This week I met a woman with a service dog, but she wasn’t visually impaired. Rather, she had a heart condition, and the dog was trained to be able to sense when her heart rate increased, and nudge her in the leg so she would sit down instead of passing out from a standing position. I had never heard of such a thing before, and I was pretty amazed by the fact that dogs can do this. It made me want to do something good, to give back to the world in some way.
Then I watched Celebrity Apprentice, and remembered the true meaning of life: to hold petty grudges and amass as many famous friends as humanly possible.We begin this week with Ahmarosa, Trace, and Stevie B returning to the suite. Piers repeatedly scolds the other guys for stabbing Tito in the back, which they all sort of brush off because he chants the same damn thing every week. I’ll bet you anything this will lead to some sort of boy-who-cried-wolf situation. One day, Piers is going to be physically stabbed in the back, and no one will believe his cries for help. Boy, will he be red with embarrassment! Also, blood.
But now is no time for hypothetical homicide, though that is a great name for a band. No, it’s time for Trump to show us his solid gold apartment. The teams assemble there, and I can surmise no other reason for doing so other than for Trump to yell about how amazing his abode is and how many immigrants died in the gilding process.
Oh, wait, it’s so he can parade out his plastic family. Milania arrives with little Barron, who’s dressed all up in a fancy little suit and has, unfortunately, taken after his father in the hair department. Trump blares that some people have called this the “THE GREATEST APARTMENT IN THE WORLD” while Milania looks on blankly, most likely because her husband is using too many large words, like “the”. The Donald asks The Barron what he would like to do when he grows up, and the kid squeaks out something that sort of sounds like “business”. The candidates have a hearty laugh, probably because they can sense that snipers are poised and ready to take them down if they don’t.
“BRING ME A COOKIE. THE BARRON DEMANDS IT!”
Trump continues to update the group on the progress of little Barron, even though no one asked. Everyone appears to be fairly amused, with the blatant exception of a couple of Jealous Jennies.
“You poisoned the baby food caviar, right?”
Trump blares that the task this week is to sell art. Ah, the art challenge. Let the false pretentiousness begin! The teams are to pick an artist and sell their pieces at the Moti Hassan Gallery, and whoever makes the most money wins. The PMs are Piers and Ahmarosa, who points out that this was the task that she got fired on in the first season. Oh, Ahmarosa. You idiot. Why not just wear your “My PM record is 0-3 and I’m a colossal bitch!” sandwich board while you’re at it?
The music intensifies as Trump sends them off, along with some melodramatic close-ups of the candidates, then Trump, then, amusingly, Barron.
Dun dun DUN
Empresario meets with Moti Hasson (who may or may not be a villain from 24), and Ahmarosa talks to him in that weird way that no other human being talks. It’s like she’s reading cue cards or auditioning for a high school musical. She asks if there are any tricks of the trade, and he advises her to follow her heart. Then they all break into song and bust out some bitchin’ jazz squares.
Trace points out that there are only a few pieces of art that resemble anything, as compared to the rest of it, which he classifies as “three-year-old threw up on a canvas” stuff. Which is ironic because I’m betting that if The Barron threw up on a canvas it would probably sell for more than whatever these yahoos are ever going to make.
Meanwhile, Hydra is now meeting with Moti (who may or may not be a brand of Japanese cell phone), and they find out that the pieces from the artist who does new media (AKA television screen made out of popsicle sticks playing a loop of a pigeon crapping on a hobo) can be sold separately instead of as a series, which would increase the number of sales they can make. Piers immediately decides to go forth with this plan, as he’s banking on the fact that Ahmarosa isn’t smart enough to figure it out. Don’t worry, Piers. Ahmarosa still hasn’t figured out how to wear a hat correctly.
Keep reaching for that rainbow, champ.
Back from commercial, we get a nice shot of Stevie B yelling into a phone, “We’re selling ART. At an ART GALLERY.” Well then. I think it’s safe to call the win for Empresario. Stevie B’s on the case! Meanwhile, Ahmarosa continues to shit several bricks because this is a contact-calling challenge, and even she already knows that Piers is going to kick her ass into the next county with this one.
Case in point, Piers is now on the phone with bad boy chef Gordon ****ing Ramsey, who ****s and ******s under a **** of water-resistant ***** until a one-legged ***** has **** with a goat. Somehow, through the swearing, Piers is able to sell him a piece of art. He then keeps calling more famous British contacts, including but not limited to the Queen of England, David Beckham, Mr. Bean, William Shakespeare, Austin Powers, and Professor Snape.
“Saucy! But not right now, I’m in a meeting. Ring me later tonight, mate!”
Ahmarosa tells Stevie B to stop pestering the Moviefone guy and start informing himself about the artist. Yes, because Mr. Baldwin’s eloquent rendition of the artist’s concept is really going to make or break your sale tonight. I hope you people have some hors d’ourves on tap, because it’s going to take a hell of a lot of mini-quiches for this to reach anything above the level of “art school yard sale”.
At the gallery, Carol, Lennox, and Piers get their panties, boxers, and knickers in a twist over their assigned space. They get two galleries, but they’re in the back and people will have to go through Empresario’s first to get to theirs. Empresario is thrilled with this situation, of course, and Ahmarosa gives her team a little lesson in strategy, with hilarious results that I am not making up: Ahmarosa: “We don’t want them to flow into that other room.” Stevie B: “Question.”
“How does Jello work?”
Stevie B decides to snoop around the other team’s space for a little while, which incurs the wrath of Piers, who hypocritically yells at him for spying and cheating and eventually threatens to hit him. Piers, listen very carefully to me. Physical violence is never the answer. Except in the case of Stevie B, when it is the only answer.
Alright, time to open up this trainwreck to the public. Cue the fancy music! The masses arrive, only to be funneled directly into Empresario’s room by Ahmarosa. Piers catches wind of this scheme and sends over Lennox to wrangle the customers away, though all he seems to do is stand directly in the doorway, thereby preventing anyone from entering anyone’s gallery. Seems rather counter-productive, but only to the untrained eye. These are professional celebrities. They’re our betters.
We’re left on a cliffhanger commercial break as both Ahmarosa and Piers attempt to make some big sales. When we come back, Ahmarosa fails. But Piers succeeds in selling two weird rectangles with more moving rectangles inside them. “It’s really hard not to want that,” says the buyer. So I guess Hydra’s strategy includes giving their customers some free pot?
Dude. Whoa. Dude.
Hilariously, Stevie B’s contacts arrive, only to ditch him and buy a piece of art from Hydra’s gallery instead. Something tells me that Stevie B was that loner kid at recess who lit insects on fire. Piers makes a few billion other sales, while Ahmarosa glowers harder and harder, and Stevie B chats it up with group of girls and gives them directions to a funky Asian restaurant. Though sadly, no one stops to explain why Ahmarosa is dressed up like a go-go dancer from the 60′s.
Is it Halloween? I’m so confused.
Okay, boardroom time. Ahmarosa, who already looks completely defeated, admits up front that they only sold four paintings. Instead of the usual dog and pony show, Ivanka gets right down to the results. Hydra sold over $160,000 worth of art, whereas Empresario made a paltry $7,000, which, as The Donald is all too happy to blare, is the “BIGGEST SLAUGHTER IN APPRENTICE HISTORY”. How does he know that? I doubt Trump can even recall how many lobsters he had for breakfast this morning. I like to imagine that there’s some poor intern holed up in the boardroom cupboard whose sole purpose is to pump out those kinds of statistics.
“Let me out! Milania’s Botox reserves are stored in here!”
As a giant cloud of gloating threatens to implode the entire boardroom, Piers suggests that Trump fire two people from Empresario: Stevie B for not selling any art, and Ahmarosa for asshattery and general suckitude. Ahmarosa weakly tries to talk her way through their strategy, but is only interrupted by Piers saying that he objects to the outcome being referred to as a “loss”, when it should instead be called “a catastrophe of Biblical proportions”. Which was, incidentally, the original title of Stevie B’s autobiography.
Trump sends Hydra out, generously offering to let them watch the proceedings as if he just now came up with this idea, like it hasn’t already been happening for the past ten weeks. Good idea, sir! Here’s another one – why don’t you fire someone at the end of every episode? I mean, it’s crazy, but it just might work! Piers leaves the room with no small amount of ridiculous smarminess, while Ahmarosa sits there and eats it all with a stone face. For a moment I feel bad for her, but then remember a few weeks ago and her repeated chants of “I DO WHAT I WANT”, and my fiery hatred resumes.
Stevie B then comes under fire for not selling anything, despite his striking good looks and winning personality. He defends himself the only way he knows how, with a chipmunk face and more squintiness than you can shake a stick at.
“Let me answer that question with a ferret impression.”
Ivanka asks Ahmarosa if she thinks that she made a mistake in baiting Piers like she did, since she only ended up creating a monster hellbent on her destruction. Ahmarosa counters that he called her a tramp, a bitch, and a whore (his defense from the suite: “I never called her a whore,”) and that she had to defend her honor. Trump points out that she wasn’t exactly stingy with the insults either, and she admits that she said a lot of horrible things that shouldn’t be repeated, but that’s only because she knows some things about Piers.
Well. The Donald, his crooked old nose perking up at the slightest whiff of Drama and an opportunity to Yell Some More, asks what she means by that. She replies that she thinks Piers is in the closet. Trump starts blaring that calling someone a HOMOSEXUAL without knowing them very well is a big statement to make. Ahmarosa, now sounding more and more like a twelve-year-old girl, points out that Piers made Lennox and Tito take off their shirts in all of the first few challenges. The Donald yells at the screen for Piers to come back and defend himself, which Piers happily agrees to, putting down his champagne and bolting out of the suite.
When he arrives in the boardroom, he says nary a word, instead choosing to plant a big fat kiss on the big fat face of Trace Adkins. Poor Trace, who I’m pretty sure has been napping this entire time, is caught WAY off guard. Everyone laughs, except for Trace, who puts his head in his hands and looks really upset. Aw.
You now have syphilis.
The kids banter back and forth a little longer, but at this point even Ahmarosa knows it’s over. She tries, but not with the fiery, itching, burning, oozing power she usually does. Even Ivanka points this out, and Trump agrees. And with that, the bitch is fired.
Farewell, Ahmarosa. We’ll miss your…oh, who am I kidding. We won’t miss you even a little bit. Don’t let the door hit your assclown ass on the way out.
Well. That was some important television, folks. You’ll all remember where you were when the seemingly immortal Ahmarosa was fired for a legendary second time.
I myself was watching Lost. What better shows were you all watching?