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"(Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
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Original message

Estee 55195 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

07-11-05, 02:43 PM (EST)
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"(Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
LAST EDITED ON 07-12-05 AT 05:17 PM (EST)

Every time that casting agent calls 'round the clock, like dandelions up they pop,
Ears so big and eyes so wide, and though they feed us bona-fide baloney,
With no truth in it,
Oh still they thrive, oh this I guarantee!
Because there's a sure-as-shooting DAW born a minute,
And friends, the biggest one of all is me!

Welcome to VH1, America's first laundry fetish network! That's right: if it's completely washed up, it has a home here. Out of style? On the schedule. Dead and buried? Exhumed and filmed. If your fifteen minutes is up, VH1 will put another five seconds on the clock face. In pencil. And then they'll put you on TV again, although no one's ever quite sure when. (Ever notice VH1 has a schedule Nostradamus couldn't predict? Tune in for the 80s, get the 70s. You think it's the worst breakup songs ever? No, it's Bridgette and Flavor Flav, which sort of calls for the worst breakup songs ever to be played immediately in the desperate hope that they'll somehow turn out to be inspirational. My local TV listings finally put a scrolling 'Your guess is as good as ours' entry across the week.) Is your career over? Do adults laugh at you in the street? Would little children throw stones at you if they had any idea who you were? Can your aura of stupidity and/or evil be detected from orbit? And were you planning on running for governor of California? Again? If so, come on down to VH1, where they have many, many possible homes waiting for you, and tonight those homes are on their special CelebReality block, also known as 'Ever see the suicide rate spike forty percent in two and a half hours?'

And what's the most storied, fabled, and deserving of air bombing among those homes? Why, it's the Surreal Life mansion! -- so named because if anyone in there has any hope of a life, the world has gone totally surreal -- and it looks like it's just about that time of year again to start filling it with people that we'd normally consider victims, but let's face it: they volunteered. They are so far down the hill that a traveling five-year freakshow looks good to them. If joining the most idiotic circus on TV would give them a two percent chance at landing that late-night carpet emporium commercial, then paint scales on their faces and call them the Alligator People Of Hollywood. They emerge from the sewers at night and try to steal your dinner reservations. The horror, the horror...

Yes, the season has come. It's time to stock the rivers with trout, throw guppies into the pond, and put some major DAWs in a prison for a one-week sentence, which is really giving the rest of the world a treat because it means very few of us will have to deal with them for that time. They'll be forced to live with each other. Deal with whatever stupid situations the producers can throw their way. There may or may not be a romance, but don't worry: they're generally too stupid to breed. And as always, if we're very lucky, someone's sentence may be commuted to death.

Who's so desperate for the light of an active camera that they volunteered for this third circle of damnation? What idiotic follies will be put on display for the six people who believed the listing time to see? Will anyone spot the gas nozzles in the walls? And can the producers finally get these people drunk enough for someone to fall into the pool and drown? (Why do you think there's a sign on the grounds reading 'No Lifeguard On Duty'? Hope.)

Yes, I'm in a mood. Targets are a good thing. Roll opening credits.

And we're in Hollywood again, on our way up to the Surreal Estate, and a word of caution must be given: the first person we see is not a houseguest. He's exactly that desperate and at least twice that stupid and there's little more we'd like to do than see him suffer, too, but he's a DAW on an unbelievable level -- a level so impossible that VH1 would not let him in. There are things too horrible to do to people, even major DAWs, and locking this shambling travesty of what never had pretensions to humanity in with nearly anybody almost made the list, but you have to see the DAWs we're getting and as such, I'm prepared to make an exception this time. Unfortunately, VH1 isn't willing to have that suicide spike include the houseguests, so Andy Dicque is going to stay outside. You may remember Andy from the last time your eyes were taped open and you were begging for death. Or you may remember him from his own reality show, whatever that was. You might even remember him sitting next to Chyna Phillips and playing all her blackjack cards for her, which was a good thing because between the two of them, they nearly had enough brains to count to twenty-one. Or you might have been really lucky and repressed him from your memory entirely, in which case you're seeing a blank space at the start of the summary and wondering how I violated board standards this time. It's not me: it's Andy. Andy violates a lot of things every time he appears on television, and most of them are covered by the Geneva Convention. But since being a prisoner of the Ratings Wars doesn't count for Red Cross protection, let's all just grit our teeth and push on. Because as long as he's on television, there's a chance he'll be put through incredible agony right in front of us, and we can but hope.

Andy is here to serve as security guard for the Surreal Estate. The responsibility of keeping these DAWs in jail falls upon him. Normally this would be like turning the nuclear launch codes into a tap-Morse sequence and giving the responsibility to a hyperactive woodpecker, but in this case, the assignment makes sense. You see, Andy isn't allowed to enter the mansion itself. He must always stop at the door. That means that as long as our DAWs are inside, they are living in a world that is guaranteed not to contain Andy in it. This is completely unfair when it comes to a jail sentence and smacks of pampering the prisoners, plus it's such a magnificent perk that I might go there, but if it keeps them inside, it keeps them inside. You contain evil with evil, people. Good tends to think they can be reformed and releases them to work in the community. (So does evil, but it's laughing the whole time.)

It's probably just about time to meet our DAWs because anything's better than letting Andy have the camera to himself, so here they come, pulling up to the security desk in front of the driveway, transported in cars that are better than anything they've been able to drive for years. And who's the first DAW to arrive? Wait -- is that a car? Is that the Average Joe bus? Is this anyone I'd ever recognize from anything whatsoever? In fact, we have just had the first test of being a VH1 star passed with flying colors: on first sighting, everyone must look at their latest feature attraction and say 'Who?' in six-part harmony.

'You know me as Balki from Perfect Strangers,' says Bronson Pinchot. No, I don't. I don't know you as Balki. Don't be ridiculous. I barely know you from Adam, and that's mostly because Adam's dead and you're still alive, if only just. But according to Bronson, he had a hit show on ABC for nearly a decade, which really doesn't mean much because Steve Urkel had a hit show on ABC for nearly a decade, so it's not exactly like they've got standards. Plus he was nominated for an Emmy once and they'll nominate anybody. He wants to try for the sympathy angle by explaining how he could fall so low that he'd wind up in this house, so he tells us he grew up on welfare with his father in prison and often had to stay home from school because his only pair of pants was in the washer. So Bronson just wants a guaranteed roof over his head for one week, and it's even okay if it caves in, because the V-shape it'll form after cracking over his skull is still good for keeping off the rain. Plus he'll be pocketing all the shampoo samples and stealing the towels is always an option. Bronson is the first person going into the fully-furnished Surreal Estate. He will also be the only person who ever sees it in the fully-furnished condition. Andy may want to do a body cavity search on Bronson before he leaves. Nobody will want to watch.

Bronson approaches the desk and asks for help with his emotional baggage, but Andy tells him it'll have to pass the metal detector first. However, Bronson needs no help getting his priorities in order, as demonstrated by the following exchange.

Andy: 'So how do you feel about living with six other people?'
Bronson: 'Great.'
Andy: 'Wonderful?'
Bronson: 'Fantastic, thank you.'
Andy: 'You're getting paid.'
Bronson: 'Yes.' And that forty cents an hour really adds up after a while.

Andy checks Bronson for metal and finds none. He fails to check Bronson for a special assortment of plastics, which might have been a good idea because Bronson's been warned by his manager not to commit any acts of sexual harassment in the house. Apparently Bronson's prone to that sort of thing, or he's prone to being prone, one of those. But Bronson likes to do things he's been told not to do, so everyone in the house can look forward to being sexually harassed by Bronson, starting with Andy. Of course, this is Andy we're talking about, and he likes that sort of thing. In fact, he loads Bronson onto the back of a golf cart and drives him up to the house with that traditional prison greeting, 'Your All-Star Survivor is mine!' So if you ever wondered about Andy, you're a very sick person and should be put down like the mad dog you are, but at least you found out before you were justifiably killed.

The Surreal Estate has a new theme this season: to get to the front door, you pass through Jerry Mathey's giant screaming mouth -- wait: that's a clown face: my bad -- and then head into the extensively redecorated house, which has been done over to give it a circus theme. The faces of the houseguests are on the walls in advance poster style, the fonts are all taken from act descriptions, carnival colors abound, and the prisoners, who are getting a few bits of treatment that almost make me want to commit a crime, starting with them, even got a couple of Skee-Ball machines, the lucky unspeakables. There'd better be a major compensating punishment ahead.

Bronson's first reaction to all this Technicolor splendor is a desire to throw up. He's always hated circuses -- but he's getting paid, remember that, he's getting paid -- and describes the place as 'a beautiful mansion with crap all over it', not to mention all the sewage that's going to be living inside it. We do get a bonus in one shot, though: there's a cannon on the premises! For the first time in reality TV history, we have a chance of seeing DAWs actually getting shot out of a cannon! -- wow, the audience just increased to eight people. That's an all-time high! And all it took was treating the DAWs, as Bronson puts it, like circus freaks! Which is of course a completely unfair and prejudicial statement. Circus freaks make at least minimum wage.

A little wandering around the Estate (accompanied by circus music) lets Bronson find a poster that says 'Marvel At The Man From Mypos!', which is presumably referring to him in some oblique way or the camera wouldn't have shown it, and a picture of him dressed in the native costume of the only people ever put to death in a concentration camp that had Carson as the commandant. Bronson hides this behind a couch, which immediately begins to corrode. Bronson then uses the house phone to check in with his manager during a shot which proves that picking your nose can be a good thing just to avoid shots like that. (He also eats a banana during the conversation. Pitiful attempts to upgrade from circus freak to circus monkey will be ridiculed as they happen.) He lets his manager, who really has nothing better to do with his life, know that he's the first one in and he doesn't recognize anyone in the other pictures on the wall. However, they're all very young and they're all women except for one guy. (This is wrong. There's actually three males in the house, but one has no picture up -- yet.) Bronson's manager warns him to be careful.

Apparently Bronson's manager has some extra information that he really should have shared with Bronson, because that wasn't a sexual harassment warning: it was a 'I kind of hope you don't die or I won't have anything to try and pick up girls with'. The next person approaching the Estate is someone you have to be careful of, and around, and actually you'd be saving a lot of time if you just tried to kill her now and save yourself, except that we're not sure she can actually die. You may know Houseguest #2 from the first season of The Apprentice, and you may know her as She Who Must Not Be Hired -- but, for the purposes of this summary, we're going to use her real name again. Given her presence, the punishment for getting Skee-Ball is in place, as is the punishment for anything the DAWs have done in their lives to date, plus anything they'll do after they leave the house, plus the next six incarnations, and there's a good chance their next ones may start in nine months because killing yourself to get away is a perfectly viable option. Voldemort is getting out of the car and walking up to Andy, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop her. I'm actually trying not to feel sorry for Bronson. He's a DAW, sure, but what has he done to warrant a Voldemort in his life? Killed a few people? A few million people? Approved the FOX fall schedule? For one of the few times in reality TV history, we may have suffering overkill, and that's just having to watch this thing. Poor, poor Bronson... But Voldemort's circus poster shot shows her in front of an exploding cannon, so we have Hope again, which is the second greatest of all treasures. First greatest would be watching the cannon explode with Voldemort in it. And why is she on this show? Is she hoping to reform her image? Is it true that she's been passing information to Snape because the new Dark Lord is Lucius Malfoy and she's so annoyed, she's switching sides? Or is there a new version of Imperio that works through television screens? No, Voldemort is here because she likes to make people suffer, and Crucio has nothing over getting six people locked in a mansion with you where they can't escape. Ask Bill about that, if you can catch him in one of those rare moments when he's not twitching.

There's a brief clash of mystical auras when Voldemort reaches the desk, but ultimate evil trumps ultimate annoyance six days out of ten, and this happens to be one of them: Andy momentarily bows down to his master, then asks for her last name so he can properly check her in. 'Riddle' went by the boards a long time ago, so Voldemort chooses to identify herself by the single name only. Andy notes that this is kind of like Cher. The pop-up window notes that Voldemort is recently separated from her husband of five years. The encyclopedia entry for the praying mantis notes that the female bites off the male's head after mating. This is provided purely as a point of information and should not be construed as having anything to do with Voldemort. You may now throw up.

'Most people see me as a villain from a reality show,' Voldemort tells us in a pre-show confessional-tell, 'but I'm actually much more brighter than Donald Trump.' Which makes the tape grind to a screeching halt as the words 'more brighter?' appear on the screen. Parseltongue has some weird grammar structures, and also a few odd priorities. Voldemort loves what happened on her first reality go-round, because it gave her the kind of name recognition it normally takes years of work or one really bad audition on American Idol to achieve, even if virtually no one's willing to say the name after they recognize it. Remember, kids: it's fun to be hated by America! It's great to set the cause of women in the workplace back by fifty years! It doesn't matter what they know you for, as long as they know you!

Crucio's starting to look like a mercy, isn't it?

Andy tries to re-exert his annoyance by noting that Voldemort is a huge be-yotch, then asks if she's be-yotchier than him. Voldemort believes that depends on how much money and power are up for grabs (forty cents an hour and none), not to mention how much she'll feel like hurting him later, because if death couldn't hold her, a cut-rate dementor who drains all the sense of humor out of people doesn't stand a chance. And she has no sense of humor, so he's in deep trouble. (At this point, the pop-up window notes that Voldemort paid her way through Hogwarts by entering beauty pageants. Ah, Imperio. Is there anything it can't do?) Annoyed at this minor show of dark spirit, Voldemort takes Andy hostage with his own security baton, tells him she's taking all her stuff through the gate and that includes the cauldron, and he's going to drive her up to the Estate at top speed and not give her any lip. Evil has its perks and shutting Andy up is one of them, so all this happens exactly as Voldemort predicted it. As she c-t notes, she may come across as a little abrasive, but she never gives anyone any trouble if they just surrender all free will to her. Oh, and good girls may go to heaven, but bad girls go everywhere, and she's personally going to take over the wizarding world, which may or may not include VH1, because they've always come across as something of a Squib.

Bronson, either not knowing his ultimate fate or scrambling to get on its good side, greets Voldemort at the door and helps her with her luggage. Dueling c-ts bash each other's appearance, with Voldy taking stock of Bronson's weight gain (minor) and vomit-inducing Hawaiian shirt (major), while Bronson sees that Voldemort's discarded the traditional robes for an outfit that would be more at home on the lead villainness of an 80s soap: his apt line is 'A photo op with legs.' (Said outfit includes some truly stupid sunglasses and heels that are mostly good for breaking one's ankles in a series of progressional .00001 bone cracks. Once again, we can only hope.) He's also quick to take stock of her swarmy attitude, which makes him the billionth person in the world to be more brighter than Donald, or at least catch on faster. Still, they at least recognize each other without helpful hints, and manage to hold off the first attack while Voldemort explores the house, looking for a bedroom she doesn't have to share. This is a lost cause: there are two rooms, one boys, one girls -- but with Voldemort looking for eye candy, it does bring them to the picture wall, where they see another poster font declaring 'Behold The World's First Supermodel!' Both note that there were supermodels twenty years ago, so they're getting someone at least five times as old as your average Big Brother contestant. Gee, do you think that person is going to arrive next?

You're so good at this.

Our next houseguest is Janice Dickenson, also known as a special assortment of plastics, who may or may not be the world's first supermodel. She certainly seems to think she is. She feels her picture should be in the dictionary next to 'supermodel'. She also feels 'supermodel' should be in the dictionary, but then, most of them could be pressed between the pages without creating a bulge in the book's spine, so maybe she's just making a statement here. She certainly makes a habit of them, because you may know her from America's Next Top Model, where she makes a career of insulting anyone who looks better than she does, which means she's spent the last few years of her life Never. Shutting. Up. She's been romantically linked with several celebrities, but only the ones who'll bed anything with a pulse -- actually, the pulse is optional -- Stallone and Beatty, people: it just has to hold still -- and written several books, for that given value of written that allows for someone else to take your tape-recorded ramblings and translate them into something that'll pass for English. Her best-known, which I've never heard of, is called Everything about me is fake -- and I'm perfect. Fifty percent is still a failing grade.

Janice freely c-t admits that she's been on self-destruct for many years, has serious anger issues, and recognizes that people consider her the be-yotch of ANTM, but she's been through a twelve-step program to deal with the drug and alcohol problems, and that's why she's still around today. So not only do we need the FDA to approve more potent alcohol and ease off a little on the drug restrictions, but if we're very lucky, we'll get to see her take twelve steps again -- backwards. Our first title fight is on the card: Janice vs. Voldemort. A million dollars in maintenance plastic surgery vs. 'If I get bored with this look, I'll just take over someone else's body.' And it won't be Janice's, because there isn't enough biological material left to move into. This could actually be a fair fight. Way to go, VH1 casting! And to prove that there's going to be a fight, let's look at Janice's personal philosophy of life in c-t, which is, in mild paraphrase, 'You're either my friend or my foe, and if you're my foe, I'll eat you alive', which is just one of the many tactics she uses to keep her looks. And for the record, the breakdown looks like this:

Janice's Friends: The Voices In Her Head, At Least A Few Of Them.
Janice's Foes: Everybody Else.

But don't worry. Her schedule's really full, so it'll take a while before she gets around eating you.

Andy confiscates Janice's cell phone after taking a quick look at the dial list, Janice reassures Andy that he's better in bed than Warren Beatty -- like that's an accomplishment -- oh, yuck! -- confirms a couple of fake areas, and takes the ride up to the mansion, where Bronson and Voldemort greet her at the door. Janice and Voldemort immediately lock eyes. Janice says 'Foe!' Voldemort echoes 'Foe!' They then extend their arms, link up at the elbows, and dance around in a circle while singing 'A foe! A foe! We're going to meet a foe!' Kennedy briefly drops by to tell them that since they've both gone Foe, neither of them will get the forty cents an hour for their stay in the Estate.

Back inside, Bronson is impressed by Janice's look, available for $1,202,750 at any good Beverly Hills fashion studio and outpatient center, while Janice is bored by Bronson's entire career, existence, and the fact that he's not a supermodel. People who aren't supermodels are automatically on the foe list. (So are supermodels. Competition.) Janice isn't c-t surprised by Bronson being there because she was expecting complete morons. Not that Bronson's really been one so far, but all of her foes are complete morons, or they'd be her friends. And speaking of complete morons who happen to be on her foe list, Voldemort takes Janice through the house as if she was selling it, brings her into the girls bedroom, and announces that this is where Janice will be sleeping. With Voldemort. Janice's c-t reaction requires about six seconds of lightly scattered bleeping to cover. (I would have needed fifteen.) That's right, people, it's Janice Dickenson, starring in the completely unnecessary remake of Sleeping With The Enemy. You may now throw up again. But at least Voldemort's better in bed than Warren Beatty.

Since Janice hates all models for not being her, taking her jobs, and not having aged yet, we should probably get one in the Estate. That's the cue to bring in Caprice, whom I've never heard of. Ever. In fact, before she got out of the car, I'd never even seen her. And I didn't care, but that was sort of automatic. So this means I'm going to judge and introduce her mostly on her own words. (Gee, isn't this awkward.) According to Caprice -- and doesn't she just look trustworthy? -- she's an international supermodel, which means she mostly does covers in Europe and the United States might hear of her one day if Janice would take a week off from shooting people as they got off the plane. She wore a revealing outfit one day to give out an award and was the darling of the British tabloids by the next morning, which basically tells you all you'll ever need to know about the British DAW standard. Caprice has been Maxim's International Woman Of The Year three years running, which is kind of like being a Playboy centerfold, only without the dignity. She's generically blonde, sort of attractive in that Maxim 'We airbrush earlobes, too' way, is American with just enough time spent in the UK to alter her accent, released a record that bombed, and is currently being molested by Andy at the security desk. Andy is being a complete Dicque, smelling her undergarments, using the metal detector for a purpose it wasn't intended for, sniffing Caprice and getting his lips entirely too close to her in the process -- no, wait, he just didn't -- and now it's my turn to throw up... Caprice demands to know what's wrong with Andy, but this isn't a twelve-hour show, so there's no time to hit the highlights. Instead, after being maced, hosed down, beaten to a bloody pulp, and having his genitals crushed in a vise -- sadly, all off-camera -- Andy drives her up to the Estate as Caprice c-t claims to be a businesswoman who didn't get on this show by being a schmuck. She may be right. She may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic they're looking for. And with Janice and Voldemort already on-site, we're overstocked.

Everyone's down in the living room, so there's no door greeting this time: Caprice has to find them. She enters complaining, but with good reason -- the immediate topic of discussion is how much Andy deserves to die -- then introduces herself all around, adding that she doesn't expect anyone to know who she is. Janice, who is prohibited from seeing international magazine covers by restraining order, lets go with a very sarcastic 'No duh!' while sipping from what her twelve-step program wants us to believe is water. Caprice, in turn, doesn't know who any of her housemates are, and if you're living in the U.K. and you don't know Voldemort, you've got an isolation problem.

Bronson's not impressed by the newest arrival. In his own c-t words, 'If you took a plastic Barbie doll with a jointed crotch that didn't even have a (female genitalia) and then you sucked the soul out of that, you'd get Caprice.' Uh-huh. And if you took the acting talent of a stick figure and made sure it didn't appear on television for twelve years, we'd have you. (Hey -- maybe that's Andy's dementor type! He sucks away careers! And since no one in their right mind would get near him, his power is always active on himself!) And you said you were attracted to someone who admitted she was plastic, then started trashing someone for looking plastic? Hypocrite. Of course, that's nothing compared to Janice, who thinks Caprice's altered accent is pretentious. Uh-huh. Someone who's been a supermodel is perfectly qualified to tell when something is pretentious. This is how you tell. If it exists and the supermodel isn't doing it at the time, it's pretentious. I hope that cleared it up for you.

With the family meeting going so badly, it's time to bring in a calming influence: the family pet. Meet Lucky. You will like Lucky more than anyone else in the Estate. Lucky isn't a DAW, at least not any more so than other dogs. Lucky is a nice, friendly, cuddly animal who just wants your love and respect and some food in his dish. A prosthetic wouldn't hurt, either. Lucky has three legs. He's an old circus dog and lost a hind leg in a carnival accident, but he gets around pretty well. However, he's not a supermodel, so he immediately goes on Janice's foe list. Her c-t reaction to his hopping arrival from behind the living room hay bales -- yes, you read that correctly -- triggers c-t cursing. Janice doesn't like amputees because they have this great opportunity to become even more plastic than she is, and they don't take it! Stupid, stupid amputee dogs... Janice feels the Estate is insane. Janice isn't exactly quick on the uptake, is she?

This would normally be the point in the show where someone breaks down -- probably Janice -- and calls her agent, demanding to be rescued -- but we're still waiting for houseguests. Given that everyone has to be there before someone can make the annual attempt to leave, let's go down to the gate and meet Sandi Denton, also known as Pepa, also know as someone The Brat's probably never heard of. Working with her partner Salt gave her one of the first Grammy nominations/wins for a rap artist, which was an improvement over her work as a telephone solicitor without even being a real career change: as long as it involves annoying people with sound, she's all good. Her early lyrics include 'givemewhatiwant, givemegivemewhatiwant', so if you're looking for someone to blame for the gangsta obey-or-die culture of today's rap artists, she's always available, although she's usually available and hiding behind the couch because the gangsta thing to do is kill everyone who came before you so you can claim you invented the whole thing. She's had platinum albums and singles, which means she actually has talent, which sort of brings up the question of what she's doing here until you remember that this is VH1 and she's way past her rinse cycle. But in this case, she hasn't worked in a while because Salt, not liking the way the rap industry was going, retired to become a minister, and Sandi went for the family life and started raising two children. As such, the Estate is probably her announcement to the world that her career will be restarting shortly. And if you're wondering why this introduction is relatively light on bashing, it's because Sandi comes across as a regular human being who just happens to be living in the Estate with a group of lunatics for a week. Long-time SL watchers know what this means. This is The Parent. Every season, you get one person with some traces of sanity whose job it is to keep the others more or less in line for seven days. She's patient, she's kind, and she's jinx-resistant. She also gets virtually flipped off by Andy, who can't be bothered to initially search her baggage or drive her up to the house: she can just take the golf cart up herself and some unseen camera hand will drive it back to him later. This isn't racist, of course. This is Andy, and he's just being a Dicque again: the molestation angle was used, so now it's time for his 'The KKK wouldn't have me' routine. Of course, you can't do your racist act without some kind of harassment, so as soon as Sandi starts up the road, he chases after her and demands to search her luggage for false bottoms. Sandi does the sensible thing and accelerates. (The noble thing would have been to accelerate in reverse.) Andy wanders away muttering about unruly prisoners while planning to continue his false bottom search when Janice leaves, thus guaranteeing that he'll find one.

Sandi's parent status is further cemented on entering the house (again, having to go down and find the others). In the most terrifying development since we learned the title for Book #6, we have just found someone Voldemort likes. Sandi actually receives a hug from Voldemort without having her skin burned off as Voldy extols the virtues of Sandi's talent to the household, openly gushing about how she couldn't ask for a better person to share the Estate with. (Sandi's impression of Voldy is not recorded.) Sandi even likes Bronson, because she remembers him from some Eddie Murphy movie that gets played on TBS once in a while. Sandi even likes -- okay, let's not push this. Janice puts Sandi on her foe list because rap magazines wouldn't put Janice on the cover if you paid them, and gives her the standard 'I hope you die. I hope I'm the one who kills you. I hope you reincarnate so I can track you down and do it again' expression she's been greeting every housemate with, and waits for her next bottle of what probably still isn't water. (And you thought Nixon could do an enemies list?) Voldemort, starting to regret her earlier roommate choice, leads Sandi to the room the women are curently using, which has a bunk bed and two small standards, which could -- ooooh -- potentially be taken by one (or more) of the boys. Sandi takes the news of potentially sharing a room with males with a passively happy 'Oh, okay!' and settles in.

Males, males -- the Surreal Estate needs males -- Andy does not in any way, shape, or form count -- ah! Here's one! This is Carey Hart, not to be confused with Corey Hart, or Cory Hart, or Curey Hirt, or any of the dozens of people with mild variations on that name who could conceivably wind up on a Surreal Life season, and he is --

-- he is --

-- help...

Estee?

Fishercat?

What's wrong?

I have absolutely no idea who this is or what he does. I don't recognize him at all. And when I tried to Google him...

What happened? He should be on lots of web pages.

Do you know how many quasi-celebrities with a name that's some variation on 'Carey Hart' are out there? And you know how badly people spell on the Internet?

...oh.

I have six hundred thousand pages to look through. Most of them involve sunglasses being worn at night. They're bringing on eyewear designers now?

Want some help?

Please.

Will do. Carey Hart is the only extreme sports star not named Tony Hawk to never host a Road Rules/Real World challenge. You'd figure they would have gotten to him eventually, but instead, they just started repeating people. Draw your own conclusions. It may be standards. It may be that he's too much of a rebel for MTV. Or maybe he just has taste. It's hard to tell with these people. He does freestyle motocross racing, which probably makes him the daredevil for the circus theme: he was the first person to do a complete backflip on a full-sized bike and he's been a professional racer since he was twelve, which means he makes a hundred thousand dollars a year in winnings and pays three hundred thousand a month in medical insurance: fifty-six broken bones over his career, and that includes one really bad accident a year and a half ago that nearly took him out of the sport. Both arms and both legs. But he's one of the guys who basically founded the thing, so he came right back. He dates Pink, has a soul patch, one huge tattoo covering his entire torso and both arms, and if you'll turn your attention to the screen, you'll see him taking on the Dicque.

Wow! Look at that! Andy just tried to stop him from going through the metal detector -- Andy pushed him backwards, and Carey is just laughing -- and now Carey's pushing Andy out of the detector gate! He's still laughing, he told Andy he sucks as a security guard, and he jumped in the cart and drove it away, with Andy chasing after him, demanding to search for marijuana!

Not bad, huh?

...I think I not-hate him.

And now Andy just quit. He said he can't do this job and walked off.

Wait! Who's going to keep them inside now?

Fishercat?

Well, maybe they'll hire Ant as a temporary replacement... Back at the Estate, Carey wanders through the house until he finds the women gathered in the bunk bedroom, where Caprice had just asked Janice about the wildest thing she'd ever done, and Janice dismissed her by telling Caprice that she, Janice, the Queen of the World, was a supermodel before Caprice even had pubic hairs. This lets Carey, who's c-t told us he hates divas, walk in just in time to pick out Janice as the biggest diva of the group, even more so than Voldemort, whom he knows from reality TV and having the Dark Mark appear over three of his motocross events. The ladies of the Estate declare Carey to be a hottie and start trying to get him into the bunk under Caprice just to see if he likes having a woman on top. Carey's never shared a bedroom with multiple women and doesn't seem to be all that certain of having picked a good time to start, but takes it as the price of being stuck in LA traffic and starts adjusting. It's not that hard -- he makes a near-instant connection with Sandi, who he sees as the most grounded person in the house (plus she really likes his tattoo), loved Bronson's show, and so decides he's looking forward to his stay. And that's after racing with a helmet.

The group knows they're waiting for a seventh person, but they don't know who it is: the top row of pictures on the wall is covered with a draping cloth. (An angle-changing shot of the wall shows the pictures are lenticular images: from one angle, they show the person's circus tagline -- Voldemort's is 'Ultimate Reality Villain!' -- and as you move past them, the face starts to appear.) Everyone's curious about the identity of the last guest, so they start working on plans to get the drape off, or at least get a peek underneath. Bronson suggests that Carey, as the daredevil, get on his shoulders and reach for the top. Janice points out that they have the hay bales in the living room, and they could be moved and climbed. This is a decent idea that just happened to have the great misfortune of being born from Janice and shouldn't be judged on its parent, so everyone starts shifting bales, for that definition of 'everyone' that includes Janice lounging around in a chair, watching all the others work. (Just because she gave birth to the thing, she doesn't see a need to put any effort into raising it.) The bales are awkward and required some close-quarters effort to move, which leads to Sandi joking about rolling in the hay with Bronson, which will come back to haunt somebody, sometime -- but they do get stacked, Voldemort lends out a broomstick, and the handle is used to lift the cloth a little. The houseguests can't see much -- the angle is poor and the lenticular image is hard to scan -- 'It's Michael Jackson! It's P. Diddy!' -- no, that's next season -- but Voldy makes out a baseball cap and figures they're getting a player. Her c-t wish is for Sammy Sosa. Eight million Cubs fan agree with her completely, but that's getting back to the whole punishment thing again.

Still, Voldy's close. Think Sammy -- and you think home runs -- and you think steroids -- and you think of -- right! Houseguest #7 is revealed by the season's first Surreal Times delivery, complete with cover mug shots. It's baseball's version of The Juice, the man whose makeup bag includes both The Cream and The Clear, someone who literally couldn't remember his own life to save his life. You may know him from such baseball teams as the Oakland Athletics and the Texas Rangers, or you may know him as the player who had a ball bounce off his head and over the wall for a home run, which might explain the memory issue, not to mention the man who blew out part of his career because he decided to pitch an inning and completely messed it up, or you might even know him as Madonna's ex-boyfriend, or a Bash Brother, or a really, really, really big DAW, but you probably know him as Jose Canceso because you saw the name on the rookie card before you tore it in half.

Bronson's the one who finds the paper and immediately races it down to an impromptu family meeting, where the bad news is delivered -- and taken badly. Bronson gets the honor of reading some of Jose's career highlights -- ramming his ex-wife's car into a very solid object on purpose, domestic battery -- which gets Voldemort to say 'Two words: restraining order.' Janice's reaction is to ask if Jose is the one with the big mouth, because she lives in a don't ask, don't tell, do share your special weight loss pills with a friend if you have any, and if Janice is asking whether someone has a big mouth and Voldemort doesn't want to associate with that level of villainy, you're going to have problems.

Aggravated assault, 2001 -- failed drug test, 2003 -- the hits just keep on coming off Jose's bat, and Caprice looks like she's on the verge of grabbing her luggage and running for the door after a c-t fear of Jose staying in her room. Janice decides this is vile, and once again, don't treat the idea as a bad thing just because it came from Janice. The poor thing can't help itself.

Now. The steroid thing. Jose likes steroids. In his book, Jose told the entire world that steroids were a good thing if used properly for muscle building -- never mind the tumors, cancer, and death. Jose said lots of players used steroids, named names, and even said he'd helped supply some of them. He even helped inject some of them. Jose couldn't keep his own career straight in the book. Jose did not say all this to get baseball cleaned up. That's what started to happen, yes. It wasn't his intention. Jose's intention was to sell a lot of books. Why? Because Jose is a DAW. The results were good, the motivation stunk. Jose Canceso is a jerk, a wife beater, a (censored), a (censored) (censored), and I'll be happy to say it to his face at any time. Jose is one of the very few people on the planet who deserve to be sentenced to a week of confinement with Janice and Voldemort. The others are DAWs. Jose is a (censored) (censored) (censored) (is this even anatomically possible?) and the best possible result of this season would be for him to overdose and die on a live reunion show. And if he needs me to help inject him with the fatal dosage, I'll be happy to fly out there and do my part to improve humanity. All I ask is that I get to cut off his head, stuff the mouth with garlic, and stake the body. Just in case.

Jose isn't getting any not-hate in this summary.

Carey, on the other hand, decides the charges don't necessarily describe the person, and he's not going to start hating Jose just because he's done a bunch of things in the past. He's going to wait, meet him, and then form an opinion. Carey is a surprisingly mature person. He also has no direct experience with Jose Canceso to educate him, so I'm going to let his naivety slide for now.

A limo starts to approach the Estate, and the strongman of our circus starts to introduce himself. He talks about his achievements. His records. His career. Himself. He induces vomiting across America, which at least makes some of the supermodels happy. And he c-t says 'You either love me or you hate me. There's no in-between.' No. Kidding.

Jose gets out of the limo -- sadly, Andy was no longer at the gate to run over -- walks down into the living room, and immediately picks up on the mood. 'I'm in trouble now,' he announces, and he is, especially since Sandi, as The Parent, is defensively gripping a pool cue, ready to bash a Bash Brother before he hurts any of her children. Carey shakes his hand normally, Voldemort shakes it as if forced to draw up a truce with Dumbledore, and Caprice c-t expresses the general mood: everyone's afraid to talk freely because they might set him off. This leads to the following exchange, as evil admits that motivated self-interest can, once in a great while, trump it.

Voldemort: 'Can I just apologize in advance for anything I might say while in the house?' (Read that as many times as you need to until it sinks in.)
Jose: 'I'll probably beat you. Don't worry about it.' (And that one.) This is followed by his looking Voldemort and Sandi over, then saying 'I'm definitely going to victimize you two girls.' (And even that one, if you've still got time.)

Voldemort watches Jose leave the room, then mouths to Caprice 'He's going to beat me!' And suddenly, rooting against Voldemort isn't quite as much as fun as it used to be...

Next season on The Surreal Life: tune in for the hilarious housemate antics of the BTK serial killer!

Of course, a little Jose bashing wouldn't be complete without letting the houseguests go for it, so Bronson c-t wonders why Jose wasn't dragging a club behind him like a Natural History display of Cro-Magnon man, and Janice notes that conversations with Jose (starting with his noticing her height because if it's really obvious, he may get there) tend to operate on a seven-second delay, much like his swing during the second half of his career. Jose, for his part, takes in the size of the beds in the boys room and decides he's sleeping on the couch. The group exhale can be heard in Nevada.

If anything, Jose's presence is making the women of the house (minus Janice) bond. Voldemort realizes that her reality villain image isn't going to protect her here, but a firewall of bodies might. That means it's time for some new Death Eaters, and if Caprice and Sandi are all she's got to work with, at least it'll take Jose some time to tear through them before getting to her. All three grab a pool cue and pretend to play a game just so they can have a weapon handy, but Jose interrupts with his arrival, declaration of couch claiming, and intent to try out the pool table as a bed, because it's softer than a jail mattress, and did he mention he spent four months in jail? Isn't that interesting? Isn't it fun, getting to know your housemates? Isn't it sweet, listening to Carey c-t that he's sure Jose is getting the worst of this because he's sure his new companion is past the whole wife-beating thing? Don't you hope that if Jose does snap, it's during the Dirty Laundry episode and he'll take out Sally Jesse first?

But -- well, did you ever wonder why some women stay with abusive men when they know it's bad for them? There's a visual lesson coming up. Jose decides to play a game of pool with a slightly intimidated Sandi, who got out of the rap wars just to avoid this sort of thing. Jose leans over the pool table. Voldemort and Janice note that Jose has, for lack of a better term, a really well-shaped rear. They admire his rear. Voldemort takes out a camera and takes a picture of his rear. Janice lies back on the couch and makes tentative plans to acquire that rear for personal use, although there is the question of how that sort of thing could work out with a seven-second delay involved. He's a wife abuser and a druggie and he's been in jail, but he's got a really well-shaped rear and that releases him from a horde of sins while setting up a few more than he'll get out of later because he'll still have a really well-shaped rear, which probably helped him get through jail in one piece, even if it didn't feel like it at the time. All hail the well-shaped rear, for it has preserved Jose once again. Stupid, stupid hormones...

There's a brief pause while everyone pets Lucky, the sun goes down, and the first night finds Voldemort gathering blackmail information from Jose. She wants to know all about his domestic battery. Jose says it was just an argument and someone called the police -- read his book. She wants to know about his injecting other baseball players with illegal drugs. Read the book. She thinks it undermined all his accomplishments as a player. That's dealt with in the book. Why is Jose even in the Estate? To get you to read the book. Which you should do. At the bookstore. While no one's looking. And then you should bend all the pages, dirty up the cover, autograph the title page with 'Sucker! Sincerely, Jose' and leave it on the shelf. The key thing is not to buy it.

Bronson thinks Voldemort's being cruel, and that she would have retreated in tears if she'd been the last one in and had received an interrogation for a greeting -- apparently Bronson's figuring that if he turns over his lunch money now, he won't get beaten up later -- but Voldemort's gotten over her earlier fear, because even a really big Muggle is still just a Muggle. Instead, she goes right for the heart punch, or slightly lower: haven't Jose's primary sexual characteristics been shrunken by the drug use? Jose placidly invites her to see for herself later. By this point, there is not a single member of the audience who hasn't thrown up at least once, and my new book, The Surreal Life Diet: Watch Your Way To Your Ideal Weight, already has three publishing houses bidding for it and a fifty-cent advance. Thanks, Jose!

'So basically,' Voldemort finishes, 'you're saying you don't have a temper.' Seven seconds later, Jose acknowledges the interpretation. 'Good,' Voldy replies. 'I do.'

I have never said this before and I'll probably never say it again.

Go, Voldemort.

There's a brief conversation between Jose, Sandi, and Caprice that really can't be accurately reproduced on a PG-13 board, concering the joyful odors produced by seven DAWs in one bathroom, which turns out to be the reason Jose isn't married and if anyone knows something worse that'll give him a reason not to date, speak up -- and then it's dinnertime, with Sandi serving up Jamaican dishes. Amazingly, some of these people have an appetite left, especially Carey, and Sandi can really cook -- but not as well as Janice can take out what little desire to live anyone has left.

It starts simply: Janice asks Sandi how she got discovered. Sandi starts to tell the story. Janice, who's sitting next to Jose, starts to openly (and loudly) admire his forearms, then begins pushing up a sleeve to get to the rest. Sandi stops and asks Janice if she's paying any attention to the answer she'd requested. Janice assures Sandi that her complete attention is on the story. Sandi resumes. Janice resumes loudly fawning over Jose's artificial muscle tone -- but if the plastic can't admire the chemical, then what's the world coming to? (Voldemort's expression has to be seen to be believed here: disbelief with a touch of anger at the disrespect being shown to Sandi. Even villains can have heroes of their own, and it's becoming very clear that Sandi really is one of Voldy's icons. This probably means she'll be killed last.) Jose, in what might somehow turn out to be ironic later, asks Janice to hold off because he didn't request all this touching. Sandi realizes Janice just asks questions to have something she can talk over and tries to finish the story for the others. Janice interrupts with 'Get to the point.' The entire table freezes up.

And of all people, it's Jose to the rescue, faking a moment of humanity by turning to Sandi and asking 'So, how did you become famous?' Some laughter results, and Sandi finishes up. Bronson, who has sunk to a place that only twelve years of not working or being a complete jerk can take you, c-t decides that he likes Janice's attitude, looks, and the fact that she doesn't come with an expiration date, then mainstream reaches out to touch her a bit of her hair, coming near her blouse in the process. Janice takes verbal exception to Bronson violating his manger's orders, tells him where to go and what to do once he gets there in both mainstream and c-t, then gathers her plates and leaves. This, of course, only serves to increase Bronson's attraction. She couldn't have made a worse move if she'd glued his elbow to the desk. For some people, the best thing you can do to scare them off is return the affection, because they take rejection as a form of flirting and have no idea how to handle acceptance. I know that if Janice came on to me, I'd be over the nearest hill before she got all the words out.

But we're dealing with Bronson -- and that's what brings us to Controversial Moment #1. Not since Susan and Richard -- no, wait, people actually saw that one. Never in the history of uncared-about reality television has such a moment of pointless overdrama been paraded before -- wait, no one was watching -- been rolled past two people -- hang on, it's VH1 -- one person in a lonely editing room -- booth. What happened, you ask? This is what happened. Sandi is trying to talk to Janice in the kitchen. Janice is drinking from a glass that was apparently filled using another bottle of not-water. Bronson comes up and puts his arm around Janice's waist, asking how tall she is and commenting that she smells like frescia. The contact was not asked for, so under the letter of the law, this is in fact sexual harassment (but so was what Janice did to Jose, for whatever that's worth). Janice reacts by retreating to the other end of the kitchen counter -- but not until after several seconds pass: it takes her some time to actually shake Bronson's arm off. She starts into her loud mode, telling Bronson he can't grope her. And she's right: he can't, but there is a technical line somewhere between waist grab, grope, and molest, which is the next term she pulls out. Bronson, now either firmly delusional or reaching for comedy that doesn't exist, tells Janice that he knows they're going to hook up in the Estate, and then confirms 'delusional' by repeating it for c-t. The rest of the household watches as Janice retreats behind Sandi. Bronson points out that the contact involved in that equated to groping under Janice's definition, then offers Janice a hug so he can demonstrate non-groping for the cameras. Janice refuses, c-t adding that Bronson's creepy. Bronson offers again, more insistently. Bronson's manager faints. And Janice, whose busy little mind has been using all this time to figure out just how this incident can suck up as much camera time as possible, goes directly for time-honored Surreal Life tradition and fake-quits.

'I don't know what part of the teasing got her mad,' Bronson c-ts. 'All I know is that we were having fun and then she wasn't talking to me.' Three things, Bronson. She wasn't having fun. She doesn't talk to people: she talks at them. And all you did was give the little diva an opportunity to make it all about her, which she takes with glee and turns into one of the better executed fake exits I've ever seen. How do you make a fake exit? You call for someone to come get you. Do you call a taxi to come up to the Surreal Estate so you can be out within an hour? No, you call a friend, because a taxi would be on the way quickly. Well, wouldn't a friend also be on the way quickly? No, because you call your friend Paula in New York, and it's two a.m. out there, so it may be a while before Paula can pick you up. This gives you lots of time for the housemates to come to you and kiss your feet, doing everything they can to make you stay, and if the camera isn't on you the whole time, the discussion will be all about you. You, you -- wonderful, marDAWish you.

Voldemort starts off the 'We have to make her stay' with a c-t: 'I am so excited that there is someone on this show who is a bigger drama queen than me.' Go ahead and consider the source. She's still right. Of course, she mostly wants Janice around so she can take notes and if we're very, very lucky, Voldy will kill her first. Which means I now want Janice to stay. Anything that ends with the possibility that some of these people might die has my full support. Especially since Paula, or Pablo, or Polo -- the pop-up window can't make a decision, and the voice is decidedly male -- may be a tape recording, placed there by Janice for just such a camera-hogging opportunity. She's been a supermodel for a long time, y'know. Making it all about you takes practice. Everyone decides that with such an advanced class in progress, they'd all better take notes, so the other housemates head for the phone room, where Bronson prompts the next lesson by again insisting that he didn't grope her. Janice gives her students a seminar in fake crying, making sure not to look at them for very long so no one can see how fake it is -- such expertise! Such commitment! Such an idiot savant! -- and continues to talk to an increasingly confused Pueblo, whose tree branch programming doesn't contain an appropriate response for the situation.

'Get out of here or I'm going to quit!' Janice declares, forgetting that she already fake-quit. 'I'm bolting!' (Replace the 'b' with a 'rev' and you'll be right there.) And then, with the Piano program having run its course, she's forced to hang up. 'I'm quitting.' *fake sniff* 'Where's my room?' Because when you leave the house, you head right for the place you stay in the house. By the way, want to know how many taxis are in the LA area? Lots.

Caprice c-t demonstrates her intelligence by admitting that she's not sure how much of that was real, adding 'I just think she knows what makes good TV.' Close, Caprice. It's not good TV. It's not even decently bad TV. It's DAW TV. But I'm going to give you five points for figuring it out. (Just remember: retire from the industry while you've still got time, or you too might turn into -- Janice.) Carey gets one point for believing that Janice was tired and frustrated and looking for a place to snap. Bronson gets to sit without a phone call from a major network for twelve more years by admitting that there might have been a touch of tickling involved, but still no groping, and definitely no cigars. And Sandi wins The Parent Job and a big -5 to her score by believing every word her foster daughter said about wanting to leave, then gently leading her away for some counseling, and by the way, if Bronson's grip was groping, then Sandi's means they're married. And finally, Bronson catches on, c-t realizing 'She's damn smart and she realizes that people love to see crazy people and friction and drama -- and she just let it roll.' That's right, Bronson. That's absolutely right, even on seven-second time delay, so I'm giving you a B on the test and not destroying your entire career, mostly because that's already been done and what's the point of reducing the shards down to individual atoms?

Sandi leads Janice into the bathroom and gives her a pep talk: she's beautiful, she's special, she's the only reason people watch ANTM -- you know, all the standard lies parents feed their kids when they're upset -- and Janice exits with her ego freshly stroked and a full quarter of the episode's film time belonging to her alone, ready to face tomorrow and claim the next day's majority of camera opportunities for herself, too. She calls Paulo back, tells him she's fine, receives the confirming modem buzz, and hangs up after a quick c-t declaration of her desire to indulge in just a touch of incest with her new mommy. Because that's just the kind of person Janice is. And because that would mean major camera time. This, however, does not mean Sandi is off the foe list. No one gets off the foe list. Ever.

With everyone worn out from tending to Janice -- an ego that big takes hours to stroke -- the household prepares for bed. Caprice takes charge of Lucky and tries to walk him, but Lucky's mostly interested in sniffing everything in sight, so Caprice gives up on him after several minutes and leads him back inside. Janice declares that the house is going to get spicy real soon, because there's forty-eight minutes in an episode and she wants all of them. Carey decides the place is a circus, and there's plenty of clowns. Lucky urinates in the living room, because he can. And Bronson c-ts 'We're circus freaks. It reminds me of a cheap carnival where everybody's gone home and our moms somehow forgot to pick us up.'

Bronson -- poor, naive, sexually harassing Bronson -- what makes you think they forgot?

This season on The Surreal Life: Jose wears a bra! Sandi eats a banana! Caprice rides a dirt dike! Janice insults mentally handicapped people and then tries to fake-escape out a window! Bronson tries to sleep with everything in sight! Carey is the subject of a million crushes that he's totally going to deserve! And Voldemort turns out to be the normal one!

...I don't even believe I just wrote that. Peace, over and out.

(Unofficial because we never got a series-specific sign-up thread or any real interest on the general summer one. If you want an episode, volunteer: all of the remaining slots are available. May or may not lead to the final cancellation of the series. Will not lead to Janice leaving ANTM, but remember that line about Hope? Go to VH1.com because you've got to get the visuals on the house: there's a thousand little circus touches that I couldn't mention in the summary without making it forty pages, and they named the workout room The Juice Bar. Special credit to Fishercat for the help with Carey's career details. Not a flying toy, but if that cannon goes off... And thank you, Mr. Barnum, wherever you are!)



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  Table of Contents

  Subject     Author     Message Date     ID  
 RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... jkokoj 07-11-05 1
 RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... DonnaLynn 07-11-05 2
 RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... J Slice 07-11-05 3
 RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... Fishercat 07-12-05 4
 RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... geg6 07-12-05 5
   RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... uglier than sarah w 07-12-05 6
       RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... ginger 07-12-05 7
           RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... Estee 07-14-05 8
   RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... Estee 07-14-05 9
 RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... AMAI 07-19-05 10
 RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life ... seahorse 07-21-05 11

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jkokoj 4389 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Jerry Springer Show Guest"

07-11-05, 03:47 PM (EST)
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1. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
EXCELLANT!!


courtesy of RollDdice


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DonnaLynn 582 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Reality Show Commentator"

07-11-05, 04:16 PM (EST)
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2. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
ROFL! Loved it! I don't know how you were able to put all the things that happened into words so well! Thanks a bunch!

--Donna :~)

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J Slice 13166 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

07-11-05, 05:21 PM (EST)
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3. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
Way to make diamonds out of charcoal.

::applause::


Who knew Bronson Pinchot'd be so pervy?

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Fishercat 4168 desperate attention whore postings
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07-12-05, 00:30 AM (EST)
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4. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
I could say I liked the part about me, but that would be conceited...I liked the part about me. Seriously, fantastic summary, although I'm not sure if I will be able to cope with the concept of Voldemort not only being second bitch, but also the relatively normal one.

Would anyone seriously object to Canseco and Dickinson having a flying contest to see whether chemically enhanced muscles fly farther out of the cannon than various life based elements, primarily silicon/secondarily iron/tertiarily carbon (not necessarily carbon based, more diamond based)? Winner gets run over by Carey Hart on a motorcycle, loser run over by Drew Carey.

I got Sliced and Iced!
I'm airing it out.

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geg6 14941 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

07-12-05, 09:34 AM (EST)
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5. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
If I didn't know that his last earthly remains were going to be blasted into space soon, I'd swear the Gonzo man was doing summaries for RTVW.

Great tribute to HST, even if it wasn't.


I'm such a slut for the blues.

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uglier than sarah w 303 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Cooking Show Host"

07-12-05, 11:04 AM (EST)
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6. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
I feel that I can sleep easier after reading that stunning piece of a summary! Great work Estee, can we get it published?!
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ginger 22511 desperate attention whore postings
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07-12-05, 05:45 PM (EST)
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7. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
Jose's tush is nowhere nearly as entertaining to observe as you summarizing garbage like this. Still, having fallen on this particular grenade at least a couple of times previously, it was fun to see through someone else's (bleeding, throbbing) eyes.

Keep going!
Keep going!



So I'm going to wind up sympathizing with She Who Must Not Be Hired? Heaven forfend.

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Estee 55195 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

07-14-05, 05:47 PM (EST)
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8. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
I think I scared everyone away from the live minefield. Look at that empty summary signup thread. 'Mommy, the mean original supermodel is gonna eat us! Alive!' Isn't there one person on this board who likes falling on grenades for fun?

If the early pattern holds up, we're gonna be calling Voldy Tom by the fifth episode.


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Estee 55195 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

07-14-05, 05:48 PM (EST)
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9. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
Great tribute to HST, even if it wasn't.

Can't have been. At no time did I mention gambling and/or booze.

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AMAI 1254 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Beef Jerky Spokesperson"

07-19-05, 11:50 AM (EST)
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10. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
Awesome recap, Estee.

I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially since we in Canada won't see the show for 6 months to a year from now.

Please continue recapping the whole season, won't you? I love the level of detail and all the side commentary!!!


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seahorse 14337 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold"

07-21-05, 03:13 PM (EST)
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11. "RE: (Un)Official RTVW Surreal Life #5 Episode #1 Summary: There is a DAW -- Born Every Minute..."
Great job, Estee. You rock.


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