This is my punishment, isn't it?

Honestly -- what did I do that was so horrible? If you kill a half-dozen people, they just send you to jail for a while, or put you up in a nice bed-and-breakfast-and-pills vacation home until you feel sorry about it, and maybe once in a great while they'll say 'You know what you need? A nap,' and put you out for -- well, you do wake up eventually, but then you have to go through the whole diaper thing again, which isn't so much a punishment as it is really, really premature. And don't even get me started on Gerber. Yuck!

But you kill a half-dozen reality shows, and what do you get? You get sentenced to the entire season of The Surreal Life. Your day begins with Janice, ends with Janice, and in between, you may be subjected to random searches, confiscation of what little sanity you have left, and sudden attacks of Janice. You're locked in a circus tent with seven Q-list clowns, and clowns are never funny, clowns are just there to show you what funny is because once you eliminate what a clown is doing, anything left is hilarious just from relief. You're placed in close proximity to Voldemort, have to deal with what Bronson thinks are his brilliant lines, the only reading material provided is an indestructible copy of Jose's book (and believe me, I've tried), and did I mention Janice? I could have sworn I'd mentioned Janice. It's the sort of thing that you'd generally have to bring up, especially during an international trial concerning the abuse of prisoners. Amnesty! Amnesty International! Send cookies! Send newspapers! Send tapes of Hell's Kitchen, which I would have volunteered for if I thought it was going to be any good at all, I swear! I'm reformed! I'm sorry for what I did! From now on, I'll make it my life's work to become a network executive and make sure the interesting stuff dies before it even gets on the air! Just let me out of here --

-- I could have sworn that counted for reforming...

(sigh) Oh, look. It's my weekly conjugal videotape. I guess it's time to be officially (censored) by reality television again.

So: Last week on There's Laws Against This, You Know, the housemates were told to take it off, take practically all of it off, which came within three seconds of causing Janice's final decapitation before the producers explained that they'd meant an old-fashioned burlesque show, plus that wasn't where Janice was keeping her brains anyway. The group was split into two teams competing for the usual budgeted reward of the series -- absolutely nothing -- with Janice, Caprice, and Jose as America The Booty-Ful, going against Voldemort, Carey, and Sandi on the Westward Hos. (Bronson kept his clothes on and read their names off a cue card, for which we were mostly thankful, expecting the 'listening to Bronson's read-aloud monotone' thing.) Janice, in keeping with the only tradition we've developed this season, fake-quit because she's a parent and didn't want to traumatize innocent children who might be watching the show by subjecting them to the sight of her stitch lines. (This was, of course, completely pointless. There are no innocent children watching the show. At least, after three seconds of viewing time, they weren't innocent any more.) Eventually, after an emergency ego-stroke that required the full breadth of Sandi's parenting skills plus a lot of not-water, Janice was persuaded to go out on stage and do what she did best. Surprisingly, the audience did not respond well to being flipped off, and the Hos won this week's share of nothing, which increases their chances of getting the grand prize at the end of the show: a lifetime supply of zilch, also known as 'you mean you've never heard of direct-to-airplane projects?' Voldemort returned to the Estate and found bad news waiting there: her best friend's father had died. Voldy immediately went into crisis control mode by getting on the phone with her friend and staying there for as long as it took to help her friend deal with the grief. Naturally, this took a backseat to Janice's plans for calling all her imaginary friends and ordering her housemates' immediate deaths, so a fight ensued where it turned out that Janice doesn't understand death: she only makes people wish for it. And everyone evacuated the small bedroom, leaving Jose on the couch, five housemates in one bedroom, and Janice all by herself in the other, because after all, it's all about Janice, and that includes exposure to her carbon monoxide production.

What will the housemates do this week? Is anyone going to stake a definitive claim to Jose's rear? Will Sandi and Carey glance at each other, say 'Why are we the only sane people here?', and leave immediately? Will Voldemort finally experience a backslide, or are we going to start trotting out the name 'Tom Riddle' any summary now? How long will it take Janice to fake-quit today? And why am I still subjecting myself to this torture?

Because it's better than flirting with the guards. Roll opening credits.

Day Four dawns bright and early in the Surreal Estate, and most of the house seems to have gotten a good night's sleep -- excluding Janice. As Voldy confessional-tells us, 'She's allergic to herself' -- back in mainstream, Janice coughs twice in her sleep -- because when you have that many artificial components in your person, the few remaining organics are going to react badly to at least one of them. So Janice wakes up in her usual mood -- and if you have to ask what that is, hello! Welcome to the series! Run! -- which means that her soul slaves had better be very careful to produce some even layering today. There was a hint of skeleton peeking out at the burlesque club, and someone's going to pay for it. But honestly, with all they have to do every morning, who can remember to screw an eyeball all the way in?

Janice c-ts her love of waking up all by herself. Don't worry, Janice. No one who sees you on this show would ever dream of taking that pleasure away from you.

Jose got an exceptionally good night's sleep thanks to a brand-new experience that Caprice and the camera are only too happy to point out. The pantyhose from the burlesque show? He never took them off. He feels very comfortable in them, feeling they're just like wearing thin knee-high socks. He's even stuck a spare tube of Chapstick down one of them, which is generally a little low for a man to be carrying a spare tube of Chapstick, but never mind that. This is an extension of the 6'4", 260 rule: when you're 6'4" and weigh 260 pounds, people generally let you make your own fashion decisions. Carey spots this immediately and figures no one's going to say much of anything about it. This still excludes Janice, who takes some mainstream time to tell him 'Good morning, gorgeous' and a little c-t to say Jose looks 'a little Village People-esque.' (As opposed to Janice, who looks a little Village Of The Living Damned-esque.) 'From two World Series to drag queen.' Which is just silly. Just because Jose can't figure out how to get the eye makeup off and feels comfortable in stockings, it doesn't make him a drag queen. It just makes him better-looking than, just pulling out an example at random here, Janice. Next up on Jose's voyage of discovery: the joys of bikini waxing!

Four hours later (translation: after Janice's makeup team has come, given up two pints of blood each, and gone), the daily edition of The Surreal Times is delivered. It's Caprice's day to fetch it -- along with a tool box, seven pairs of work boots, and just as many construction hardhats. The house meeting is called about five seconds later.

'Surreal Makeover team to undertake major renovation,' Caprice reads to the others. Bronson's response is immediate and predictable -- 'No, no, no, no, no...' Caprice takes a few seconds to assure him that Janice is done for the day and no touch-ups should be required until sometime around lunch. Bronson's response is just as immediate and even more predictable. Bronson just doesn't want to do anything the Times tells him to do. He only wants to do whatever he's been told not to do. This is why I keep forbidding him to drop dead.

Caprice continues to read. The housemates will be leaving the Estate and heading out to a day of hard labor. Voldemort, due to her extensive experience in managing the forces of darkness, will be in charge of Getting Things Done. (Bronson's response: 'No, no, no, no, no...' -- or did you see that coming?) And to find out what they'll be doing and why, all they have to do is play the videotape from the toolbox. The cast turns their attention to the television, Caprice inserts the tape, and the show briefly goes unbashable.

The assignment is to renovate the backyard of the Jenesse Center house: a shelter for battered women and their children. (It's the oldest one in Los Angeles, housing five hundred women -- or more -- each year. If this doesn't depress you, go out and get some fresh air.) The tape leads off with images of some of the residents, taken on the day they arrived. No bruises, cuts, bloodstained clothes, or open wounds have been covered for your visual protection. These are people who have been through hell, and they've earned a little patch of heaven. And while the housemates are exactly the wrong people to try and create that sort of thing, they also happen to be all the shelter has. The backyard as it currently stands is completely unfit for having fun: dead grass and rock-hard earth. They'll have to turn it into something more child-suitable, as well as giving the mothers a place to sit and watch their children play.

Janice recoils in horror from the screen. Those poor, bloodstained pieces of clothing, with no expensive dry cleaning to take care of them...

Bronson's having an adverse reaction of his own, but his is based in memory. A somber c-t reveals Bronson as the product of an abusive home, with a father who regularly tried to beat his mother on those occasions when he didn't just go directly after Bronson. This is sad. This is depressing. This is an incredible pity. (Why couldn't it have been Janice's father?) Sandi, the strongest empath in the house, immediately starts to gently rub Bronson's back. This is also unbashable. It's probably even sexual harassment, but let's not tell Bronson.

The tape ends, and Voldemort starts gearing up for the task. She's thrilled to be in charge because she does a lot of volunteer work: it's a good way to meet people who are at the absolute end of their rope and ready to sacrifice everything they once believed in for a little bit of power. The chance to make a few new contacts and get some sigils carved into the landscaping appeals to her. So Voldy's going to make sure everyone does everything the Voldy way, and if that means someone has to suffer through excruciating pain to get the job done, so be it. (It'll probably just be me.)

Caprice distributes the equipment, and everyone gears up for the job. Work boots are donned. Hardhats are put on. (Voldemort even puts one on, because they're going to be working outdoors and one falling leaf could take her out of the action for three weeks, baring sudden relapses at the sight of pickup basketball games.) Jose puts on his official Surreal Life construction crew purple shirt, although the camera doesn't bother showing whether he took off the pantyhose or not. Caprice sings 'Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho' as she leads the Seven DAWs out to the van. Jose c-t worries about their being unqualified to do the work, which really shouldn't bother Jose because he was unqualified to dispense medications and he did that anyway, right? And Janice c-t declares her readiness to face the next fake-quit. 'Fourteen inches of makeup, blue eyeshadow, hair done, fake extensions, you know -- bring it.' Just in case you were wondering what took four hours to do every morning. And remember: that fourteen inches is working from the bone up.

The van makes its way through Los Angeles in broad daylight and gets some notice: a man is spotted staring at it from the sidewalk. Janice decides to reward his pointless efforts at spoiling the show by giving him a view that only eighty thousand men have had before him. To wit, she pulls down her pants, sticks her rear out the window, and spanks herself a few times. (I had to watch that. I will be watching that in my nightmares for the rest of this incarnation and at least the next three. Just read the sentence. Don't try to picture it. And if you actually go and watch one of VH1's six billion weekly repeats, don't say I didn't warn you.) This is a woman who wouldn't do burlesque because she's a parent and in her world, parents just shouldn't do that sort of thing. But sticking your rear out the window is just fine and her children will be okay with it, especially since she only taught them how to do it the week before she left and the visual will help them refine their technique. Did I mention she was wearing a very tiny thong that would normally be too small to use as dental floss? No? Too late. But this is Los Angeles, so all that happens is a few sidewalk-shot pictures and four group suicides.

'My son is going to divorce me for that,' Janice announces. Probably. The family standard is five group suicides per flashing.

Voldemort c-t declares Janice to be insane -- again -- and worries for her children -- again -- and last week on The Surreal Life -- wait, we did that already... Anyway, Janice isn't well. This is not news, so let's just get to the house.

The Lifers arrive to find plants, gardening equipment, pickaxes (for breaking up the baked soil), and two representatives from the Center awaiting them in the backyard -- which is, as seen on the videotape, an unusable mess. The reps explain that the housemates will have the backyard more or less to themselves until 5:00 p.m -- at which point, they'll return to see the results, and bring the mothers and children with them. And with that, the Lifers are left to get started. Get started on what? Well, they could break up the soil -- or pull some weeds -- or run out to a bookstore and find something on emergency landscaping that can be read in a hurry -- or they could drop to their knees and pray -- or they could talk to Carey, but no one's going to think of that for a while... Stay tuned.

The producers let the housemates twist in their own wind for a few minutes before sending in partial relief in the form of a landscaping crew. They're not here to work, of course -- not the bulk of it, anyway. Their function is to lift any really heavy equipment, including the clipboard that gets handed to Voldemort. It's their checklist, plans, and guidelines for the day. (This means no actual Lifer thinking will be involved in the new layout of the backyard. Even reality shows have mercy rules.) Voldemort looks it over carefully before doing what she does with every symbol of directed authority she's ever been given: twists it to her own purposes. It may not be a Head Girl badge, but today, it's close enough for Ministry work.

The list was handed over at 9:00 a.m, so the cast has eight hours to:

1. Remove the old lawn. (Pickaxes, wheelbarrows, and sweat.)
2. Assemble furniture for the parent sitting area. (Oh, Bolo...)
3. Plant flowers. (All cast members with auras of death can sit this one out.)
4. Build a gazebo. (Kit, delivered by truck.)
5. Lay sod. (Janice is forbidden from cheating on Mr. Vibrator.)
6. Place and assemble swingset. (Also delivered by truck, partially assembled on delivery, but with some pieces that have to be added on. Janice was in full favor of working on the final swingset touches until they took the nooses out of her hands and explained they meant the other kind of swinging. The pouting went on for hours.)
7. Spread mulch. ('Mulch' is a funny word.)
8. Act like DAWs. (Automatic and constant.)

Voldemort starts off her foreperson duties with a c-t: she wants to get this done, she needs to get this done, future Death Eaters have to come from somewhere -- she's just not willing to do any actual work. Voldy's idea of gardening involves a few passes with her wand and a couple of spells she learned in Herbology. But her wand is in the hands of the producers and will remain so until the series ends -- so things will have to get done the old-fashioned way: by bossing people around. Voldemort's first instruction to her work crew is health-based. She wants Jose to take his shirt off. This is partially because it's too hot, but mostly because Voldy's convinced she can steal Mr. Vibrator away for a few hours after they get back to the Estate. 'Eye candy!' Voldemort says, but with Jose, no matter what you're looking at, what you wind up tasting is Acid Pops. Still, Voldemort does know a little bit about eye candy. Any aspect of construction, she's absolutely clueless on, and we've got proof and lots of it, but eye candy? Exceeds Expectations. Herbology? Acceptable. Muggle Relations? Troll.

10:00 a.m, and Voldemort still has the cast attacking the soil with pickaxes. The soil isn't even remotely on the verge of surrendering. Bronson c-t summarizes it half-perfectly: 'There's more work here than we could ever do, and we are -- ourselves.' Bronson has spotted the reason for any upcoming failure. Bronson's smarter and more self-aware than we ever gave him credit for. But Bronson's still a DAW, and he's a DAW who actually felt attracted to Janice for more than three seconds, so there's no mercy for him today: back to hammering at the soil he goes.

Jose decides they're not being paid enough for this. Actually, forty cents an hour is pretty much the standard for a Los Angeles landscaping crew, and that even includes being smuggled back across the border at the end of the day.

It turns out that Carey has some experience in landscaping -- when you spend so much of your life plowing through dirt with your face, you start taking an interest in the artistic quality of the results -- and so makes the mistake of trying to give Voldemort some advice. Voldy thinks this is sweet and caring and Carey will make a fine Death Eater when he grows up a little, but for now, she's in charge. And her first duty as mistress of all she surveys is to -- take his first bit of advice, as in 'I came up with this: didn't you see me talking to myself?': the men start swinging their pickaxes a little further away from each other, which sadly reduces the chance of an on-site fatality -- (censored)! -- but does at least pick up the pace a little. The women go to work gathering the results into the wheelbarrows.

Well, most of the women.

'I'm a supermodel!', Guess Who declares. 'I can't sit and dig up a garden!' Or stand, or crouch, or use her tongue to penetrate the soil, since it can get through just about anything else... Janice hasn't quite fake-quit just yet, but she is dedicating herself to doing as little as possible. Because if she doesn't look good, the garden won't look good. And isn't a Janice who hasn't sweated off all her makeup preferable to one who has as an ideal garden accessory? (Remember: this was April 2nd. Halloween was a long way off.)

'Let's get crac-ka-lacking!' Voldemort announces, but the attempt to get a spell word into what she thinks is Muggle conversation doesn't work without a wand, and the pickaxe refuses to bury itself in Janice's back. That means it's back to normal human efforts, such as ordering Jose to go tip out a wheelbarrow. Jose decides to dump the dirt at the curb. Voldemort tells him to dump it by the barbecue, because a little roast insect will do them all some good later. Jose thinks this is just wrong. Voldemort swears by the taste of freshly-peppered stink beetle.

'You're wasting time by not trusting your team leader,' Voldy tells Jose in mainstream, before turning to the c-t camera and adding 'I love managing -- and honey, I do it best!' (Which is two steps above 'more better' on the quality list.) Yes, Voldy. We know. We've all seen your management skills. We've seen you manage money. We've seen you manage phone calls. We've seen you manage plaster impacts. Let me know when you want me to stop, so I can keep going for a while. We've seen you manage crocodile tears. We've seen you manage stuffing worms in your mouth...

11:00 a.m, and nothing been completed except a momentary truce between Janice and Voldemort, lasting just long enough for Voldy to try out some of Janice's face powder. (Powdered face is just so hard to get these days.) Bronson c-t notes that no one seems to have any real idea of the direction to proceed -- gee, that's usually a management problem -- some people were going on minor star trips, like Jose with his snack tray (pure sugar plus Red Bull) -- and there was a rapidly spreading case of 'Candyassitis,' which isn't fatal, but really should be. It's not even as painful as watching the female housemates trying to assemble the gazebo without benefit of directions, because directions just aren't necessary for assembling anything -- yes, the female housemates: it's not a gender-specific condition, y'know, although it usually strikes the XX chromosome combo on recipes. Voldemort eventually announces that as foreperson, she is assigning herself the job of finding the lost instructions, then promptly grabs a megaphone and announces the lunch break. Because they've been working so hard, they've earned a meal. It's not easy for Janice to sit around and do nothing all day, you know. Sometimes, she has to pretend to breathe.

Carey has no c-t idea how Voldemort plans to get the work done before the deadline. She's not prioritizing the tasks, she's doing practically nothing herself, the amount of helpful direction she's providing is well-known to all who've seen her from her first reality show appearance on, she's backslid all the way to her starting point and now she's called lunch. Carey believes their only shot at finishing is to work through the day, skipping the meal. Carey is an athlete, so he's used to sacrificing a little comfort to get the job done. The others are -- well -- we all know what the others are, so lunch is served with just the first item completed and Voldemort busy with the most important task of all: checking her makeup.

Over lunch, Voldemort reads off the remaining checklist, which Carey accurately c-t notes is her idea of being the foreperson. Janice complains that she only got two hours of sleep thanks to a long and productive talk with Mr. Vibrator, and she feels ready to faint because the whole breathing thing really takes it out of her. Jose openly wonders what it would take for the Lifers to buy their way out of this: he's got a lot of his baseball salary left plus the book advance, and with a phone call or two, he could have a landscaping crew here and giving a time estimate on finishing, which for any landscape crew will be equal to the amount of time you have left plus six days for union coffee breaks and four times the amount you originally planned to spend, only ten percent of which will go to coffee.

Caprice, however, insists the Lifers cut the lunch break short and get back to work. They promised the representatives they'd do the job. They would do the job, not a group of hired guns. The on-site landscapers will help them move the heavy stuff when it becomes necessary, but until then, they should be giving their all for those poor women and children. Caprice is passionate and determined and sincere, which is probably why Jose insists she back down and play with the others as a team. This directly translates to 'sit down, shut up, and finish your lunch', putting Caprice into her first anger c-t. It seems as if Caprice actually wants to help people. What on Earth is she doing here?

Bronson, who's been doing a spectacular job of pointing out the obvious in this episode, finds one more piece of it to spotlight by saying Voldemort's lack of landscaping experience (and management skill, and that Troll O.W.L.) is the problem. The Lifers should be taking direction from the only person with experience in the field: Carey. And with that, Carey steps up to the plate. It's 1:00 p.m. and these people haven't even wrapped up lunch. Someone has to be in charge for real and it'll have to be him. He starts assigning tasks to people, getting things moving again. Voldemort interrupts by insisting the Lifers stick to the list as written, not to mention as she's directing it. Just because she likes Carey enough to steal his ideas once in a while doesn't mean she's surrendering control to him, because all he's going to do is follow the list, which is her list, and he is not her, although with a little creative spellcasting... Carey raises his voice a little to get the cast's attention back on his side, pointing out that he wasn't finished talking. Voldemort tells him he can say anything he likes, but he can't raise his voice to her, because she will be getting that wand back eventually and he would make a very fine painted box turtle, then c-t follows it up by saying that anyone who raises their voice in speaking to her is disrespecting her and she will have her revenge, along with the Defense Against The Dark Arts Job. And she would have gotten so much further with non-Muggles, it's not even funny. But for now, Carey wants his moment in the sun and too much sun exposure is really bad for Janice's supply of powdered face -- so fine. Carey's in charge. Whatever. If anyone needs her, she'll be in the corner, plotting her revenge. Y'know, for a few episodes there, I was starting to think she'd actually reformed... whew! (And now we know the real reason Snape didn't get the DADA job for all that time. Get too close to your old love and you fall right back into the habits. Next week: Janice goes to a toddler beauty contest and screams at all the contestants for not having lost their baby fat!)

'I'm all about productive criticism,' Carey c-ts, 'and she's not.' In a word, Carey? Duh.

Under Carey's semi-skilled direction, the cast actually starts Getting Things Done. Some of the plants start going in. A few pieces of furniture come together. Bronson asks 'Carey, can you take the pressure of being my hero?', which is an impressive thing because Bronson's previous hero was Pick Boy. Even Janice has been put to work, although the most effort anyone can get out of her is a little light lifting, such as carrying Bronson's screws to him on request. Of course, Janice claims not to know what a good screw is and for confirmation, talk to anyone she's ever slept with. 'Janice fascinates me,' Bronson c-ts. 'Is she actually a spoiled princess, or is she just lazy?' Bronson, why does it have to be an either/or proposition? And why did you leave out 'insane'?

Bronson: 'Janice, you're not on a catwalk! Run!'
Janice: 'I'm not going to jog!' (Because when she jogs, bits tend to fall off.) 'You're not screwing fast enough.'
Bronson: 'You know, you said that last night: I think it's rude either time.'
Janice (in c-t): 'I really am dysfunctional when it comes to hammering and screwing.'

...thank you, summary gods.

The base piece for the swingset gets carried in by the entire cast, plus the landscaping team, minus Janice, at 2:00 p.m. The camera then jump-cuts two hours to the final rush, as the housemates scramble to assemble the last pieces, place the mulch, and get things tidied up for the arrival of mothers and children. This involves serious work. This involves major effort. But most of all, it involves two classic Hollywood tricks: shooting in fast-motion -- and turning the clock off. As a result, what we see is DAWs racing all over the place, with the landscaping crew joining them for the final push and trickier bits of swingset assembly. We don't see what time it is when they actually finish, and no one on the camera team is foolish enough to track the sun. All we know is that when time was up, there were a bunch of people standing behind a banner and waiting to come in -- but the actual time they were let in? Forget the actual time. It's so much more fun to let VH1 pretend they were finished before the deadline. On the same day. In April. 2005.

But there's still time for -- what hasn't happened yet this episode? What happens in every episode?

That's right! Janice fake-quits!

And why does she fake-quit this time? Because she's allergic to sod.

Allergic. To. Sod.

Okay -- that was just the launch point. The real fake-quit came because Bronson didn't believe her and insisted that she get her candyassitis-infected self over to join the others, then walked over to get her with the intent of doing a Janice-style date -- clubbing her over the head, dragging her to the work area, and letting the sod have its way with her and why not? Everyone else has -- if it would get her to work. Janice immediately reprises her 'Don't touch me, don't you dare touch me, I quit!' routine that we all know so very well from those last three weeks of nightmares. And that's it for Janice, whose only contributions from this point on are suggestions to call the reps and stall them, plus a c-t where she calls Bronson evil, mean, and vile. He tried to make her work! Only humans work!

But the other DAWs work, and time passes -- possibly even a lot of time -- the kids start peeking around the banner, and the deadline comes. And possibly goes. And might have even come and gone three or four times in a row. We'll never know. All we get is a tour of the backyard, which is considerably improved. The plants look good. The gazebo looks good. The swingset looks good. Why, even Janice -- no. The most interesting touch is on a wall, where someone has painted the phrase 'I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.' It was probably me.

The banner is pulled back, the reps, mothers, and children stream in, and the backyard is a hit. Of course it's a hit. Any backyard redone by professional landscapers after a bunch of hapless Q-list celebrities messed it up is bound to be a hit. The reps cover their mouths in happy shock, which should subside right around the time VH1 sends them the bill. Janice does what she does best and goes up to the mothers so she can take all the credit one person at a time. (One camera shot finds her standing between Carey and Jose while saying 'We did good', which really makes you wonder what her definition of 'we' is.) Sandi c-t extols 'We made our deadline!', although she's careful not to say which one. The kids play. Carey watches the kids play and decides that's what makes it all worthwhile. And the plants, which have been in Janice's vicinity for hours and hours, show the first signs of starting to die -- so the Lifers are hustled back into the van and returned to the Estate.

It's night by the time the cast arrives, and pretty much everyone heads for bed: it was a very long day considering that it officially ended at five in the afternoon, and they're all ready for some well-earned sleep -- excluding Janice on the 'well-earned' part again. Jose declares that everything on him is sore with the exception of the dividing line between his buttocks (which has felt much better since he stopped taking the shots there), but it's okay because the work got done. Carey c-t decides Voldemort's a diva, and he still can't stand divas: no one in the Estate is better than anyone else in the Estate. (Which is wrong. Everyone is better than Janice. Including Lucky. But Carey likes to believe the best of people and that's a very rare thing, so let's give it another episode or two before we shatter it.) And Janice decides to grab the last few minutes of camera time by having still another confrontation with Bronson.

Bronson's decided to stay up for a little while: he's peacefully sitting in the dinning room when Janice finds him and tells him he ruined her entire day. She told him not to try and touch her. She'd only gotten one hour of sleep, downgraded from two because she forgot about Mr. Vibrator waking her up early for a little talk about excessive battery usage. Bronson was evil and vile and mean and, in case anyone's forgotten, tried to make her work. She told him this several times during the day and he should have known better, but no, he tried to make her work anyway. Bronson points out that there's been times that she's said things like this to him and then winked at him afterwards, which he took as a sign that she was playing to the camera and all was actually well, unless she's just got that many nervous twitches to go with her multiple personality disorders. Janice insists that she never winked today, and could barely keep her eyes open, although eyes trying to close could be mistaken for winking, but she didn't do that. Bronson then notes her lack of winking.

Imagine this being repeated until the show had thirty seconds left to run.

Got it? Good. Because it was repeated until the show had thirty seconds left to run.

Janice dismisses Bronson with a fake 'Good evening' and goes off to find someone else she can torment, because I won't be back for a week and that's just too much time to go without torturing somebody. And Bronson c-ts his belief that Janice has a hard time dealing with him because he sees her for who and what she is: the biggest, most socially detached DAW in the Estate -- and that's just not something she can deal with.

In mainstream, he just puts his head in his hands.

I may join him.

Next week on The Surreal Life: the housemates are introduced to Carey's world, which means lots of people are going to get on motorcycles, some of them will fall off, and there's a good chance of bones being broken. (This excludes Janice because her bones are made of plastic. Plus she'll just fake-quit again.) After that, it's a chance to see Jose in a bra, because once you start with the pantyhose, the next step is pretty much inevitable. And Ron Jeremy may show up wearing an oversized diaper. Again.

And now if you'll excuse me, it's time for another random strip search. Peace, over and out.