LAST EDITED ON 07-25-05 AT 04:36 PM (EST)

And once again, welcome back to VH1's new hit show, It's All About Janice. For thirty minutes, the Earth will cease revolving around the sun and fall into an orbit around something much more massive and at least a thousand times more dense: Janice's ego. (I can't say 'hotter' because at this point, no one involved with the show wants to associate 'hot' and 'Janice' ever again.) How will Janice dominate the show this week? Will fake-quitting be involved? Could she actually do a real-quit on something, with 'breathing' at the top of the viewer wish list? Will her primary six foes, also known as 'the housemates', finally give in to their destiny and the glory that is Janice by killing themselves, thus freeing up all possible camera time to her? And will VH1 ever figure out that the four people watching the show every week consist of me, The Devil In Miss Dickinson, and her two hair and makeup assistants, both of whom stand ready to escape the moment they figure out how to get their souls back?

Who cares?

No, really. Who? Do you care? Do I care? VH1 certainly doesn't care or they'd pull this thing off the air forever, or at least have the sense to bring MC Hammer back. At this point, I don't know why they're still putting the episodes up for all to see unless they too have had their share of Janice, which cannot exceed one part per six billion or poisoning starts to set in, and are showing her antics to whatever they think passes for the public (me, her, and the slaves) in the hopes of getting her publicly discredited, fired, and off the air forever. And if that's what they were after, they could have just passed out a few copies to booking agencies, the UPN staff, Tyra Banks, given Toccara Janice's home address so she could drop by and share a few words in person...

...what's that?

Janice was fired from America's Next Top Model? Cool! That means they can cancel the series now! They've achieved their goal! No more Janice on a weekly basis in the fall! It's over! We're free! We can burn down the Surreal Estate with her in it! We can fill this timeslot with the first-ever airplay of I Love The Aughts! We can --

-- what do you mean, 'roll opening credits'? Look, just because you paid for the film doesn't mean you have to use it! Ask FOX! Ask CBS! Ask me before I have to get the really big weapons out! Just put the videotape down and walk away before it's --

-- look, just because you, as a network, sold a portion of your collective soul doesn't mean I have any obligation to report on this misery after it's already done what it was created for --

-- and you promise you'll edit her out of the ANTM reruns?

Last week on The Thousand Reasons Social Services Will Be Pulling The Kids From Her Custody, it was once again all about Janice. It was supposed to be about a book signing for Jose and a bowling match involving the entire cast, but the book signing mostly turned into a chance for Janice to eye Jose and muse about how she was going to bash him over the head with a club and drag him back to her liar, in part because she may have lined up someone to ghost-write a summary for her and that's the only kind of bashing she knows how to do, but mostly because she wants to have her way with him, which is code for something that should guarantee your hot water bill goes up by three hundred percent: not only will you have no need for cold water for a week, but it'll take at least fifteen showers before you start to feel clean again. And the bowling match against a league team was supposed to be about raising money to help the developmentally disabled, but it almost fell apart when Janice did her second fake-quit of the season, walking out on captaining the opposition because she just couldn't take the responsibility of leading people who were both smarter and more mature than her. This was followed by her pulling out the terms 'retard' and 'Rain Man' to describe a member of the opposition, because to Janice, being kind and understanding is what people do when they sign their afterlives over to her. And finally, Janice spent the night with the only person who understood her, was willing to accompany her everywhere, and could stand to be with her after the lights went out without the help of major drugs and high-test ropes, not to mention that club: Mr. Vibrator.

And what has our little disqualificatee from the human race (removed for shoving) done to justify our throwing stones at her this week? Well, like the network said -- roll opening credits.

You may recall that at the end of our last episode, the rest of the household went to bed early, figuring to get up and use the bathrooms before Janice's soul slaves arrived to layer more flayed human skin onto her decayed bones. Or you might have been one of the twenty thousand people on the board who've been avoiding this show, and I can't blame you in the least. Regardless, you couldn't possibly believe that Janice wouldn't be ready for a trick like that, because here it is 6:30 in the morning on Day Three and she's up at an hour she usually only greets from the nighttime approach end, letting her 'little lesbians' into the Estate so they can begin the four-hour ritual that allows her to go outside without attracting every Van Helsing descendant in a three-generation radius.

'Make it kind of sloppy,' Janice instructs her hair slave. 'That 'just had sex' look,' which must be making Mr. Vibrator so proud. This genteel, cultured, and above all, loud conversation awakens Voldemort, who manages to get past Janice's stooges and find a tiny section of unused bathroom counterspace. Voldy has her own beauty treatments that help keep her snake eyes from developing bags, so she begins work on her own morning routine -- the start of which sends Janice recoiling from the counter, her feet kicking out of the Beauty Chair and into the counter, nearly sending her falling backwards to crack her skull open on the cold tile, producing a not-early-enough, painful, and well-earned death. Unfortunately, I said 'nearly'.

What caused all that commotion? Foaming hair mousse. Voldemort sprayed a little into her hands, and the sound of the foam escaping the can startled Janice. This is probably because she's never heard it before. All of her hair products have a more -- organic -- point of origin. Some of them have been known to whimper and that she's used to, but foaming? Never heard of it. The only foaming Janice knows how to do is at the mouth. 'It sounded like a missile!' Janice declares, and then shoots off one of her own notorious middle finger rockets as a somewhat tired, vaguely bemused Voldemort abandons the bathroom. Janice didn't see the can, y'know. Janice thought Voldemort was producing the sound from another distinctly organic point. In fact, Janice thought the sound was, in her own words, 'a big old poopy fart'. And Janice is an expert. When you're lying in a puddle of your own vomit after another three-day bender or one night with Warren Beatty, whichever would produce more nausea with less effort, you're quite accustomed to hearing your body express its opinion of the half-brain it's being forced to carry around. You could almost feel sorry for Janice's body. She considers it to be one of her foes, which is why there's so little of it left.

'I'm so tired of this crazy psycho #####,' Voldemort wearily confessional-tells, 'that I just wanted to smack her and say 'Snap out of it! Snap out of your crazy supermodel haze!'' It's a nice thought, Voldy -- and yes, I know what I just said and who I said it to, remember what this season's sub-theme is? -- but it's not going to work. Janice's crazy supermodel haze is self-sustaining, and until you destroy her Horcruxes, it will continue indefinitely. There's one for every career she's killed, so you have to find -- eight thousand, two hundred and forty-seven of them. Her hair and makeup slaves contain the first two, so any time you're ready to start...

However, VH1 contract duties come before a lifelong quest, so Voldemort has to put her noble hunt on hold so she can go outside and collect that day's edition of The Surreal Times. It's sitting in front of two costume racks, one labeled 'America the Booty-Ful', and the other 'Westward Hos!' This probably isn't subtle enough for the housemates, so the Surreal Times has all the details, and four hours later, once Janice is safe from the forces of light for another day, Voldemort calls a house meeting to share them.

'Take it off!' Voldy reads, having already donned a high top hat in the hopes of having Godric's sword fall out of it. 'Housemates to put on a burlesque show for sold-out crowds,' and usually it's the housemates who've sold out, not the crowds, but that's another issue entirely.

'I'm thinking 'burlesque, burlesque...'' Jose c-ts. 'Are we strippers?' You may also be wondering about the difference between burlesque and stripping. You may also be wondering how you're going to get through that drinking game where you count Janice's bolts when enough of them are going to be on display to make the centerfold of Popular Mechanics, but if there's anything I've learned about you, it's that you're easily distracted. Straight stripping eventually gets down to toplessness for females, or really, really skimpy briefs for males. Burlesque stops at bikinis or pasties with females, or -- well, really, really skimpy briefs for males, and it tends to start with more elaborate costumes. There's also more of an emphasis on theater and performance art: it's not just what you're showing, it's how you take it off. Like a lot of things, there's an art form here all its own, although it takes some time and effort to see, which means Janice is doomed.

However, for some real performance art, let's turn to Bronson, who is currently expressing his opinion of the latest assignment. 'No, no, no, no, no, no, no!' Bronson opinionates, and continues to opinionate as Voldemort reads off the rest of the Times. And for once, I'm right there with Bronson. I do not want to see Bronson taking his clothes off. I do not want to see Bronson taking so much as a watch off. I wish this series had been shot in Alaska on the first day of February. This episode was shot on the first of April, but Bronson in really, really skimpy briefs does not count as a practical joke. Keeping Bronson covered is a public service: revealing Bronson to the public is a crime of terrorism and should result in all parties involved being sent to Gitmo without a trial, because we haven't had one yet and wouldn't it be nice to have it be justified just this once?

But it's not going to happen, because Voldy's not done reading. The performance will be held at a Hollywood nightclub (Carey's head sinks down onto the table to rest in his folded arms, where no one can see his expression, and Bronson's repeated 'No!'s reach hysterical levels, with arm gestures and wild head shakes thrown in and about), and -- Bronson will be the master of ceremonies. Naturally, Bronson can't figure out whether to take getting what he wanted well or not. 'I was conflicted about being the MC,' he c-ts. 'At first, I thought 'Well, they don't think I'm man enough to take my clothes off' and then I was like 'I'm so glad I don't have to take my clothes off.' Bronson? A. They're right for every last given value of the word 'man', and B. Hallelujah.

Voldy continues. The Lifers will be divided into two teams, who will compete in a strip challenge -- to the death. (And yes, they mean the audience.) These teams will be named after and take their costumes from the racks outside. The Booty-Ful team will be Jose (playing George Washington), Caprice (as the Statue of Liberty), and Janice (Martha Washington), because Janice is certainly full of something you'd find in the average booty. The Hos will be Voldemort (gunfighter), Carey (drunken bum), and Sandi (dance hall girl). Again, Bronson is the MC, and humanity ought to be grateful. And since it's understood that most of the housemates have no experience taking off their clothes in a public setting because most casting couches just have that single camera behind the full-length one-way mirror, the producers will be sending an expert to give them some advice: Kitten DeVille, a former Miss Exotic World and well-known expert on burlesque stylings.

The housemates head outside to inspect the costumes -- Voldy finds a cowhide-patterned pair of chaps that could make an adequate substitute for her dearly loved snakeskin -- and Carey immediately announces his intentions to get roaring drunk before they hit the road, because he's not ready for this. He just saw the hammock (but at least it wasn't a T-back) which he's expected to be down to at the end of his routine, and he'd really rather not be wearing it sober. Carey may have made a career out of breaking bones, but there are some fractures you just don't want to risk in a public setting. He needs help. He needs, as he c-t puts it, something to break the ice. And what does Carey do to break the ice in getting ready for public semi-nudity? He gets it all over with at once. In a scene that would have gone to TiVo 'Save until I delete' status all over the country if anyone had actually been watching, Carey walks into the living room wearing said hammock, a cowboy hat, a gunbelt, and a very extensive tattoo. Nothing else. 'Are we ready for the club?' he asks, gets a response of numerous female screeches that basically say the club can wait for the rest of the week and leaves grinning, confident that the reaction to his finale will not be total laughter. But there's still a very good chance he won't get out alive. The paper cuts from all those tossed phone numbers add up after a while.

Jose goes into the larger bedroom with Sandi and Caprice to inspect his costume, which includes -- stockings, or at least leggings, or whatever might sound a little less humiliating, so for our purposes, we'll just call it pantyhose. Jose's not entirely uncomfortable with this because one of the most popular shoot-up sites for illegal injections is between the toes, which means some of his most embarrassing scars will be covered. He also has a white garter and, much to Caprice's surprise, a large white dickie, which -- 'No way! This goes over your (hot dog)?' -- doesn't go where she thinks it goes. In fact, there's a lot of what-goes-where confusion and costumes are starting to get mixed up, so Jose tries a little of everything. He dons one white stocking and one of Sandi's red stockings, just barely managing to get them past his snaggle-cut toenails without tears. 'That looks okay,' Caprice observes. 'Are you sure you want to go to that place?' Yes, he does, and he wants to bring friends: the garter goes on, the too-small briefs go on (which really embarrasses Jose, because the other really popular shoot-up site for illegal injections is directly into the rear, and part of his favorite landing zone is peeking out every time he moves), another garter, the dickie, lace cuffs -- 'Jose is not afraid to show his feminine side,' Caprice c-ts, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world isn't afraid to look -- and Jose parades in front of the mirror and Caprice, showing off just what several hundred thousand dollars in illicit chemical supplements can offer. Especially given the too-small briefs, which are covering -- well, you've heard about the side effects, right? Let's just say 'too small' could be put into action again here and leave it at that.

'I need larger underwear!' Jose protests. And isn't that a really subtle coded way of saying 'padded'?

Everyone's had time to get back into their street clothes by the time Kitten arrives: Jose greets her at the door and takes her into the living room to meet the housemates. (Janice's frozen 'It's nice to meet you' greeting to Kitten makes it look like she was having a fatal plague's worth of Botox injections during the sentence, but since Janice normally produces deadly infections in what's left of her natural body as a matter of course, we may have just caught her at a bad moment.) Kitten demonstrates some basic burlesque moves -- taking off gloves with teeth and a smile, bouncing out of a breakaway costume -- as Carey watches from his seat, one crossed leg bouncing slightly in that manner unique to rock concerts and places where a PG-13 summary should not go observing leg bounces.

Janice, of course, takes instant objection. Moral objection, because she's a parent. She may even be a PTC parent, because when your hypocrisy is unlimited, you possess the bare minimum required to get into that organization, although you might want to avoid the word 'bare'. She declares her intent to just sit back do what she does best: judge the others. Because, as she c-t puts it, she's determined to avoid being connected with the terms 'burlesque' or 'striptease' or 'sex club', because she's a parent and anyone who's part of those industries is on her foe list, deserves to have their own children taken away from them, and be killed immediately after so their blood can keep her young. Being part of those industries is dirty. Not like being a supermodel, of course. If you're a supermodel, you have most of your worst enemy replaced with inert substances and you tell those substances to sleep with Warren Beatty and Sylvester Stallone, and that's not dirty at all. Oh, and you club men over the head and drag them back your lair to have your way with them, which would normally be considered 'rape', but that's not dirty either because you're a supermodel and it's actually style! Just because you walk down runways wearing virtually nothing and they walk down runways wearing virtually nothing, it's not as if you have anything in common. They have poles in their hands and you have one stuck up your rear. No similarities whatsoever. Pure, clean, chemically non-reactive Janice will not Take It Off, so there will be no deaths by drinking game today. (She still reserves the right to flash a buttock at the camera whenever she pleases, as any good, moral, PTC parent would surely do.) Kitten's flexible and offers to teach Janice a routine that simply shows a lot of leg without revealing anything on the torso at all. Janice's clenched fist expression seems to indicate that she's not willing to live with that, but can't commit murder with this many witnesses -- and the lesson goes on.

Naturally, everyone else is considerably more accepting of their assignment than Janice, because their morals only come in single-standard. Sandi's visibly enjoying herself, especially in learning a proper sashay-and-wink. Kitten suggests that Sandi and Voldemort strip each other during their routine: get into a play-catfight on the runway and shed clothing in the process. This is given a quick dress rehearsal in the living room, with Sandi lunging for Voldemort's vest -- a little too forcefully.

'My little ta-tas popped out,' Voldemort c-ts, still wincing. 'And I was just mortified!' Back in mainstream, Voldy immediately drops to the ground, covering her breasts with her hands. It was almost fast enough. However, VH1 assures me that given the normal Surreal Estate activities, they were nearly fully prepared for just such an emergency. It'll just be three more weeks before the mandrakes are ready, and after that, all of the camera operators who were Petrified can be returned to normal, outside of the 'need for massive amounts of therapy' thing.

'I was so embarrassed for my little boobies!' Voldemort c-ts. And she should be. Back when she had her full powers, those camera operators would have died instantly.

Kitten departs for the club ahead of the group, leaving with 2:15 remaining before showtime. 'Thanks for making us so nervous!' Carey calls out after her, but that's mainly because he knows the leg bounce was going on camera. Jose worriedly believes that if his dad ever sees this, Canceso Senior will apply a shot to his rear, and why not? Everybody else has. And finally, with the sun down, costumes gathered, and the frozen bodies towed off to the hospital wing, the Surreal Van departs the Estate, heading for the Highlands, their club venue for the evening.

The Lifers pile into the club with plenty of time left before final curtain and meet Pat and Robin, their makeup artists for the night. Everyone takes a chair and gets prepped for their performance, including Janice, for whom a little extra sacrifice layering never hurts. Jose asks Pat for a little red, because George Washington wore lots of red makeup. Pat tells Jose that the father of his country was a little paler than his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grand-resident. Jose understands completely and changes his request: he just wants to look prettier than the females. Several pairs of stockings are immediately brought out and arrayed for his inspection, but Jose's an autumn and somewhere around a size twenty-eight, so it's going to take a little extra time before his colors are ready. This brings the housemates to dress rehearsal with an hour left before curtain, and each team only gets fifteen minutes to work out the kinks in their routine, or if needed, work them in.

The Hos don't get a very productive quarter-hour in: with Voldemort watching her idol in jaw-dropped shock, Sandi manages to use up pretty much every second of rehearsal time they've got, enjoying herself just a little too much considering there's two other people waiting in the wings who see it as more of a public humiliation, and don't they deserve a chance to get their flop sweat well and truly flowing? The Booty-Fuls have an entirely different problem: they're all rehearsing. Including Janice, who may have been drinking the not-water again. (Jose has: he freely admits to being just a little bit drunk, which is apparently how he prepares for high-pressure situations and explains so much about the Athletics' record in World Series play.) Janice comes out on stage and starts her well-established routine by slapping Jose in the face twice, which is both her idea of flirting and her way of establishing her mark of possession on a new toy while she waits for her club to get back from the shop. For the familiar middle, she complains that in thirty years of modeling, she has never had to sashay or display any leg or do anything remotely sexual, because she saves all that for the couch in the casting office and she's completely out of her element here. She's not going to catch Jose's discarded breakaway pieces: she's going to shove a baseball in his ear. She tells Caprice and Jose to rehearse without her, because she's just going to go out and wing her portion, and I mean the store-bought overcooked ones with no meat on the bones and a rancid sauce. 'After a hundred thousand miles on the runway, I don't need to rehearse!' Janice c-t declares, although she neglects to say how many of those miles were spent landing on her face. Back in mainstream, the others protest that she needs to get her thoughts in order before the performance, and Janice responds with one of those lines that make summary writers believe there is something on their side: 'I have no thought process!'

(Pause. Rewind.) 'I have no thought process!'
(Pause. Rewind.) 'I have no thought process!'
(Pause. Rewind.) 'I have no thought process!'
(Pause. Rewind.) 'I have no thought process!'

Bliss.

And what's the grand finale of any Janice act, ladies and gentlemen? What does Janice always do to close out any performance?

That's right! Janice fake-quits!

The record now stands at three shows in a row and counting...

Jose doesn't understand what happened. Janice was semi-cooperating, everything seemed as fine as it ever did with her -- and then wham!, fake-quit, with the Booty-Fuls due to put their show in on about half an hour with no Janice. Why did she do it to them again? The answer's simple: she hadn't gotten enough camera time for the episode and nothing brings it to her like a fake-quit, so she went with the tried and true. But Jose's still on seven-second delay, so he doesn't understand this. He just knows he has to either get Janice back or figure out how to go on without her.

And now, sentients and gentlebeings, presented for your entertainment, amusement, and complete disbelief, Reality TV World is proud to present, for one time only, in the center ring -- The Most Egotistical C-T Of All Time! Can you guess who says it? Can you? Listen closely, boys and girls, because this performance will not be repeated.

'The minute I show so much as a shoulder, it'll be in every newspaper in every language around the world -- because I am an international superstar.'

One wonders exactly how much headline space they dedicated to the last episode's flashed buttock. Oh, that's right -- 'none'. I guess it must have been a really busy news day or something. All those spelling bees needing coverage, so many dogs playing in fountains to take pictures of -- the news watch never stops. Sorry, Janice. But bare your neck -- to a guillotine -- and we'll talk.

Bronson goes to reassure Janice by kissing her on the cheek and rubbing her arm. (This does not constitute the sort of sexual harassment which would normally lead Janice to fake-quit because she's already done that in this episode. This is Someone Paying Attention To Her Because She Fake-Quit, which is something entirely different.) He also offers her his MC job, which is the sort of thing Janice would normally jump for in a second because it involves bossing people around when they have no recourse at all -- but it also means that we're getting thisclose to seeing Bronson strip. Janice, realizing this, stands by her fake-quit.

Carey may c-t have a smaller part of the picture. Janice isn't twenty-one any more. To be more specific, she isn't Caprice, and she may not want to have her World's First Supermodel If You Forget About Twiggy On Purpose body displayed so close to someone who's in the prime years of her profession. Janice may not want to risk coming off on the wrong side of that comparison. Of course, if Janice wanted to avoid coming off on the bad side of comparisons, she would -- join the PTC. Hmm...

Meanwhile, Jose and Caprice are getting ready for Life Without Janice, which is an admirable goal and all of us should be pursuing it at top speed as soon as possible. Jose starts by having a beer, which will either help him imagine a world without Janice or be better able to deal with one that has her in it. They then quickly figure out a means for expanding the duration of their own routines so as to make up for a missing partner: with a little luck and a touch of slow-motion, no one will realize Janice was ever there. A wig gets shed (Jose's: he's wearing a white powdered one as part of his George Washington ensemble, and it really goes with the garter), a chest gets rubbed (Caprice's), some clothing gets removed (both), and the extra five minutes should be filled. They've got a game plan and it doesn't involve Janice. Something is about to go off that does not involve Janice. Cue Supermodel Sense Tingling in five minutes.

With seven minutes before showtime, Sandi is attending to her parenting duties, trotting out all the lies she feels her depressed daughter needs to hear: they're all there to see Janice, Caprice isn't half the supermodel Janice is, Caprice isn't a supermodel at all, she's just a blonde wanna-be with a partial British accent and Sandi would even be saying that if she knew it was going to come out on Dirty Laundry later because it's what Janice needs to hear. Sandi's starting to realize she's taking on a full time job -- 'Once again, I'm like 'Jaaaanice!', and she's like, 'No, I can't do it.'' -- the key words being 'once again' -- but it's a job that only she can do, because anyone else would have thrown up repeatedly by now. But still, she's getting exactly nowhere until Janice's Supermodel Sense starts to go off. The other cast members will be on stage soon, which means the cameras will have to leave her in order to film them. Her foes are about to steal her precious, precious camera time, and if there's anything Janice can't stand, it's everyone in the world, and since her castmates are among the occupants of the planet, she cannot let them win. She must have her camera time, and if the camera is going to be following the burlesque show, that's where she has to be. So Janice ends her fake-quit and heads for the makeup chair with only three minutes to spare, which would normally leave her three hours and fifty-seven minutes short of guaranteed protection, but her morning session took. Caprice realizes there's no time to revise the routine again and Janice never really rehearsed the first one, so she has no idea what they can do next. Jose, seeing his once-and-former-and-once partner arrive again, responds in the only way possible and has another beer.

Showtime. The club is fairly packed, given that there's very few tables in the audience seating area and they've been spaced as widely as possible to help the illusion that more than fifty people actually showed up, all of whom had to be lured in from the street with the promise of free beer, not to mention a chance to see Caprice holding a torch. Bronson steps out onto the stage to open the show, wearing a top hat, tuxedo, tails, and absolutely no signs of rehearsal whatsoever. He reads all his lines directly off a hand-held cue card, sounding like every seventh-grader who's ever been assigned to play Romeo in English class working directly from the textbook, except without the delusion of what an Italian accent's supposed to sound like. He's so unenthused about his MC duties, you'd swear he was about to introduce Janice -- wait. Okay, he's so unenthused that I want to lift the coattails and give his key a couple of extra winds, and if you think that's code for anything, you are sick and depraved and will be dead very soon, although I hope you'll understand if it takes me a while to get around to you. He makes the promise of getting to see naked DAWs sound like a warmup for the SATs, only with none of the stress and twice the scrap paper. He, in the short form, sucks. 'Do you guys want to see some awkward celebrity stripping?' Bronson asks, and the audience cheers just to see if it'll get him off the stage faster. It doesn't.

Bronson introduces Jose and Caprice -- he does not introduce Janice, possibly because he wasn't in the area when she unfake-quit, or possibly because that crush is starting to become history -- and finally gets out of the way. Now: I could spend time describing every last move Caprice and Jose made on the runway. I could tell you what clothes came off, in what order, and if anything of note was revealed in the process. I could basically turn this into the RTVW Follies Of 2005 and let the PG-13 rule go hang itself. But they're DAWs and my interest factor needs at least eight decimal places to hit something which isn't a zero, so I'm just going to gloss over the details. In overview: the Booty-Fuls reverted back to their original routine, which was horrible. Caprice came out and got down to a bikini top and long skirt without losing the torch, which was sort of impressive, especially since she did it with all the emotional intensity of either a supermodel showing off an outfit or Bronson reading a cue card. All Jose did during this sequence was sit on a chair at the back of the runway and watch while the audience took pictures of everything in sight. Janice then came out, sat in Jose's lap for a second, gave the entire audience a full display of the only body part she was willing to show off -- a middle finger -- kissed Jose, and then did nothing but collect Jose's shed clothing for the rest of the routine. (That was it. Flipping off everyone in the club was the total extent of her demure, dignified, won't-offend-the-kids act. The PTC must be so proud...) Jose proved that breakaway outfits can do exactly that even in untrained hands, and it was over. Some audience applause resulted.

The Master of Comas came back, got just enough brain activity going to ask if what the audience saw was exciting in the same sort of tone you'd normally use to check if Bueller showed up for class this time, and brought out the Hos. Again, in overview: Carey, like Jose, spent the first part of the act sitting in at the back of the runway, but he at least had the sense to do something while he waited. In this case, he drank. A lot. (He said he was going to, remember?) Sandi took the runway first and proved that if the whole rap revival thing doesn't work out, she has a promising second career waiting as a burlesque dancer: she actually made a connection with the audience by going out and enjoying herself. (Really enjoying herself. If anyone was having the time of their life out there, it was Sandi.) Voldy then showed up as a quasi-sheriff to arrest Sandi, also playing to the audience -- but not to Janice. Janice c-t decided that Voldy was doing a supermodel runway strut and said all she could look at was the stab wounds and scars on Voldemort's legs, concluding that Voldy looked like Mr. Ed on crack. (For the record: I hate what I'm about to do here.) Voldemort does not look like Mr. Ed on crack, and any leg scars perceived primarily exist in what passes for Janice's mind. From a carefully chosen angle, with expertly placed lighting, and knowing nothing about her previous reality history, Voldy is not an unattractive woman, and the crowd responded well to her play-fight with Sandi, at least until the show went to the same place it did during living room rehearsals and the producers wound up ordering an extra ten doses of mandrake extract. Carey came out at the end, did half the disrobing himself, was half-denuded by his overenthusiastic partners, and that was the end of the act. More audience applause resulted.

We now return you to your standard present tense, already in progress.

As soon as she's through the curtains, Sandi breaks into a run and goes straight for Kitten and the full-on tight hug, squealing and jumping as she hugs the professional dancer with everything she has. (Not only does Sandi has a whole new interest in life, but she's now qualified to be her own backup video dancer.) The celebration doesn't last that long, though: Bronson boredly summons both teams back out so the audience can pick their favorite via applause meter. (Janice, The Champion Of Television Standards, already changed into street clothes: the others come back out in what's left of their costumes, and Carey chose a really notable place to hang the empty holster off his gun belt.) This is a clear no-contest situation and there's no point trying to stretch out the suspense with a commercial break, no matter what VH1 thinks: the Hos had three people who were at least partially into what they were doing, and the Booty-Fuls had one detached, one afraid of his father, and one obscene gesture. The Hos win.

Caprice immediately c-ts that the Hos deserved to win, because their act was sexy.

Janice immediately c-ts that no one gives a rat's rear end who won.

I gave serious thought to switching those names around just to see if anyone would notice.

The Hos open a bottle of champagne, and get jump-cut edited back onto the LA road system before an equally fast edit returns them to the Estate.

Apparently everyone had a little of the bubbly, because Caprice has to be helped down the carpet, while Bronson's walk has taken on a slight list -- and then one of the rarest events possible for this kind of show takes place: reality intrudes on reality.

(Editing note: the exchange that's about to take place was the second conversation between the involved parties: the first was not shown, but was discussed later on.)

Voldemort gets a phone call, and it's bad news of the real, sincere, and for the first time in her personal reality history, unbashable kind. Her best friend's father has died. She does exactly what she's supposed to do: gets on the line and stay there, talking to her friend, comforting her, getting her through the first stages of the grieving process -- doing whatever she has to do to make sure her friend comes out the other side in something resembling a single piece. This takes time. It has to take time. It cannot be rushed. And it involves people who have nothing to do with making Janice happy, so there's no way it can be allowed to continue.

Janice: 'How long? Voldemort, how long?'

Voldemort (and remember: this was the second interruption): 'Two (censored) hours. What do you want from me, Janice? I'm on the phone!'

Janice: 'Well, I know that, but you've been -- I just need to speak to my kids. Can you just give me an idea of what time...'

At this point, Voldemort gives up on Janice as a human being -- yes, I know what I just wrote -- and goes back to the phone call, which is much more important than Janice ever could be.

Janice: (displays middle finger again) '(Censored) this, be-yotch!' And leaves.

Voldy, in c-t: 'This crazy psycho be-yotch is so out of her mind, she can't even process death, grief, or mourning.' No. No, she can't. But she does a world-class job processing 'camera time'. The phone call in progress was more important than Janice calling her kids. A friend dealing with a terrible loss needs help now: immediate and continual until the miles between them are bridged. Anyone with the lightest touch of empathy would have waited. This excluded Janice.

We bash a lot in the summaries. That's the style for all of us, that's the way things go. But -- some of it has always been in the 'we tease because we care' category. It's harmless. We make fun of the shows and the people on them, but we're watching those shows and those people. There is, deep down, some sort of affection there, an entry on the positive side of the ledger, and that light, lilting 'you know we're kidding, right?' comes out once in a great while. There's people we like. There's even a select few we've learned to love, and once that love is in place, it's permanent: just ask the Festers. But there are times when we mean every word, and even times when we go darker than that...

I loathe Janice. And there is nothing light, teasing, or affectionate in that. She is walking proof that the worst kinds of evil include eternal self-interest, a gaze turned forever inward. She is human only in the shell: the interior is hollow. And should she never cross my screen again, if she never has another moment of public exposure after this series -- I will laugh. Let her reap her harvest and choke on the weeds.

And all of the Lifers are starting to hear the echoes bouncing in the cave.

Voldemort finishes her phone call in exactly the amount of time it should take -- all that's needed -- then takes a shower to get the stink of Janice off her skin before going into an impromptu household meeting with the rest of the cast -- minus Janice and Sandi, not present in the large bedroom. Voldemort relates the first conversation: Janice had come in and demanded the phone so she could speak to her (censored) kids. Voldy had explained what was going on: family emergency in progress, could Janice please come back later? Janice had chosen to play vulture, staring in from the hallway, haunting the attempts at comfort and not allowing Voldemort a moment's peace -- and then the second conversation/eruption had taken place.

Bronson's face goes cold as the last of his crush dies.

Voldemort points out the obvious: only a complete nut would do something like that. Bronson uses the Janice-bashing opening to bring up the bathroom issue, and everyone agrees that something has to be done about Janice's habits, with the bathroom as a possible good place to start. And of course, that's when Janice walks in -- to fake-apologize, because the helper voices in her head have told her she's perilously close to having no one go after her the next time she fake-quits. Not even the camera.

Janice's c-t: 'I'm not going to get into Voldemort's face, because I've got news for you: if I unleash on Voldy, it'll make her hair weave just fall off.' All with the same twisted expression of disgust she's been wearing in c-t and half of mainstream for the entire series. In main camera time, she kisses Voldemort on the cheek and tells her that she's sorry because death is a drag. She doesn't mean it. She doesn't care. She's saying it because it'll sound good for the rest of the household, and they don't even believe it: Jose visibly rolls his eyes at the 'death is a drag' line. But Voldemort accepts the fake apology for the good of the cast -- and her expression of pain, visible a second after Janice turns away with an equally fake 'Great!', shows what she really thinks of it.

Before Janice can leave, Jose tells her there's something they need to talk about -- and flees before the acid feed to Janice's lips can be turned back on. Bronson and Voldemort take over from there, telling Janice they need to discuss the bathroom situation. Janice's reaction is predictable -- 'Me? What the hell did I do?' -- but she follows them through the curtain into the workout room.

Bronson makes the case in plain terms and reveals something we didn't know about the Surreal Estate: there is a makeup room on the premises that's reserved for Janice's exclusive use. They want her to exclusively use it. Tying up the bathroom for four hours every morning with the dubious help of two non-cast members is annoying everyone. Janice, outnumbered and realizing she's still about two inches from the end of her Estate rope, replies that she can do that -- but only if someone else goes into the room and completely cleans it out for her. You see, the room was freshly painted for her arrival, and when she went in there on the first day, she got all sorts of microfibers from that fresh paint in her eyes. Those microfibers cut up the inside of her eyes, and she had to call a doctor. True story. Really. And it's just a pity the editors didn't have any time to include it in the episode, what with her first fake-quit and all. So unless someone takes care of all those vicious microfibers for her, one bathroom will be hers every morning. Or else the microfibers might attack again, and this time, they could attack her face. And they might hurt themselves beating against the coating, and do the Lifers really want all those microdeaths on their conscience?

'Honey, come on!' Voldemort c-t erupts, and Bronson's mainstream expression finally turns to frozen stone as they both give up. 'Great, thanks,' Voldemort tells Janice, throwing up her hands as she wearily leaves the room. For his part, Bronson's 'You're an idiot', addressed to Janice a few seconds later, is almost serene -- and he leaves, which takes Janice a few seconds to notice, as being called an idiot immediately sends her into a speech about Bronson being a drama queen. She manages to clear the opening remarks before realizing he's gone. Not that it matters, of course. There's still a camera there, active and recording. As long as someone gets to see the speech later, she'll be happy.

Voldemort goes back to the bedroom she's been sharing with Janice and moves out. She can't stand to stay there any more. The poison is beginning to scar her lungs. From now on, she'll be staying with Caprice, Sandi, and Carey, who welcome her to the fold. A light conversation starts up about Jose's nightmarish toenails, and there's a little laughter again -- but it's just a bit forced. Janice is still in the house, still ready to make everything all about her, no matter how serious or real it might be -- because she doesn't care. Because Janice's world contains only Janice -- and for four more days, the Lifers' world will be forced to intersect hers.

And the episode ends with a warning: if things continue as they've been going, Voldemort is coming dangerously close to winning her real name back --

-- and Janice is half an inch away from becoming Voldemort.

Peace (except for Janice), over and out.

(Next week on The Surreal Life: the housemates have to renovate a backyard at a shelter for battered women. Janice can't be bothered to get her fingernails dirty. Voldy starts to slip into her Apprentice persona. And Carey may actually have to take charge of something, because if anyone knows about plowing through a field of dirt face-first, it's him. Stay tuned. If they wind up killing Janice, they'll need witnesses to testify before they get what they deserve. A medal.)