When this week’s episode begins, we’re reminded that Iliza won last week’s challenge with 68% of the vote, ridding the world of Papa CJ and Paul Foot, an act that should win her some kind of Congressional medal or at the very least, a commemorative plate from the Bradford Exchange. She tells us–and I’m paraphrasing–how awesome she is and I sincerely hope she doesn’t smother everything she does onstage with a blanket of ego.
The boys are already afraid of her. Louis has gathered the other XYs around the kitchen table to try to make some sort of pact that they won’t vote against her again because “the show is becoming about her”. Gee Louis, maybe it’s because she’s talented and she’s personally eliminated four comics like some kind of audience-baiting black widow spider. You probably should be afraid of her.
They’re loaded onto the short bus for another fifteen minutes of pointlessness, this time at a Japanese restaurant. Host Bill Bellamy is waiting for them–wearing a kimono, natch–and tells them that the special of the day is comedy so they’ll be serving the customers teriyaki-style entrees and teriyaki-style jokes. Seated at the tables are female (?) bodybuilders, the Deal or No Deal girls, frat guys, AND MIDGETS. THIS SHOW KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT. And those two things are hibachi-cooked steak and little people.
Jeff and Marcus are trading off impressions, hoping that Jeff Goldblum will win over the female weightlifters before they snap the comics’ femurs for being unfunny. Aaaaand of course we follow that up with a Christopher Walken apertif. Doing a Christopher Walken voice has become the “why don’t just we make the plane out of the black box” of impressions. Louis tells us that he was “sweating his balls off” and that he just gave up, a revelation that had to negatively impact that restaurant’s sanitation rating unless a team of custodians was immediately dispatched to mop up the balls.
When they get back to the house, they’ve received another clue in the form of silicone breast implants placed all over the house, SOME EVEN TOUCHING THEIR PILLOWS.
Cue Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” as they all climbed back into the short bus and were driven to the Playboy Mansion because when the producers planned this season’s challenges, they probably didn’t anticipate having a (straight) woman make it to the finals. Everyone is given the task of writing a bedtime story and reading it to three of the Playmates, the completely interchangeable stars of The Girls Next Door who have no idea what this “reading” is that everyone seems to be buzzing about. The winner of said challenge will not only receive immunity for this week, but will automatically make it to the final performance in Las Vegas.
Each girl is given the title of the story and the comics have to fit their words to match that title. Ron G goes first, telling the girls the tale of “Jack & the Bean Stalker”. Sort of. He gets lost in his own narrative–distracted by boobies–and after watching him self-consciously giggle for five minutes, I wish he was back in Atlanta working for the cable company or something. To his credit, the girls invite him onto the bed, so he should probably disinfect his clothing. He asks them if they “like dark meat” and everyone laughs, because they are retarded. Kendra, the one who probably struggles to comprehend the label on a Snapple bottle, said she liked “how the whole thing rhymed”. If by “the whole thing”, she means “two lines”, then yes, it did.
Adam is next and he makes the crucial mistake of attempting subtle humor and wordplay with his story, “I’m the Same Age As My New Mommy”. He would’ve had better luck trying to read his book to a birdbath.
“The Pirate, the T. Rex, and Grandma” is what Iliza has to talk about. She bases the story around casting models at the Playboy Mansion and does several character voices, one which makes the T. Rex sound just like Butterfly McQueen. The girls like how she put their names into the story because–just like my puppy–their names are one of the few commands they can understand.
Louis was assigned “The Princess Who Had to Pee”, a tale that ended with the delightful moral “every girl needs a gay friend”. The Bunnies said they liked it because you “could actually read it to a kid”. I hope these woman have all been sterilized.
Sean is wearing a suit and telling them that “Dragons Just Don’t Understand”, a narrative that centers around Stanley the dragon who couldn’t be sexually aroused by other dragons. He lost them when he used the word “cobbler”.
Marcus and his many impressions–including but not limited to Christopher Walken, Adam Sandler, Eddie Murphy, and Jack Nicholson–told “All Dogs Go To Heaven But Grandpa Didn’t.” The girls
wonder if all of those people are trapped inside his head think his impressions are funny but still “like Dark Meat Man”, a nickname that is as racially sensitive as they come.
The girls seem to be terrified of Jim which is understandable because he looks like a fetus wearing a hat. None of them laugh at all when they hear “Pretty People Always Get Their Way”, the prequel to “And Sometimes Hugh Hefner Has Sex With Them”.
“Daddy Loves Mommy, Mommy Loves Lattes” is what Jeff got stuck with. He named the latte Bridget and Bridget the Bunny was just delighted.
Hugh Hefner wanders onto the set, perhaps accidentally, and asks what was going on. He probably would’ve asked the same question even if the comics weren’t there. I mean this very seriously–has he had a stroke? Because the only thing more painful than watching the girls try to comprehend a story was listening to him speak.
They can’t decide immediately, but their favorites are Dark Meat (Ron G), “Tall Vanilla Latte” (Jeff) and “Tattoo” (
Herve Villechaize Marcus). Eventually, they settle on Marcus, then return to their everyday tasks, things like Euclidean geometry, particle physics, and coloring books.
Bill decides to shake things up like a comic-filled snow globe. He tells them that they aren’t going back to the cemetery, probably because they haven’t finished burying Papa CJ. Instead everyone but the now-immune Marcus will be performing three minutes of comedy in the final showdown and America is going to vote to “decide their fate”. Iliza laments that this is “exhausting” and I totally feel for her.
After 829 commercials, they recap EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED IN THE FIRST HOUR. This show is always 50% too long. Jeff says that he “really wants to win”. Iliza reveals that she’s doing a brand new set. She’s also wearing a crew-neck shirt instead of a v-neck, which could be a “Bill Belichick switching to a red hoodie for the Superbowl”-type of bad wardrobe decision. Sean–who gets more face-time on this show than anyone–is warbling about something but I’m too busy focusing on the fact that he looks EXACTLY like the offspring that would result if Will Ferrell actually mated with John C. Reilly.
We’re at the final showdown and Adam “Semi-Hot” Hunter is up first. He riffs on being “so broke you combine food that shouldn’t be combined”, like Captain Crunch and Red Bull. Um, who SAID they can’t be combined? He talks about doing mushrooms and having sex until “her vagina started barking” at him, which made me laugh. He threw out a couple of political jokes that got a meh reaction, but other than that, it was solid. If he doesn’t make the cut, I’m blaming his GIANT PIT STAINS.
Iliza and an unfortunate pair of skinny jeans is next. She breaks out her new jokes, bits about girls who hate each other and best friends who call each other names. She followed up with finding out you have “one friend that gets creepy when they get drunk” who says things like “I had a crush on you in high school but now I want you dead”. And to close–something that’s becoming her trademark–doing a joke that involves a funny walk. John Cleese would be proud.
Sean Cullen is ridiculous. He is using a bizarre, unplaceable accent that doesn’t sound Canadian. He opens with something about making little pants for animals and then says he’s written a song for the farmers because he thinks that he’s John Cougar Mellencamp. Aaaand now he’s singing. Aaaand now, somewhere, there’s a cruise ship talent director who is frantically searching for Sean’s number. First, the positives: this song sounds like it could’ve been written by Barenaked Ladies. And the negatives: this song sounds like it could’ve been written by Barenaked Ladies.
I spent the next three minutes wondering who pressed Jim Tavare’s suit. There’s no way it made it from England to LA looking that pristine. He plays his bass, does jokes about committing suicide, and when the camera cuts to the crowd, half of them are entertained, the other half look like they’re watching a Discovery Channel documentary on the history of mulch.
Jeff has said he has to “nail this” about 38 times and apparently “nailing it” means saying “right?” all the time and laughing at your own jokes. He was funny, but is just a bit unpolished. He talked about watching a movie as a kid then watching it as an adult and thinking “maybe I should’ve just left this as a memory”. He said that the song “My Favorite Things” sounds like it was written by a homeless guy and then discusses other homeless people, like his dad and Super Mario. Jeff’s chances depend on the age demographic of the people voting. If it’s teen girls who think he’s hot and hipsters who dig Nintendo jokes, then he’s in. If it’s fortysomethings, he’s done.
I admit it. Ron G was actually funny. His entire three minutes were about how much it sucks to be single, especially if you’ve been gone all day but don’t have any missed calls. “I need to join a church…or a gang or something”. He also jumps into how women make men’s interests seem stupid. When he asked his fake girlfriend (also played by him) “What you doing with your hands, snatching my dreams?” I laughed. I salute you, Mister G.
Louis was last and while I wasn’t crazy about his sex-heavy set–mainly because it made me think of him having sex–there’s no denying that he is probably the most polished performer of the group. His material isn’t the freshest but he has an experience and comfort factor on the stage that translates well to the audience.
Bill Bellamy comes out dressed like a fourth grader on school picture day and tells us that you can call in your vote or cast a ballot online on NBC.com. So no results until next week. Here’s hoping that everyone can sleep soundly until then…