Celebrity Apprentice: Ladder Infection

Know what I did last night? I went roller skating. At a roller skating rink. And hoo boy, it was a blast. It was as if the twelve-year-old hidden inside me suddenly broke free in a rush of fun, whimsy, and repeated travel around a wooden track in an orderly fashion. True, I got a blister. And true, at one point I was tackled by an elderly disco-skating man. But I recovered with a fair amount of dignity.

How does a roller skating rink relate to this week’s Celebrity Apprentice, you ask? Both feature a lot of this:

We begin this week with Ahmarosa in the Academy Award spirit, telling the camera that Mr. Trump “really, really likes me,” and babbling on in other various melodramatic idiocies. There is some more rehashing of last week’s fight but I honestly can’t stand this woman anymore so I just don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to my ROOM! Leave me ALONE!

Best Supporting Asshat

Then it’s time for the Obligatory Heartbreaking Charity Donation Scene, wherein Piers calls up the head of the Intrepid Heroes Fund and informs him that his charity will be receiving a shitload of money. And the result of this is that Piers has a mini-breakthrough, confessing to the camera that this has been a wake-up call and that he has now remembered the real reason he’s here. Which, as we all know, is the abundance of free muffins that magically appear in the kitchen each morning. And SPEAKING of which, you know what’s been absent this season? The hilarious early mornings with our plucky candidates tottering around in their pajamas and moaning like zombies. Why no wake-up calls at 5am from Trump’s secretary of the week? And don’t tell me it’s because Stevey B can’t suffer the indignity of being seen in his onesie.

The next day, the candidates arrive at a helipad outside the city. How they knew where to meet without a phone call from Annette the secretary is beyond me. Perhaps Trump’s hair also functions as a homing device. The Donald arrives and tells the kids that their task this week is to create a ten-minute live infomercial for QVC. Yes! I pump my fist into the air triumphantly. I LOVE live QVC challenges! The frantic screeching, the shouting of low low prices, the boundless opportunities for bumbling idiocy. It’s all great.

The teams fly off to Pennsylvania in helicopters (the ONLY way to travel to Pennsylvania) and arrive at the QVC headquarters. Hydra immediately gets stuck with the goofy oboe soundtrack, which as we all know means that incompetence is imminent. Sure enough, we then cut to Lennox Lewis, who is yawning and barely conscious because, as Piers smugly explains, he was up late last night drinking and is now hungover and exhausted.

“Oh, man. How many trannies did I take home last night?”

Piers insists that Lennox be the talent yet again, but Lennox protests, saying that he wants to be behind the scenes. “I’m a heavyweight boxing champion, but what I really want to do is direct,” he quips. Lennox, you’re hilarious! Now shut up and pose with the damn boxing gloves.

The teams then get a look at the products they have to choose from, which include a magnifying mirror, a utility tool kit, a bamboo storage drawer, a frying pan, an electric sweeper, and a ladder that turns into a cart. I know what you’re thinking. A bamboo storage drawer? Where’s my CREDIT CARD??!

It holds scissors AND forks! I will take five of these RIGHT NOW.

Both teams are immediately and ridiculously enamored with the damn ladder, gushing for what seems like hours over what really amounts to a glorified stepstool. Celebrities, you see, are simple folk. Just give them a piece of string and some bubble wrap and they’ll be occupied for hours.

Negotiation time! Both teams want the ladder. They start talking at each other all challengingly and corporate-like, as if to say “We are BUSINESSPEOPLE. Watch us BUSINESS.” Okay, so we’re gonna get some cool negotiating then, right? Because it’s Negotiation Time? Nope. Coin toss. To be fair, I’m sure this is how The Donald works out all of his deals:

“HEADS – I PURCHASE THE MOON, TAILS – I TAKE IT BY FORCE.”

After an impassioned plea from Stevey B to God to help him win the coin toss, Empresario loses and Hydra bounds off with their precious ladder. Stevey B explains this away by saying that the ladder was just not meant to be. Yes, it was fate. God clearly doesn’t want humans climbing up to be closer to heaven. Especially none of those meddling Baldwins.

Jesus called. He hates you.

The team mulls over their next move, eventually deciding to sell the electric sweeper. “What do you think of that electric sweeper, HOMES?” Stevey B barks to Tito, who replies, “It’s lightweight for women.” Yeah, Tito, I bet even a braniac like Jenna Jameson can figure out how to use it, provided she can find her way out of that elusive land known as “Central Park”.

It is decided that Marilu will be selling the ladder for Team Hydra. Even though Cryptkeeper Carol has five years of experience working with QVC, Marilu has two things going for her: 1) she also has QVC experience, having used it to hawk her many books, and 2) she’s absolutely orgasming all over the room because of this miraculous ladder. Because it’s a ladder, but it’s also a cart! A CART! IT CARTS THINGS AROUND AND YOU CAN ALSO CLIMB ON IT!

Empresario decides to put Trace on the air, along with a cute-as-a-button co-host who’s practically shooting puppies and sunshine right out of her ass. Meanwhile, Hydra hires an actual Ken doll named Rick to be their co-host. Marilu, on a ladder-crazed lark, suggests that he get on the cart so she can wheel him around. He is promptly deposited onto the floor. Everyone has a hearty laugh. And heeere come the oboes!

“Ha HA! You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

Ahmarosa suggests that Trace and Cutey Patootey have a little rehearsal, but Stevey B shoots this down, saying that he has faith that it’ll all work out. Things that Stevey B has also had faith in: the Patriots winning the Super Bowl, Norbit sweeping the Oscars, and Snuffy the Snuffleupagus winning the Republican Party nomination.

DonJr arrives via TRUMPCOPTER to the QVC studios to grill the teams. He agrees with Empresario’s decision to use Trace as the spokesman, but wonders if Marilu is going to be too talkative to be able to effectively sell the product. Then he parades around some more, trying to look imposing and important. Probably because he thinks that his father is watching him at all times, via TRUMPOVISION.

“Don’t tell Dad! He beats me with golf clubs!”

Empresario meets with a creative consultant, someone who knows the process of selling items on QVC. Ironically, the guy looks really uncomfortable and stressed about being paraded around on national television. Though it’s possible he’s just worried about his reputation being damaged by yahoos such as Stevey B, who asks if there is such a thing as an installment plan. The guy, positively quivering in fear, tells him about Easy Pay, which is a way to break up the payment into installments. Stevey B yet again thanks the Lord for giving him the inspiration to ask the question in the first place, a question that anyone who owns a television could answer. The guy then peeps that they can break it up into, at most, five payments. Okay, thanks, Piglet. You can go back to your hole now.

“I…I vomited in the corner.”

Now, hold on just a damn minute. Of COURSE you can break up the payment. Are infomercial products sold any other way? That’s why people BUY these terrible products, because they think they imagine themselves to be INSANE if they didn’t. I almost bought a 112-piece knife set with a bunch of friends, because we were all sitting around in drunken Cheez-Doodle-induced comas at 4 in the morning, and all because it was only four easy payments of $30! “We can afford that!” we all cried. “And then we can have a lot of knives!” I think there was even some credit cards pulled out and a phone procured, but it didn’t get any farther than that. We passed out. My point is, installment payments are the key to getting idiots to buy your shit. My other point is that these are exactly the kind of people who should NOT own over a hundred types of various weaponry, even if the arsenal is mostly made up of fish gutters and tools used to make those fancy radish flowers.

Lennox Lewis assumes the seat of director in the Control Room while an Olympic Torch Theme knockoff pounds in the background. Is this really necessary? Carol futzes around with the set, while Piers mans the phone lines or something. Whatever, it’s time to go live. Marilu and Plastic Rick start blabbing away about the ladder, while Evil Overlord Trump and his minion Ivanka watch from his office lair.

“Dad, I’m concerned. It’s been over ten minutes and you’ve mentioned my magnificent gams. You feeling okay?”

Marilu flits around like a meerkat on speed, climbing the ladder and popping out the cart and wheeling it around like it’s made out of solid gold. Plastic Rick plays his QVC part well, acting astonished at every simple task that she performs. The phrase “IT’S A CART!” is used liberally. Marilu, in an odd choice of sales mode, keeps talking about herself in the second person, at one point making it sound like she’s outing poor Plastic Rick, screeching “It’s great for you, it’s great for your husband!”

“What? Ha HA, surely you jest! What husband? Get out of town, YOU!”

Trump comments to Ivanka that Marilu has a lot of energy, but she’s talking too much. Marilu goes on to confirm this by talking over all of the people who are calling in to say how much they like the ladder, which they never get to do because she’s too busy screeching “IT’S A CART!” Trump disapproves.

“SURROUNDING MYSELF WITH PICTURES OF MYSELF IS A 30 BILLION DOLLAR INDUSTRY.”

Time for Trace’s pitch. He does very well demonstrating the electric sweeper, which can pick up practically anything, including nuts and bolts. Trump is seriously impressed by this, but maybe that’s because The Donald doesn’t know what a vacuum cleaner is. I’m guessing he has a team of servants that purchases his cleaning supplies for him, another team that covers those supplies in 24K gold, and yet another team that encrusts them with diamonds. Then, once said vacuums are ready, they are used to clean up the dollar bills that he’s been using to make snow angels on the floor.

From what depths of hell came this appliance demonry?!

Boardroom time! Ivanka smolders.

“I may let you live.”

Trump commends both of the performers, bringing up yet again the sheer amazement of the vacuum’s nut-and-bolt capabilities. Finally, a solution to the real litter problem plaguing the housewives of America! For too long have the men of this great nation left nothing in their wake but a trail of nuts and bolts. Well, no more! Meanwhile, Stevey B points out that they used Easy Pay in their sales pitch, and the face of every member of Hydra goes completely white. Yeah, even Lennox. And with good reason too, because the results are announced and Empresario is the winner. Trump tells them that they did a great job, AGAIN throwing in how great the nuts and bolts were, and then sends them on their merry way.

“NUTS AND BOLTS, YOU’RE HIRED!”

Trump asks why Hydra didn’t use Easy Pay, as everyone under the sun has heard of installment plan payments. Why didn’t Marilu and/or Carol mention it, since they’ve both been on QVC before? Trump asks Carol if she’d ever heard of it, and she lies to his FACE that she has not. How dare she. See, this is what happens when you’re too Botoxed for your facial expressions to betray you.

Piers points out that the person who contributed the least was Lennox “Sleepy Boy” Lewis, who was half passed out for the first part of the day. Lennox counters that he was only asleep on the helicopter ride, not for any part of the actual task.

Lennox? Care to defend yourself?

More banter follows, but none of it is very interesting. It is ultimately agreed upon by the majority of the team that the blame should really fall on the PM, Marilu, who keeps perking about how she was so PASSIONATE about the product that it would have been practically impossible to suppress any of the energy surrounding it. I know how she feels. I was once in love with a shelving unit. It ended badly.

Marilu chooses to let Carol go free, which is of course a terrible decision because Carol’s the one who shit the bed on the whole Easy Pay thing. Piers and Lennox take every opportunity to remind Marilu of this while they wait out in the hall. Haha, nice work, boys. Marilu twists her mouth like there’s no tomorrow.

They go back into the boardroom and the whole thing is hashed out once again, but nothing new is really added. In the end, The Donald really has no choice but to fire Marilu. And, as always, he says goodbye in the classiest way possible: “AND YOU ARE A TERRIFIC WOMAN. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE.” He’s so subtle. Marilu twists her mouth one final time and leaves graciously and, unsurprisingly, with a shitload of enthusiasm. Farewell, little jumping bean. May you and your ladder have many happy years together.

“IT’S ALSO A CART!”

So there you have it. What did we all think? How many ladder/carts and nut-and-bolt sweepers did everyone buy? I got ten of each!