can’t get a ride. (again: ... . . . . . .) Faux suspense as we head to:
CSI again, this time after Ethyl and Julius, who ruin a wedding by spreading squeezable mayonnaise on Sara Evans while she eats KFC, all captured on a Duracelled penguincam. Or something.
Back to the Roadblock, which as we all know, only one team member can perform: search for cell containing a flashlight and Duracells. (The ‘Cell in the cell? You know, for product placement, even that’s pretty bad.) Then boat or hike through underground tunnels to find clue.
As the teams arrive there is much searching, and whining, and whistleassing. Jermneric (whichever one is searching) can’t find Division 4, division evidently not being his thing.
Also, not having the flashlight yet, his bulb isn’t burning that brightly, either, since it takes him a while to think of actually looking inside the prison. He finds the light, then searches for the end of the tunnel. Some choice dialogue:
Jermneric #1: Maybe this outhouse leads to the tunnel thingy. Let me just climb down into its basement and take a look.Jermneric #2: Good thing we have a lead, because my partner is a dumbass.
Jermneric #1: None of these doors even has a key hole. You know that I can’t get entry if I can’t find the hole, right? (Again, I choose to eschew the Frankenberry joke. You’re welcome.)
He continues to struggle, maybe because he’s missing a key piece of the prison map he cryptically tattooed on his chest before his incarceration.
MoJo arrives, then BJ and Bear. Mo reminds Jo to use his finely honed reading skills on the clue. Tyler tries to cooperate with Jo, gets dissed. Jermneric finds tunnel, chooses wet route, but has so much fun paddling he misses every single clue, and returns to dry tunnels. Yomamma and Fran complete the set, so now everybody is in prison. Jermneric finds the clue, meets Jo on the way out. He tries to mislead Jo by telling him to canoe (thinking that it might be harder), but Jo foils this plan by remember to search for the clue as he paddles. Jermneric and MoJo now headed to pitstop: a breakwater rock outcropping about a mile away at the Freemantle Sailing Club. Jermneric, still in dumbass mode, decide to walk, while MoJo’s taxi is still waiting, with meter running.
Cue more faux suspense as we wonder which team will arrive first? It’s Jermneric by a couple of seconds. Phil tells them, in that horribly dubbed voiceover of his, that they’ve won a trip to some hotel and spa in Hong Kong.
There is much rejoicing; someone needs to tell them that a facial doesn’t mean what they think it means. MoJo? gets bupkis (right).Yomamma and Fran find light, Tyler and Yomamma find tunnel, with Fran close behind. (Berry? not close to Fran’s behind. Bet you thought I’d forgotten my run-into-the-ground bit, didn’tcha.) Tyler? out. Yomamma? out. Fran? out, hoping she’s not in last place. Jackhammer, I tells ya.
More taxiing, and hurrying, and red-lighting, and T'Pauing, and man-boobing. More faux suspense. thirtysomethings greeted by Phil, then Tokens.
Fran convinces herself she’s not gonna cry, as she heads sobbing to the mat. Phil: “I’m sorry to tell you you’ve been eliminated:
But the good news is, you can now go back and have hot monkey sex to your hearts content.” Fran closes by saying that she sees old people holding hands and thinks, “that’ll be us in 30 years.” No, I actually think this will be you in 30 years.After commercials ( Over the Hedge animals having Hot Monkey Sex with Catherine Zeta Jones, a Gorilla using Ask.com to find someone to have Hot Monkey sex with, and Cerie and Shane having Hot Monkey Sex on the next Survivor. Or something. Sorry, this Frankenberry thing has really gotten to me.) we get the “nexttimeonTARring,” but you don’t need that, since I’m egregiously late with this thing, and you can already read Dweeze's fine recap. Thanks for your patience, and as always, thanks for reading. ¶ 10:12 PM
