Official My Big Fat Fiancé Episode 2 Summary – So I’m Engaged To An Axe Murderer
by anotherkim and I_AM_HE
Act I: Recrap
Steve (watching tape): Remind me to send a Thank You card to FOX for playing all my Best Actor performances two or three times before we got to this week’s show. Or at least make a collect phone call. You should see how little the cheap bastards paid me for putting up with this crap, I mean carp, I mean crap.
What’s that? Oh, right. My first impressions of Randi? Rockin’ bod. Yes, Jon Dalton said the same thing about Nicole Delma, and no, it’s hardly any more accurate this time.
So we’re introducing ourselves and I said, ‘Randi, huh? That’s kind of a weird name for a chick. My name’s Steve, but everyone here calls me Vicky.’ Crickets chirped. Man, what crawled up this chick’s ass? It’s like she doesn’t know I’m an actor and it’s all a joke. Don’t worry babe, America’s laughing at you, not with you.
So, I’m supposed to drive her crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once. But, I digress. My goal is to work her up so much that she ends every private confessional with a psychotic Howard Dean scream. I smash things (My dream role was always Godzilla. At last, I have arrived), drink milk straight from the carton, squeeze the toothpaste from the middle of the tube, leave the toilet seat up, and the bed unmade; all the things you would expect would annoy a tight-assed b!tch like Randi who’s pretending to get married to a fat, obnoxious slob for a bunch of money. Then I did the Naked Dance (it’s the next Macarena, kids) at the spa…
Steve: <William Shatner impersonation> Come. Out. And. See. The. Naked. Dance. </Shatner> I was naked just then…very nude.
I was only able to get past the Truth in Advertising laws because my tighty whities were virtually sucked into my abundant girth. If I couldn’t scar Randi for life with that image, you, dear reader, will do. I followed that up with my tour de force, a drunken plea for her to join me in the hot tub. Never let it be said that I am unable to play a dramatic role:
‘Randi, Randi, wherefore art thou, Randi?
What wind in yonder hot tub breaks?
It is a fart, from Steve large as the sun.’
Drunk and horny, I moaned her name a few more times, proving they should have named my character Randy. She can be Steve.
Randi: Hi, My name is Randi Coy. I keep reliving last night in my mind hoping that whatever drug I was on when I signed on for this project has worn off, but it hadn't. I'm still there, he's still there and I'd rather not think about the details. I'm here for the money. I'll do just about anything for the money. I have no shame. I hope my family feels the same.
Randi: This is a business deal.
Steve: Suddenly she thinks she’s Brian Heidik. Honey, I know Brian Heidik, and you’re no Brian Heidik. Although I suppose you may have a similar acting career in your future.
Act II: What is this “Brunch” you speak of?
Randi: When I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was reach for the bottle beside the bed and clutch it for dear life. God, I wish it had been something stronger than water. I felt like I had a hangover, and I am sure I looked just as rough. I'm not the kind of girl that is "naturally" pretty. It takes a lot of work to create the full Randi effect, so I had to get up and get going. Black eyeliner is my best friend in times of trouble, so I applied about twice as much as the regular person would. I needed my strength as I went down to face Steve again. I couldn't get the sound of his singing out of my head. The hot tub scene from the night before has scarred me for life.
Steve: Boy, am I glad I didn’t get her in bed after all. Talk about Coyote Ugly. Yeesh.
So, our objective today is to wear down her unease a little so we can hit her again later. A little rope-a-dope, if you will. Picking a bouquet of flowers from the centerpiece on the table (nothing’s too good for my sweetheart) as a peace offering, I meet her in the courtyard for brunch. After a half-assed apology for my behavior last night, I tell her I’m not going to touch the champagne they left on the table. Well, maybe just a sip. I can stop anytime I like.
Talking with my mouth full, I begin to pile on the pet names. Sweetheart, Love of my Life, Light of my Eye. She says no pet names, just Randi thankyouverymuch. I note that if we’re supposed to be a couple, we’ll be expected to call each other Sweetheart, and Honeycomb, and Sugar Smacks, and Frosted Flakes…Cinnabon…Krispy Kream….mmmm…Oh, sorry, I got distracted there. I’ll wear her down eventually. She still refuses. ‘It’s not like I’m trying to sleep with you. Even though I would. You like to roleplay? Ever play pirates? You can call me Cap’n Crunch. Rowwwwr!’ She stares blankly. This chick needs a sex therapist. Fortunately, we’ve got one ready, but that’s the grand finale for today.
Randi: At breakfast, Steve hadn't changed. I had hoped that they would pull some sort of groom-switch, but nothing. He was still there, looking as Steve-like as ever, only hungover. He starts in immediately with the apology. He is trying soooooooooo hard to impress me. Poor guy is OBVIOUSLY infatuated with me. I let him think that it's all going to be okay and I even sort of smile at him. Then it's time to face breakfast. The idiotic producers have provided more champagne. As if this lout needs MORE alcohol? He assures me he won't drink any and then proceeds to slug down the entire glass in one gulp. My mother would die, and if the champagne guzzling at 9 a.m. didn't kill her, his incessant chomping of food and gabbing with his mouth loaded would. It is like sitting at a table with Jabba the Hutt. And then he is surprised when I can't go along with his plan to call me Hon or Sweetheart? Give me break. He's smacking his lips, chewing and saying, "Love of My Life." I am forced to give him one of my trademark withering looks. The one where my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as I draw my jaw back tightly and strain my facial muscles.. It has a chilling effect on people. Steve? He doesn't seem to notice. He just claims he isn't trying to sleep with me. Yeah, right, buddy.
Steve: Our hostess, whose-name-isn’t-really-important-and-is-about-as-useless-as-the-hostess-from-Joe-Millionaire, comes out to tell us that today we’ll be meeting with a real wedding planner to pick out the cake, the flowers, and make all the preparations that a real couple would make for a real wedding. As she leaves, I tell the Ice Queen that the hostess is pretty hot, and that maybe I’ll try and hook up with her after the show is over. But no, her name’s still not important.
Randi: Then we get out assignment. Hang out with the wedding planner. Act like a married couple. We can do this. Surely, we can do this. I mean, come on, Steve, this is not hard. Then he actually makes a comment about trying to hook up with her after the show and I realize that he is, in fact, delusional and quite probably insane. It's going to be a long, long day.
Act III: Love Potion #9
Steve: We meet our wedding planner, Jill. She’s pretty hot too. I wonder if Randi would like a threesome. She takes us outside to tables full of cakes and wine and appetizers. I take a bite of the sushi and proceed to spit it out and say it’s gross, although it was truly delicious. I may have gotten obnoxious by spitting out food, but I certainly didn’t get big and fat that way. I did feel bad for the chef, because he didn’t know I was acting (which brings the total up to 2). That said, an angry chef is as good comedy as playing with your food.
Randi: We weren't there 10 minutes before Steve's true colors began to shine. I cannot imagine what those caterers were thinking. There is no way that they would believe that I would be attracted to someone like...like...well, like the guy who turns around and hocks up a mouth full of tuna on the lawn. How incredibly rude. I'm sitting there with 4 different samples on a plate, trying to act like I know what the hell I'm doing, and he does THAT?
Steve: Deciding sushi-spitting wasn’t annoying enough, I shove cake in Randi’s face. I inquire as to making the little Bride-and-Groom cake topper look like us. Jill’s unnamed assistant says she can do that, but Randi is opposed to the whole idea. Which I guess makes sense; I’m going to make sure that by the end of this she’ll have too many indelible memories with or without any tangible proof. Throughout the whole affair, I call her Honey, and she can’t do anything about it. Hey, if she won’t call me Vicky, why should I call her Randi?
Randi: Then, the cake. OMG, the cake. He actually wants a cake topper because it would be great for the memories. Let's see. Is there anything any more white trash than a cake topper? I'm not going to have my wedding spoiled with some cheesy plastic bride and groom and I am sure as HELL not going to have a replica of Steve in the mix. I put my foot down. I said, "I don't want any memories from this." He seemed almost hurt, but it had to be said. I can't just keep stringing him along, now can I?
Steve: We then sample the wine. Jill’s second unnamed assistant asks us what kind of wine we drink at home. I tell her the kind in the box. I command her to fill my wineglass to the top and then bring me some peeled grapes. I swish the wine around in my mouth, and then, in true sommelier fashion, since I forgot my Listerine this morning and want minty-fresh breath before we kiss, begin to gargle it for the requisite sixty seconds. Unnamed Assistant #2 then hits us with the Love Potion, named after the Greek god of love, and hits Randi with a hammer between the eyes by saying she has to kiss me or face the WRATH OF THE GODS!!! This pronouncement makes Randi’s face contort like she were drinking tap water rather than Evian, but she realizes she is trapped and allows a quick smooch.
Steve: Randi…kiss me.
Act IV: Dress to Distress
Randi: From there, we went to try on the dresses and tux. I have to say, they had some gorgeous dresses there. Everyone of them looked AMAZING on me. I wish I could say the same for Steve. He's just a huge nightmare. I doubt he's ever had a tux on in his life. He flirts with the dressing room assistant.
Steve: I’m looking good! I’ve got a girl in my dressing room with me, I hope you’re not jealous. Heather! Stop it!
Does he think I would care? Poor girl. I can't imagine being in there with him while he changes clothes over and over. And he won't shut up yelling back and forth to me:
Steve: I believe I ordered the LARGE cummerbund? HELLO! Honey, I’m too fat for the cummerbund!
No way. Is that possible? Is there anyone THAT fat? Those things are moveable, right?
Steve: So I exit the dressing room in neon pink bow tie and cummerbund, designed to show how sizzling hot I am. Like bacon. Or back fat. Randi is so entranced, all she can say is “It’s you.”
Randi: Time for tux and gown #2. He STILL won’t shut up.
Steve: You’re going to like this one honey. Representing the Dairy Farmers of America!
He was wearing a polka dot cummerbund. WTF? Why would he even think I'd like that one?? I'm kind of wondering what the too small one looked like now. I can’t get back in the dressing room fast enough, but soon his verbal assault resumes:
Steve: Are you naked right now? <singing> I’m in the mood for looooooove!!!
I'm really not sure that $250,000 is enough.
Then he starts complimenting me. "That’s a wow", which was nice, but I really started feel guilty. I mean, you know, I want to play wedding with someone that I am romantically involved with. That just isn't possible with someone like Steve, but then he really started being affected by the moment and getting into it.
Steve: She’s concerned that my character is going to fall for her, so that’s the road we went down.
When we had picked our favorite tux and gown, we came out to find a string quartet and our nameless hostess proposed that we share our first dance. She steps on Randi’s train though, probably hoping it comes off and she gets to dance with me instead. Yep, I’m irresistible.
So we start to dance, but then! I start to act all emotional to turn the tables on her. I choke up, ask the quartet to stop, and walk outside to have a good laugh.
Randi: When we had to dance, I was kind of grossed out. Steve was sweaty from all that physical effort and the last thing I wanted was his hands on my back, but we faked it pretty good. Then he became so emotional and just ran from the room. He's in love with me. I knew it would happen and now he just can't handle the fact that it isn't for real. I almost felt sorry for him. I was so close to tears, but my eyeliner would have been a mess in front of all those strangers.
Act V: She’s making a list and checking it twice
Steve: On a drizzly morning, I slipped a note under her door to meet me outside at the pavilion for truce talks to make sure we didn’t scare her off.
Finally she comes outside, but stops well out of arm’s reach. Drugging her won’t work, so I switch to Plan B. Spinning my black and white umbrella, I begin to hypnotize her, telling her she’s so totally not my type. I like Asian chicks. And I’m not sure whose type she’d be exactly, anyway.
Randi: Steve and I had a very important meeting this morning. I was prepared with my list of rules. It was time we got back to basics. I also felt that it was very important that I let him down once and for all. When we met, it went well. He let me tell him how it was going to be and he basically agreed with everything I told him. He told me that he wasn't in love with me and came up with some lame excuse that Asian women were his type. I think he just realized that he can't possibly have anything real with me last night, but whatever it takes, I'll play along.
Steve: Then she broke out the list. No ‘Honey,’ no kissing, no holding hands, no eye contact, no coming within 100 feet without my parole officer, you know, the usual. She tells me that none of that stuff will fly with her parents who know her for the frigid b!tch she is, I tell her I think we’re going to have to try and play it more real if we want to win the money. Dollar signs fill her eyes and she promises to try and meet me half way.
Steve: I say stupid stuff all the time.
Randi: I know.
Steve: I don’t know how to handle myself. I mean, I’ve only been in a six-month relationship.
Randi: I think that you think I’m the most tight-assed little girl…
Steve: Pretty much, yep.
Randi: But I’m really fun! Why won’t any of the other kids play with me?!
I suggest we high-five on the deal, she suggests knuckles, apparently wanting to keep the surface contact to an absolute minimum.
Randi: I told him how much fun I can be. What a total dork I am in real life and we decided to just have fun with the whole thing. We did knuckles to seal the deal and headed back to the house. My stiletto heeled boots held up pretty well in the soaking wet turf. I hope they have a good gardner to replace those divots.
Act VI: Like a Virgin
Steve: With my mission accomplished, we headed in for breakfast. I was back in her good graces, so it was now up to me to see how fast I could get out of them. I took my napkin and made a Madonna bra. She took her face and made a WTF? expression. Ahhh, we were made for each other.
Our hostess comes in and drops a 500 pound ACME anvil on Randi’s head: we’re going to see a sex therapist to talk about our **air quotes** sex lives **air quotes** She tells us to use our imagination to think about what we’d say if we actually had been intimate with each other. Randi looks like her imagination isn’t that good. Or maybe it’s too good.
Randi: At breakfast, Steve blew my mind by making a bra out of his napkin. All I could do was just stare one of my really withering stares at him in total disbelief. Then the Hostess came in and said something about a sex therapist. I honestly can't remember anything past that. I've blocked it from my memory. The idea of Steve and me doing.............................All I can say is not a chance in hell.
Steve: Fortunately, we’ve got it all on tape to refresh your memory, Honeybunch.
Debra Mandel, PH.D, asked us if we have spent some time being intimate, and I tell her “Oh yeah! She’s a filly!” Randi looks like she might throw up. Motion sickness, you know.
Dr. Ruth: If you could share what is the perfect romantic evening, what would that look like?
Randi: About 100 pounds lighter.
Steve: I would like to go out camping or on the beach somewhere where we don’t have to worry about people hearing us and get animal-like or whatever. Roowwwrrr!
Dr. Ruth (watching Randi’s reaction): I sense a disturbance in the force.
Randi: He can go be his elephant self somewhere other than my bed. I’m a Catholic Schoolteacher!
Steve: Once you get her behind closed doors, she’s more Catholic Schoolgirl ifyaknowwhatimean!
Dr. Ruth: What are your favorite parts of your body to be touched?
Randi: Legs, and hips, and waist…but…
Dr. Ruth: Moving right along. Steve, closing arguments?
Steve: Sometimes when I get home from work, I’m tired, and I just want to, you know, have some ********
Dr. Ruth: Nine times out of ten, Steve, if you package that correctly, there’s a good chance your spouse is going to want to comply.
Randi: Fat chance, Fat Boy.
Dr. Ruth: Let’s work on sincerity. Try that one more time.
Randi: I was being sincere.
Dr. Ruth: I meant Steve.
Steve: Honey, I love you, I appreciate you, let’s ****. Now.
Dr. Ruth: I truly wish you the best of luck (translation: there’s nothing I can do for this relationship but give you the name of a good divorce lawyer).
Act VII: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
Steve: In the kitchen, we’re eating snacks when Hostess comes in and informs us that we’re about to enter a new chapter. One of our loved ones is waiting for us at the pavilion. Randi looks confused, and I can understand, because I can’t imagine who could possibly love her either.
Randi: What kind of loved one?
Hostess: Someone you know very well, and someone who knows you very well.
Whew, so it’s not one of those Total Stranger Loved Ones, that’s a relief.
Hostess: Randi, it’s your best friend Anna.
Hostess explains that she will meet Anna for drinks and appetizers and spend an hour alone with her, and she must tell her that she has fallen in love and gotten engaged. At the end of which I will join her for dinner.
Hostess: There’s no more room for error. If you cannot convince her to come to your wedding, you walk away with nothing. Understand?
Randi: When the Hostess came and told me Anna was here, I could have died. She knows me so well. She is my best friend in the whole wide world. We've been best friends since like junior high. Some people who know us? They say we haven't changed a bit since then. This will be the hardest sell of all. I mean, she's seen all of my dates. She knows every detail about my sex life and as soon as she sees Steve, she'll KNOW we never had sex. I mean, I would have been killed in most of my favorite positions. I worry about this as I change into a sparkly turquoise sweater that looks like it came from KMart, but it was really actually very expensive. Some people would say that the color washes me out and turns my skin kind of green, but I think I look really hot in it.
Anna is in the gazebo waiting. Over appetizers, I tell her as little as I can. I play Steve up as a really great guy. It's really hard to come up with anything good to say. I mean, he doesn't even have a good personality, ya know? Anna is excited for me. When I show her the ring, I can tell she's jealous. It is gorgeous. I hope I get to keep it. The producers should throw that in. I need to talk to them about it. I could have it reset in a pendant or a different type of ring. Some sort of right hand ring. Those are really fashionable right now.
Anyway, I tell Anna that Steve is just "completely amazing." That's not a lie, right? I'll worry about the details when I see which version of Steve shows up for dinner. I really hope someone helped him get ready. Maybe brushed his hair for him and gave him some Stridex. His face gets really oily as the day goes on. I go ahead and prepare her for him a little by telling her that he's sooooo not someone I'd be with. A horrible flashback of the bellowing whale in the hotub comes to mind. I just keep on smiling and giggling. She's so excited to see him....then Steve comes up the walk. I can tell by the look on Anna's face that this is going to waaaaaaaaaay harder than I thought.
- with apologies for the tardiness