First, thanks to Msjaqmills, bingo boy and uglycutiefor their very flattering and enjoyable comments last week. God bless you for reading and keep ‘em coming! When The CW gives you lemons, all you can do is make spiteful, derisive recaps lemonade. This show needs a major transfusion of twisted, but let’s dispense with the constructive criticism and piss out a pitcher!
Junoh & Smiley‘s apt. J & S fuck.
MP courtyard. Dr Whoren & Bad Pitt make out.
Angrie‘s apt. Angrie & Ashlee Simpson fuck.
Note to self: Free up TiVo space for The Vampire Diaries.
J & S’s apt. Post-coital Smiley scans their wedding invitation and complains to Junoh that her mom‘s idea of an intimate reception is 400 guests at Boston‘s ritzy Copley Plaza Hotel. J, looking way fresher and hotter than Taylor Lautner, says it’s just a sample invite and thus can be changed. Oh, no, S says, this is what her mother wants and intends on cramming down the cuddly couple’s craw– Mommie Diva-est is a bitter divorcee and is trying to give S the wedding and marriage mama never had. Am I a crazy defensive psychotic recap artist, or up to now have they been portraying S’s parents as boring and married? I’m pretty sure she’s been on the phone to both of them at the same time. But good for the writers for trying to juice things up a little by making her mother Omarosa.
J reminds S that she’s an adult and can make her own decisions. Forget it, “it’ll be three weeks of negotiations” and end up with Momzilla getting her way. J says bullshit– let’s go to Vegas and elope. OMG, no, Mom’ll kill me, S squeals. J says they can drive off at 6:00 and be married by midnight. S agrees: Yay, let’s do it!
Cru-Ella & Whoren’s apt./Rick‘s sports car. Cru morosely drinks coffee as W comes in and guesses Cru’s bad mood and sleepless night are because Junoh cut her off cold. Bingo, Cru says– she did “sell him down the river” on that Boomkat directing credit fiasco, and now she can’t even apologize because he won’t answer her calls or BBM‘s. W wonders why Cru is so upset; she’s pissed off lots of people before. Cru says J is the one man with whom she “can truly be myself”. But he’s engaged, W reminds her. Cru scoffs at the notion she might have a thing for J, but admits he’s “kinda cute”. W makes a “bitch, please” face then answers her phone.
“Eeeeuwww! They pay how much to do what to you WHERE?!!”
It’s Rick the former trick. Annoyed, Whoren tells him she’s “not looking to date anyone”. That’s OK, Rick just wants “daytime fun”. Well, that’s different. W says to meet at 3:00 at the Doheny Hotel. The hunk says they’re on.
Limo. Stuck in traffic, Amanda tells the chauffeur he’ll be driving her to NY himself if she misses her flight. A pulls out a set of blueprints for MP with everyone’s name scrawled on their respective apartments in bright orange marker. A stares at Sydney‘s, prompting a FLASHBACK:
Church. Tottering on fuck-you spikes, Amanda approaches Syd, who’s sitting in a pew. Miffed, Syd demands to know if A followed her here. A calls Syd “a thief” and says “I want it back… now!” Syd denies stealing “the painting“, but A says A didn’t have it stolen from an Upper East Side co-op “so it could be sent Third-Class mail”. Ahhh. art theft– how glamorously dull. Syd says her “client in Hong Kong” would gladly pay $19 million for it, but Syd doesn’t have it. A says Syd “betrayed” her. You’re the one who slept with MY boyfriend, S hisses. That BF, Dad (Dr Michael Mancini) is “happily married”, A tells her: “You and I were just strolls down memory lane for him” and Syd shouldn’t use Dad as an excuse to rip off A.
“Blowing a father and son? That’s gonna get you 12 Hail Marys and an Act of Contrition!”
Syd says she thought she and A were friends. Business partners, A corrects her– A stole the paintings and Syd “turned them into cash”… a swell arrangement until Syd got greedy. A wants that painting and will do anything to get it back, she icily informs the red-headed mess, then stomps out. Out of FB and through a Hi-Def-defying filter, A looks vaguely disturbed at becoming another red herring in this moribund murder “mystery”. MAIN TITLE.
J & S’s apt. Junoh checks out Vegas wedding chapels, including the Love Me Tender, which must have some kind of deal with Viacom since it also just appeared in the Amazing Race finale. (And speaking of Omarosa, can you believe what an evil twat white-meat fan/Miss America Ericka was to her totally sweet hot-ass husband Bryan? I sooo wanted them to win just so he could afford a new Benz convertible to pick up strange in. Although I also liked the Brothers Gay for no other reason than proudly busting the stereotype that all fags are clever and sophisticated.) Suddenly Cru-Ella appears, seeking absolution. You sold me out, J pouts.
Cru says she may come off as a “tough-as-nails bitch”, but not having J in her life totally “sucks” because he makes her believe she’s “better than that”. So happy to “boost your self-esteem,” J cracks. Cru says that even though J hates her guts right now, she’s not going to stop promoting his prize-winning short “Living In Reverse“. Don’t bother, J snips, but Cru ignores this and tells him she’s “working the press tour for Curtis Heller‘s new movie” and thinks she can score J a quick pitch. J scoffs that no way will a five-time Best Picture nominee take a pitch from J, but Cru says she can make it happen. She picks up J’s phone and accepts the invitation she sent him on Loopt, which techies know is a slightly creepy tacking device that enables friends, lovers and dangerously unhinged stalkers to keep track of each other’s exact geographical positions.
Yes, Cru, we know. Darren Star is gay.
Junoh admits that a pitch with Curtis is a nifty peace offering, but Cru needs to make this happen before 4:00 today. Uh, what’s more important than shmoozing a Super-Producer, Cru wants to know. J giddily confesses he’s running off to Vegas to marry Smiley. Perfect, Cru beams– you’re getting it over with quick, like “rippin off a Band-Aid“. Kidding, she quickly adds, lying. Cru covers her devastation well, hugging J and making him promise to “get married by Elvis“. Did I call it or what? Cru exits as J chuckles mildly.
Jail. Dad gets a through-glass visit from Tranny Wife Vanessa, who’s horrified to see her brilliant cardiologist hubby behind bars. It’s a misunderstanding, Dad coolly informs her, “you should know that better than anyone.” Tranessa says Dad was having an affair with Syd– was it easier to just kill the skank? Dad says T is the one who killed Syd! T is disgusted at this “pathetic” gambit, but Dad goes on to remind her that he came to see Syd that night, found the boozy cougar dead in the pool and T “running away”! Apparently unaware that jailhouse convos are easily monitored, Dad keeps blabbing: there was a necklace on the ground and Dad took it “to protect my family”– if T was pinched for the brutal stabbing, it would be traumatic for their klutzy moppet Noah. (So would seeing his mother’s penis in the shower.) Dad is innocent, and when they find T’s fingerprints, he’ll be exonerated and T will end up on Transgender Death Row. Before storming off, T utters the show’s best line so far: “You don’t just need a lawyer, you need a psychiatrist!”
Angrie’s apt. Smiley enters to find A cooking penne arrabbiata. A used to make it for his sibs when mom was working the night shift. It smells delish, but S is there to apologize: she should never have called the cops and ratted A out. She should’ve trusted A and is so, so sorry. Accepted, A says– how about a glasnost jog up Beachwood Canyon tonight for old time’s sake? S grins at the thought of A’s sculpted pecs and treasure-trail glistening with clean, manly sweat, then quickly remembers she’s kinda busy tonight and starts to scurry out. It’ll only take an hour, A says. S tells him she and J “are eloping”.
“OMG! How did the Tom Cruise replacement ‘droid escape the Celebrity Centre?!”
Angrie reminds S she’s been having “second thoughts”. Not anymore, she insists, but he implores her to reconsider– she’s not the same person she was when she met J and how can she commit for life when she doesn’t know what she wants from that life? S looks confused for a beat, then snaps that she wants a life with J and if A “can’t be happy for me, that’s pretty much your problem!” Ouch! A calls after her but she exits in a huff.
Bad Pitt’s apt./jail. BP gets a call from Dad. He needs BP’s help. No, you need a good lawyer, BP zings back. Dad says the night Syd died, she’d threatened to call Tranessa and expose herself as Dad’s fuck-buddy. Dad went over to stop Syd, but it was too late– Syd had made the fateful call and T got there first. BP scoffs that he’ll never believe a word Dad says, but Dad says for Noah’s sake, BP has to listen. Dad thinks T will abscond with Noah. The police won’t arrest her until “the forensics come back”, so Dad begs BP to pick Noah up from school “and keep him safe”. BP stares into the air, the gears in his brain grinding and smoking.
Doheny Hotel suite. TRick enters to find Whoren all dolled up. He appreciatively remarks that she’s “really gone pro” and moves in to kiss her. She averts her mouth and smirks that a “professional is always best for the job.” TRick offers her “a little treat”, some white capsules called Nexus, which he got from “a DJ buddy of mine”, which isn’t surprising since you have to be on huge amounts of drugs to make most club music bearable. The pills “make sex amazing”, TRick promises. W begs off– she “doesn’t do the whole drug thing” because of her weak stomach, she claims. Fine, more for TRick. W warns him to be careful– he doesn’t know how his body will react. TRick says he thought she’d leave her “MD hat at the hospital”. W apologizes, since nobody likes a preachy whore. TRick hopes she’ll have some champagne with him. Sure, she says, but they need to start sexing soon because the clock’s running. She starts to disrobe as he opens the wine and we all immediately realize W is about to be roofied like a Catholic schoolgirl on Spring Break.
“YESSSSS!!!! Another week and still not fired!”
J & S’s apt. S is surprised to find J is packed hours before they’re due to leave for Vegas. He says this trip is very important and he wanted to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Plus now he can concentrate on the pitch. He worriedly waits for Cru’s text but S assures him he’s “the world’s greatest storyteller”. Hyperbole much? J notices that S hasn’t even started packing yet. The perceptive mini-auteur wonders aloud if her slow prep means she’s “waffling”. Oh, no, not at all, S gurgles with a sunny grin. J sympathetically offers to call their parents and offer them a chance to meet them in LV to witness the nups. No, S says, her mother would force her to promise not to elope. Which is what she’s doing and she’s thrilled about it. They kiss. J’s phone buzzes with a Loopt from Cru– she’s at the London Hotel. J grabs his shit and rushes out.
London Hotel pool. Cru, in awesome thigh-high boots, kisses up to Curtis Heller, a blonde daytime drama-type (played by Nolan North from Port Charles, who was also Sasha Carlisle‘s doctor in my fave trash soap Spyder Games), then convinces the Oscar-magnet to hear J’s pitch by lying that Scott Rudin and Harvey Weinstein are about to meet with J, who’s conveniently waiting nearby. Cru introduces J as “the new Spike Jonze ” and a “genius” and Michael Rady communicates pages in one grateful look to his biggest, blondest fan. Cru whispers to J to make it quick and he nervously begins– by describing in laborious detail the opening shots of the film. Curtis zones out and Cru snatches J’s note cards away and tells him to just pitch the story the way he told it to her. J starts again: A 25-year-old who’s lost everything pulls his beat-up Jeep to an intersection… He can go right or he can go left, but what if he puts it in reverse and undoes all the mistakes that brought him to this point? Pretty good, huh, Cru gooses Curtis, who looks underwhelmed.
Doheny Hotel. TRick rolls off Whoren, exhausted from a full 50 minutes of sexo through boxer-briefs. Would it kill these network shows to at least try to give us the illusion of nudity?! W, who at least seems topless, asks if it’s hot in here. TRick didn’t notice. But maybe his unappetizingly shaven torso and armpits (for crying out LOUD that’s gay) keep him cool. He asks if W’s okay, cuz he feels fanfuckingtastic. W pulls on her dress, then staggers against the wall, vision blurring. Cut to:
Why do I think if I licked that it would taste like Secret?
Whoren sprawled on the marble floor as PRick stands over her, hairless muscles bulging pleasantly. You slipped me something, W groans. PRick admits he spiked her champers with Nexus, but she’s probably just drunk, since he took double that and feels fine. I told you I don’t do drugs, W whines, sitting up with difficulty. PRick says he thought if she tried it, she’d love it. He probably also said the same thing about the donkey-punch. PRick is all concerned now and asks if she needs a doctor. She tells him to leave through chalky lips. Chastened, PRick leaves. W looks like she’s about to blow chunks.
MP CY. Bad Pitt and bratty Noah enter. Noah wants to go swimming but BP says they don’t have time. They’re going to San Diego. BP shoves the tyke into his apartment.
Doheny Hotel/BP’s apt. Whoren rouses from her haze to answer her phone. It’s Bad Pitt calling to cancel their dinner plans because he has to leave town. Help me, Bad Pitt, W cries. Sweating and gasping, she tells him the hotel and room number. BP tries to look very alarmed.
“Um, yeah… I was doing flashcards with my study group and the next thing I knew I woke up hallucinating with a hyper-dilated anus. Go figure!”
London Hotel. Junoh & Cru-Ella light-heartedly commiserate over Curtis’s stupefied reaction to the pitch. Cru says J was brilliant and it’s Curtis’s loss. J says he’s fine being an unemployed videographer. Cru has a plan to chase away the blues: Kill Bill 1 & 2 at the New Beverly Cinema. (She does know him better than anyone, but that combo would be enough to make me commit hara-kiri with a grapefruit spoon.) J agrees that would be swell, but he has to go marry What’s Her Face. Cru wistfully tells him to “make sure she sees fireworks on her wedding night”. I have no idea if she’s talking about sizzling twat-busting sex or “Fireworks” the 1947 Kenneth Anger homoerotic underground classic short film. Since the writers’ idea of cutting-edge cinema is that annoying, bloated Tarantino crap, I’m guessing it’s sex. J gets in the elevator and goes down alone.
Ashlee Simpson’s apt. AS adds yellow chalk to a hideous multi-colored Warhol-esque portrait of Angrie when there’s a knock at the door. It’s BP with a babysitting emergency! Can AS watch Noah? Um, sure, why not? I know YOU, Noah says, prompting a weird look from BP. AS sweetly informs the tot he’s mistaken. Maybe he saw her flailing around on SNL. AS sets the kid up with some coloring as BP warns his horny psycho neighbor not to let Tranessa get her man-hands on Noah– she’ll try to run off with the little bozo since she probably killed Syd aka AS’s mom! I’m really sorry, BP says, apologizing for both the murder and sticking her with an annoying kid. AS looks vaguely disturbed.
MP CY, night. Tranessa enters, calling for Noah. She stops at the pool, TRANS-fixed. Cue the FLASHBACK!
“I may be a twat, but at least I was born with one!”
Syd’s apt./MP CY. Syd answers the door to T. “You bitch,” T spits. Syd sighs campily, allowing T to enter. Syd says she did T a favor– now T knows Dad’s “a lying, cheating pig”. T points out that he cheated because of Syd. Syd pours herself another Big Gulp martini and offers the classic Jerry Springer nugget about how if T had kept her man satisfied, he wouldn’t be plowing Syd’s red bush. T isn’t listening–s/he’s too s/hocked at seeing Bad Pitt passed out semi-nude in Syd’s bed. “You really are a whore,” T tells her. Syd’s ultra-witty response? “Takes one to know one!” “Mancini men really are irresistible, aren’t they?” Syd drawls, then adds that “the secret’s out”– BP gets “pretty chatty” when he’s tipsy. What secret could she be talking about? Perhaps that T used to sport a scrotum?
Tranessa says “that was a long time ago”, before T married Dad. It was five years ago, according to BP, Syd says. And by the way, isn’t Noah five? So Gasmii, it looks like T fucked BP, too! In what universe are all these women hot to bang Bad Pitt?! He has all the raw sex appeal of a Beanie Baby. This doesn’t sit too well with T, who shoves the Triassic titian temptress to the floor. The brief, badly filmed catfight ends when T grabs a handy butcher knife and stabs Syd in her bony breastplate. Syd rallies, spiking T in the head with a gold pump before shakily rising, smearing blood on the wall and staggering out of the apartment down the stairs to the pool.
The infamous gold necklace falls off Syd, who’s now crawling toward the pool. T comes up behind her and stabs her in the back, LITERALLY! Syd collapses into the water, blood spreading in a cloud around her scrawny corpse.
Don’t let her hear you call them “man-hands”!!!
Cut to Syd’s room, where T places the knife in Bad Pitt’s sleeping paw. So here we go again with the old transsexual killer-stereotype. It worked for Dressed To Kill , Terror Train and Sleepaway Camp, so why not here? Wait, my BF Martin just woke up from a nude sleep to tell me he thinks Tranessa is supposed to be a biological female. To quote our beloved Kandi from Real Housewives of Atlanta: Good thing he ain’t paid for thinkin!
Out of FB, Tranessa looks vaguely disturbed, and disturbingly drag queeny. Suddenly she hears childish giggling coming from one of the apartments. It’s Noah! Maybe Ashlee Simpson is playing her latest CD for him.
Sunset Strip gas station. Junoh & Smiley fill up J’s yellow shitbox and check the oil while S tells J that maybe Curtis Heller was “playing it cool” as a business tactic. J says who cares, he’s getting married tonight, and “that’s way more exciting than any Hollywood deal could ever be.” Apparently J hasn’t seen what they paid hacky hipster harlot Diablo Cody for that mega-bomb Jennifer’s Body, coming soon to a DVD bargain bin near you. Suddenly, a red convertible pulls up behind them. It’s Cru-Ella, who used Loopt to track them down, to S’s annoyance.
“Oh, come on! I just wanna fuck other people!”
Cru has huge news– Curtis is buying J’s movie and wants to make a deal “immediately”. J hugs and kisses S while Cru watches, stung, but covering. Curtis wants J to pitch it to the studio on Thursday. No problem, J says, they’ll be back by then and he can work on it in Vegas. S thinks that’ll be too distracting for J; they should postpone the trip. J insists that he wants to go as Cru says nothing, hoping like hell he’ll listen to reason. Cru gets a message from work– Amanda is coming back to town. Cru congratulates J and leaves to prepare for more of Granny-manda’s bullshit.
J senses something weird with S– what’s going on? Nothing, she says, except this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for J. J whines that he thought “getting married was once in a lifetime, too.” One marriage per lifetime? In Hollywood? Oh, Junoh. S reasonably says their engagement isn’t expiring and the wedding can happen anytime. Or never, J pouts, suddenly douchey. S looks slapped and tries to walk away, but J demands to know what’s up– is this about her evil mom? They can have the wedding in Boston or anywhere else, J doesn’t care. S says it’s about her: “Too much has happened” since they got engaged. She’s “unemployed, uninspired” and “completely lost”. J stares at her with mounting dread as she parrots Angrie’s platitude from earlier– how can S commit to sharing her life with someone when S doesn’t know what life she wants?
Sounds like a cop-out, Gasmii. And J knows it. His adorable puss darkens as S barrels on with more words no guy wants hear– she doesn’t want to hurt him and is “just scared”. On the verge of adorable tears, J says he has something “to calm your nerves”: “No more wedding, no more us!” He walks off up the Strip, leaving stricken S with their shitty car.
“Bangs are a super-cute way to freshen your look!”
Doheny Hotel. Bad Pitt races into Whoren’s room to find her passed out on the floor. He tries to revive her, but since he’s way better at putting people to sleep, fails. He settles for stroking her hair while waiting for 911 to pick up.
MP CY. Tranessa follows the sound of childish gurgling to Ashlee Simpson’s door and knocks. AS’s usual glazed look serves her well here as she calmly asks what T wants. T instantly recognizes AS from when AS posed as a prospective nanny to unnerve Dad after he and AS fucked. Even more suspicious now, she asks if AS has seen Bad Pitt and her son Noah. Nope, sorry. T says she just heard Noah, and it was coming from inside AS’s apartment. You’re mistaken, AS says, causing T to tell AS to get out of the way, T is going in. AS gives T a little shove and asks if T is planning on killing her the way she killed AS’s mom Sydney.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir.”
You poor thing, T says snottily. AS says Syd was the only person who ever loved her… and T took her away! FLASHBACK to:
AS’s apt. Syd enters as Ashlee Simpson asks if this is an eviction. No, it’s a tearful rapprochement, as Syd confesses that abandoning AS was a terrible mistake and Syd wants to make it up to her. AS looks mildly pleased and they hug.
Out of FB, Tranessa says “Give me my son now!” and pulls out a big gun. This just makes AS even loonier and she tackles T. They fall into the pool and have an underwater catfight which ends with AS quickly drowning her square-jawed nemesis. So let me get this straight, writing staff— the big thrilling reveal is that a satellite character (Syd) was killed by a tertiary character (Tranessa)?! WTF, dudes? It’s always smacked of cheating to me when a mystery movie or TV show pulls the culprit from a pool of under-developed background characters. No, we didn’t see it coming. But nor did we give a shit. It’s especially irritating when you have two perfectly disposable characters (Angrie & Ashlee Simpson) played by fired actors to make guilty– who wouldn’t want to see Ashlee Simpson being dragged into the gas chamber, or Angrie surfing, thinking he got away with murder and then ending up eaten by sharks? All I know (besides how to make a soap not suck) is that whoever the killer was, they really should have struck again (adios Bad Pitt!) and again (die, Noah, die!) and again (Adriana from the even more tragic 90210 gets decapitated in an ultra-promotable two-hour hybrid ep!)
“Look on the bright side, honey: You’re not the worst actress in your family…”
Just then, Amanda walks in, back from the fastest round-trip to NY in space-time continuum history. Back when the show was reportedly fun, the bitch saw every depredation allowed by the FBC censors, so another body floating in the pool hardly fazes her. (Although, as the building’s most mature resident, she should really lobby for a sign warning that there’s no lifeguard on duty.) She approaches basket case Ashlee Simpson, who clambers out of the water saying “She killed my mom”, and envelops the gal in a chilly embrace, promising that “everything’s gonna be okay”. Cut to:
Paramedics remove Tranessa’s body while sinfully sexy sopapilla Detective Chorizo questions Ashlee Simpson. Did Tranessa attack AS? She had a gun and “started to pull it from her purse” AS understates, clearly having learned nothing from her past brushes with the law. Luckily Amanda jumps in and claims to have witnessed the whole thing– it was definitely self-defense. T was trying to kill AS, who was merely fighting back. Cho moves off to speak to an extra and AS thanks Amanda. Amanda condescendingly tells her “someday you’ll find a way” to thank A.
Hospital. They wheel Whoren in, with a “hysterical” Bad Pitt by her side. A young Gay Doctor steps in and tells BP it looks like an overdose. BP is stunned.
“Any idea how all that semen got on her face?”
MP CY. Smiley watches the cops scurry around the crime scene. Angrie appears, his sweatshirt decoratively unzipped to reveal smooth, muscular man-cleavage. Isn’t S supposed to be in Vegas now? No, we’re not getting married, she tells him. Cut to:
Junoh & Smiley’s apt. S regretfully peruses her pink wedding-plan binder. Angrie is there, saying how sorry he “really” is. But better now than after going through with it, right? S can’t believe she “strung Junoh along” for months– “How could I do that to him?” Miffed, S says that even though what Angrie said this morning may be right, no way is this “for the best”. Angrie insists that she and J weren’t meant to be together, and challenges her to deny it. S stares at him, trying to look appalled, but he grabs her and plants a huge kiss on her gaping pie-hole. Ashlee Simpson watches through the window, understandably disgusted, since Angrie was fucking her just hours ago. AS slinks off and S pushes Angrie away– stop it and get out. Angrie gives her a scoffy look, and one last glimpse of his sexy chest, then exits.
Admit it, Smiley– for unemployed alcoholic Ashlee-Simpson-sloppy-seconds, he looks pretty damn good.
London Hotel. Cru-Ella is cleaning up the press junket suite when Junoh enters. He found her by using Loopt. Cru notices J looks like a bus hit him, so he tells her he and Smiley broke up– “I mean REALLY broke up.” Cru’s antennae shoot through the roof, but she manages to sound sincere when she tells him she’s sorry. Don’t be, J says, S never wanted to get married and played him for a sucker. Cru says J is nobody’s sucker (except maybe hers in a minute) and that he and S had good times together. But S couldn’t conceive of a future together– she never really got me, J says. Cru was right about them being a mismatch.
Cru sits next to him on the couch and tells him not to let S’s “flip-flop” detract from J’s dream coming true today. Chemistry bubbling, J says Cru’s right: This should be the greatest night of J’s life and he should spend it with someone “who believes in me”. He moves in for a kiss, and Cru tries to stop him, but he tells her to zip it and they melt into a sweet, fiery smooch as a musical montage kicks off:
MP CY. Ashlee Simpson tosses the godawful Angrie faux-Warhol into the fireplace.
Who knew AS was so multi-talentless?
Syd’s apt. Amanda watches AS, then tells someone on the phone that tomorrow they’ll be able to find out “if it’s in one of these apartments”.
Angrie’s apt. The troubled unemployed sous-chef bitterly considers a jug of tequila, then takes a sobriety-shattering swig.
Hospital. Bad Pitt stands vigil over Whoren’s coma.
J & S’s apt. Smiley watches the birthday video Junoh made for her and weeps.
“Hold it, buddy! When I said I was a fan of ‘Living In Reverse’, I meant your prize-winning short film– not anal!”
London Hotel. Topless Junoh passionately kisses Cru-Ella from behind as she strips down to lacy black underthings. She turns around, informing him that “I don’t want to be just a one-night stand.” J says she’s not, then starts nibbling her neck. Hold up, Guy Richie– are you absolutely sure you want to do this? He looks her in the face and says yes, totally. They make out and fondle each other, J’s cuddly trimmed hairy chest looking oh-so-lickable, then cross to the bed, where he mounts her. The End.
I don’t know about you, Gasmii, but I have an underwear model to molest. Wake up, honey– Mami’s finished blogging!