***Letter from the Editor: I received some reader requests for this show, and once I sat down to watch it I couldn’t believe that I needed a few emails to wake my ass up to the situation. I called up Hypnotoad, America’s Most Smartest Model recapper, and dragged him out of retirement. I assigned him over a week late, so he should be caught up by next week! And now, a round of applause for the return of Hypnotoad!!
Look darling! It’s a story about me inventing the newspaper! How quaint!
Yeah, I’m back. And I know you missed me. Try not to make a big thing out of it.
Tonight on Million Dollar Listing: People try to sell houses. Who will succeed? Who will fail? Who will have a completely ridiculous haircut? Who will be the recipient of my newest reality show star crush? In the end, you’ll end up liking one dude, sort of disliking another, and wanting to slap one dude repeatedly. I’ll hold him down for you. In the end? Image. Is everything.
We’re in L.A. with a lot of guys with their shirts off, and hair that stays in place all day no matter what. How do they do that? I use this Bed Head crap, and by 10am, I look like David Lynch. The alarm goes off at 7:19 and Chad Rogers gets out of bed. He has a busy day – today’s his first day of high school! He has a day chock full of getting wedgies and teased for bringing sushi for lunch, culminating in a triumphant debut as Captain Von Trapp in the Beverly Hills High production of The Sound of Music. Uh, wha? He voice overs that he’s been in real estate for 10 years. Since you were 5, Chad? I think not. Oh. Chad says he’s 30. I say eff you, Chad. I looked like I was 30 when I was 20, and now I look like I’m 45.
This is what I would look like standing next to Chad.
Chad works for Hilton & Highland. His boss is Paris Hilton’s dad, which totally gives him a boner. He says that he’s into his hair, and he has a beautiful girlfriend, because “image is everything.” Chad is seriously wearing make-up, and his hair is plastered to his head. Like a Weeble Wobble. It’s now 8:18. It’s taken Chad an hour to get ready. Okay, I’m gay and all, but it seriously takes me 15 minutes to get ready. And I even use hair product. Wow. I already dislike Chad.
Chad sells homes that cost from $700,000 to $16 million. Real estate is competitive, Chad tells us, so he has to “stay on top of his game.” And by “game,” he means junior varsity track. Oh! I hope he makes the team! It would be really good for his self-esteem – he could really use a boost. Chad totally brings a vacuum cleaner to the houses he sells, strips down to his underwear, and says, “I. Will sell. This house. Today.” And then he goes home to loveless marriage with Kevin Spacey. Yawn. Next.
Chad says, “Perception. Is Everything.” Dude, everything is everything to this guy. Boredom. Is everything. Some dude comes buy with a car that cost $150,000. What the fuck?! I’m 30 and eating 10 packs of El Monterey burritos and hot dogs without buns! Oh, but I’ll have a MFA, Chad. And over $50,000 in debt. Suck on that!
Next we have Madison Hildebrand, 26. There’s no way he can be pretentious with that name! He’s sold $80 million worth of housing or something in the 2.5 years he’s been in real . . . sorry. I drifted off there. Again, with the “L.A. is all about image thing.” Is it? IS IT?! Yes. It is. Madison says his trainer is hot, but that the trainer probably isn’t into guys. Madison says, “I may be open to it, but I don’t think he is.” So, Madison is now single and says that now he’s open to a relationship with a man or a woman. “It is what it is,” he says. Bi-curiousness. Is everything. Madison’s totally ending up with a dude. Or – he will meet a woman and become engaged to her, plan a fabulous wedding, and break it off because he’ll tell her he’s 100% gay. Blah blah blah Madison is motivated blah. Madison said he was into drugs from ages 15-21, partly because he had issues with his sexuality. Okay, so I really want to hate Madison, but I’m just not going to be able to. Mostly because his hair is completely Weeble Wobble free. Madison gets a commission check for HOLY SHIT! $27, 375! You know how much I made last year? $5,000. I shit you not. Maybe I should sell houses for $15 million. Or, I could just move to L.A. and make Madison fall in love with me, convince him to pay off Sallie Mae, get engaged, plan a fabulous wedding, and then break it off because I’ll tell him I’m 100% straight. That actually sounds easier than taking the real estate test. Next.
He has a couple more years of situations like this, tops.
Some dude gets dressed, and puts on a belt with a big “H” on it. I believe the “H” stans for, “How cool am I?!” The belt belongs to Josh Flagg, 21, who is “the top real broker ever under 25. In Los Angeles west side community.” He sells houses in the $5 to $20 million range. Last year he sold $82.5 million . . . worth of houses or something. I’ve never even finished a game of Monopoly. Josh goes to his grandmother’s house. And I can’t make fun of her because she survived the Holocaust. However, Josh lies and says she was “the first person to bring polyester to the United States of America.” Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was the cast of Three’s Company and not your grandma Edith, Josh. She brought it “over from Europe.” So, Edith combined purified terephthalic acid, dimethylterephthalate, mono ethylene glycol, and other polymers to create a synthetic fabric. Yeah, I totally buy that, Josh. Just like I buy the fact that you’re a completely trustworthy individual who would never make stuff up for attention. Shut up, Trust Fund. Trust Fund and Grandma shoot the shit. Grandma says that a friend of Josh’s died. I like Grandma. She doesn’t fuck around, that Edith. And Trust Fund takes the opportunity to call someone about Dead Friend’s house, because it’s now on the market. Trust Fund may be able to sell a house, but he ain’t sellin’ anyone on being a decent human being. Sucking. Is Everything.
Oh yeah my grandma also invented ice cream cones and Care Bears. Bitch is unstoppable.
Madison drives to a house to meet Carol, another broker or something. She calls him Mad. That’s cute. Dorothy Hamill comes to the house! No, sorry, it’s just Chad. Madison glares at him. Yay! Madison hates Chad! Chad says in an interview that he met Madison through family and that Madison knows Chad’s girlfriend. Trust Fund comes in and sucks. He hates Chad. Madison doesn’t see them as competition. Good on ya, Mad! And if you think there is a point to all of them getting together, there is not. I thought this would be some competition, like, “Who has the balls to sell this house?” But it’s not that kind of reality show. I never thought I’d say this, but I really miss America’s Most Smartest Model. Oh, Mandy Lynn! Wherefore art thou!
Thanks for asking, but slinging hot wings isn’t so bad!
Chad drives in his $150,000 car, and hears about some condo that someone wants to sell from his car guy, Louis, on his speakerphone. He meets Louie and Jonathan in an underground garage, like he’s Deep Throat or something. Jonathan looks at Chad like, “What the hell is this 8th grader doing here? Shouldn’t he be at home growing pubes and applying Stridex pads to his face?” Yes, Jonathan. He should. Jonathan asks Chad how long he’s been doing this, and says that Chad looks very young. Chad opens his big fat gob and says he “sold his soul to the devil.” For that hair? Chad, you got a raw deal. He says he “never ages.” Flash-forward 10 years from now: Chad, in an Alf t-shirt, beer belly hanging out, sits on his couch eating cookie dough, his apartment littered with Natural Light cans. Jonathan makes a Dorian Gray allusion, which I hope is a thinly veiled insult. Chad is all, “Who’s Dorian Gray?” Education. Is nothing. To Chad.
They enter the condo, which is typical rich person style. Oh, but it’s a “dicey” part of Hollywood, meaning that the closest Whole Foods is nearly 5 blocks away. Nooooooooo! Chad says, “Location. Is everything.” Why hasn’t anyone said, “I don’t sell houses. I sell dreams.”? That’s what I’d say. Or, “I don’t sell houses. I sell the future. And the future. Is everything.” Okay, so Chad thinks the condo is worth $950,000, but Jonathan says it’s worth more, so Chad says he’ll list it for $1,045,000, which means his commission is around $26,000. I still dislike you, Chad.
After commercials for Mamma Mia (whatever, I still want to see it), and evil gay-hating eHarmony, we’re back. Trust Fund is meeting with Michael, some rich L.A. executor, about maybe doing a little yard-work for extra money. Just kidding! He wants to sell Michael’s house, silly! Fascinating. And yet, not so much. Carole Lombard owned the house, and Clark Gable was there, you know, doing her and stuff. Also? It’s ugly. And in really bad shape. And haunted by the ghost of Carole Lombard, so an exorcism will have to be performed by the weird short lady from Poltergeist. Michael wants to sell the house quickly. It will list at $3,250,000, with a commission of $81,250 for Trust Fund. Like he needs it with all that sweet, sweet polyester money. I hate you, Trust Fund.
Did I tell you about the time I invented bunny rabbits? I thought to myself, that puppy needs some big floppy ears and then BANG I was rich.
Back to the only likeable person, Mad. Carolina, Mad’s nice hottie assistant tells him of a person who’s selling all the Desperate Housewives DVDs for $40! No, not really – she tells him about a guy who wants to sell a house, silly! Excitement ensues in Mad’s office. Furious typing! Intern googling! Printing! Cubicle . . . walking over to. Office work. Is everything. Carolina says that Mad is good because he’s always on the run. She says that she has something really important to tell him, but it’s hard to find the time because he’s just so busy. Oooohhhh, shit. Carolina is totally pregnant with Mad’s baby, from that time after the office holiday party when they both got drunk on peppermint Schnapp’s, and Carolina was all, “Let’s go dancing!” and Mad was all, “Ohmigod yes!” and then after dancing, they took a cab home, and Mad was all, “You can come in if you want,” and Carolina was all, “Oh. Okay,” and after Carolina threw up in the bathroom, she came back and was all, “You’re sexy” and Mad was all, “You’re sexy too,” and they totally had horrible sex and regretted it the next morning and now everything is awkward in the office. Drunk pity sex. Is everything.
Sigh, back to Chad. Victoria is his girlfriend. She’s very pretty and reminds me of Malin Ackerman from The Comeback with Lisa Kudrow. Rent it. It’s awesome. She seems very sweet. Chad, told by the producers to tell Victoria stuff she already knows to give us background info about him, tells her about being 13 and gangly or whatever. Victoria fakes an interest. She says she’s graduating with a fashion degree, but L.A. doesn’t have that many designers. Um, hello – ever hear of someone named Lauren Conrad? Her stuff is buy one get two free! Sweet. Victoria wants to get an internship in Italy, she says Chad pretends to be cool with it, but he wants her to stay. She says she doesn’t know what she would do if she was offered an internship at some great company. She’s torn between an amazing career opportunity and a mediocre boyfriend. Meanwhile, Heidi breaks up with Jordan and Audrina dates a guy named Danny. Oh, wait, that’s season 1 of The Hills. Wow. When a reality show can’t even come up with original plot-points, that’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel. Done caring!
Chad has an open house in Jonathan’s condo, and makes everyone wear “booties,” those disposable scrubs you put over your shoes. Why? We’ll never know. Or care. People are all, “the price is high.” Someone says the location is “dicey.” It’s not fucking East St. Louis! It’s Hollywood! Damn, people. Being pretentious. Is everything. One woman is interested because it’s “unique.”
I can’t see anything.
But we’re hot.
Trust Fund has an open house. He. Will sell. This house. Today. Trust Fund runs into a snag, as the moving truck is there, and boxes are in the driveway. Ugh, that house needs work. Dr. Sam comes in. He is Trust Fund’s prescription drug connection. Dentist! I mean dentist! This is what L.A. dentists look like? Some kind of swanky-ass rich European dude? Yeah, my dentist looks like a chubbier Mr. Belding. Dr. Sam is also Trust Fund’s friend. By which I mean “friend.”
Mad is driving, taking pics in of houses in Malibu. He’s on the PCH, which I know stands for Pacific Coast Highway because of Veronica Mars. Damn PCHers, with their motorcycles and gang violence! Oh, Veronica – struck down before your time. I miss you . . . Anyway, Mad is being followed by the paparazzi. No, not because he’s on some third-rate Bravo reality show, but because they think he’s Britney Spears. No, not because he’s eating Cheetos, drinking Mello Yello, and driving with his baby on his lap, but because he’s in a range rover with tinted windows.
Back to Trust Fund. I think he lives with his Grandma, but I can’t confirm that yet. Kelly, an agent, comes in, and says that the house (listing price $3,250,000) has an offer for $2,850,000. Oh no! He’ll only get a $71,250 commission check! I really feel bad for him, especially since I have $9.61 in my checking account. Especially since unemployment is at it’s highest rate in years and people are struggling to find even menial minimum-wage jobs. Oh, crap, sorry, I seem to have fallen onto a soapbox. Let me just step off that . . . there we go. Okay, so Trust Fund says that he has a responsibility to report all offers to the seller. But what he can do is call Dr. Sam, his “friend” and let him know about the offer, and tell him to step it up. But Trust Fund says that’s “shady.” And probably illegal, I say. Isn’t that just like insider trading? Has Martha Stewart taught us nothing? I know she taught me about decorative gourds. Whatever, like you’re above lying, Polyester Boy. So what does Trust Fund do? He calls Dr. Sam and tells him that the house is now available and that Dr. Sam should make an offer. Trust Fund is the kind of guy who would sell term papers to college students and call them “study guides.” Stupid dramatic music plays as all this goes down.
Oh, just make some pretty cupcakes. Cupcakes make it all ok. And panchos. Make some panchos too.
Victoria and a girlfriend talk about how it’ll be weird being out of school. Tell me about it, Victoria. Flash forward 5 years from now: Victoria sits in a cubicle with a headset, asking callers for their conference codes, saying “You’ll hear music until the conference begins,” all the while thinking, “I have a fucking bachelor’s degree! Why am I here?!” Sorry, sweetie. Welcome to the real world. Victoria’s friend says she’s moving to New York to “find a job.” Oh, the innocence of the early twenties! I long for those days, before cynicism became my air and bitterness my food. Wow, Victoria’s girlfriend Gabby has a really well thought out plan on how to get a job. Her response to Chad when he asks her why she’s moving to New York: “So, my business card, I can actually put, you know, the New York . . . So then if I go over there, you know, it’s cool to have, like, two places.” Love is all around, Gabby, no need to waste it. You can have the town, why don’t you take it? You’re gonna make it after all. Dun-dun-dun-dunnnn-dun!
Victoria wants to go, Chad doesn’t want her to. Chad voice overs that if she left, it would “put a stress on his personal life, which would bleed into his business life.” His hair, however, would remain unscathed. Chad gets an email offer for the condo. The offer is for $950,000, what Chad said it should sell for. He calls Jonathan, the condo seller, who says on speakerphone that “she can dream on.” I think he’s talking to Gabby. Wait, no. He’s talking about the buyer. My bad. There’s a profile shot of Chad on the phone and it just . . . it scares me. I seriously think he’s wearing eyeliner, maybe some lipstick. Also? Dude is pale. Like Tim Burton pale. You live in L.A.! Go out in the sun, Chad!
From the moderately dis-liked to the pretty much hated: Trust Fund goes over to Michael to tell him about the offer on the house. He tells Michael that he should take the offer, but it’s “kind of a gamble.” Um, I’m pretty sure those are the words I don’t want to hear from my real estate agent. Isn’t it your job to make it so it’s NOT a gamble? Trust Fund has watery eyes, like a basset hound. I don’t think he’s as loyal as a basset hound, though. Is he constantly on the verge of tears? So, Michael takes the offer, and Trust Fund is out $10,000 on his commission. Crap. Now he’ll have to go to stupid Ibiza instead of Cannes. Dammit! Life is so hard!
Back to Madison! Yay! Ooh, I totally forgot about Carolina’s love child! Buckle up, people, this is going to be good. I can tell because of the dramatic, echo-y music. Oh. She got another job offer. That’s all. Also, she’s a single parent, working long hours at Madison’s office, and it’s difficult for her to balance everything. Please, Carolina, that’s nothing. Trust Fund can’t afford a new Hummer now because of his lousy commission. Those are the real problems! Mad’s disappointed and let down.
Listen here. Get rid of the baby, take a week to cry, and call me. Freakin’ women and their ovens.
Back to Trust Fund. Dr. Sam comes over for a drink. Okay, am I the only one who thinks it’s kind of weird to booze it up with your dentist? Is this how it goes down in L.A.? Why not do coke off a toilet seat with your proctologist? Dr. Sam asks about the house, Trust Fund says it’s pretty much gone because the other buyer’s now in escrow. Trust Fund says you can’t wait on good deals in Beverly Hills. But in every other part of the country, it’s perfectly fine. Shut up, Trust Fund. He says that he can put in an offer in case the buyer doesn’t come through. Trust Fund’s friends arrive. They look exactly like you’d expect them to – white, skinny, sexually ambiguous males who have probably never worked a day in their lives. Trust Fund says he got his jeans on sale for, like, $600. Fucking dumbass. Some chubby dude enters. Now, because I am a TMZ ho, I know this is the infamous Gummi Bear. Why is he famous? I don’t know. Probably because his family has shit-tons of money. Why does TMZ insist on taking pictures and video of him to further his famous-ness? Because TMZ is effing idiotic. And kind of awesome.
I’ve had a long day of drawing cocks on Paris Hilton’s face. Let’s drink!
Anyway, Gummi Bear comes in, looking like complete crap. Ugh, it’s like a douchebag conference. DoucheFest ’08. Trust Fund says that Dr. Sam is his dentist. Gummi Bear asks if Dr. Sam has nitrous, and Trust Fund says, “He has everything. He’s great.” I knew it! Dr. Sam voiceovers that Josh (Trust Fund) is “a genius when it comes to real estate,” but it’s when “he’s with his friends that you realize he’s only 21.” Trust Fund comes up with the great idea to pretend that he died. Why just pretend, Trust Fund? So, he’s going to have a funeral with – swear to god – “horses, and fireworks, and everything you can imagine!” And puppies and funnel cakes and a carousel and ponies and a magician and a bounce room and pizza and chocolate cake and ice cream! Everything but dignity, apparently. And maturity. “And then we’ll see who our real friends are.” Hating Trust Fund. Is everything.
Chad talks to Jonathan about his condo, telling him to counter the offer. Jonathan won’t do it. He says that he’ll wait for another offer or take it off the market. He’s being a bit stubborn. Come on, it’s in a dicey neighborhood! The Ivy is like 2 miles away! Shudder.
Back to Madison, who is sleeping in bed, shirtless. Yummy. Oh. He has a big dog. Deal breaker! Maybe I can learn to love your dog, Madison. Madison gets dressed, zips up his pants (oh my). And . . . that’s it. What the eff? What was the point of that? All we did was see Madison taking a shower and . . . why the hell am I complaining?
I’ll take it!
Back to Chad, voice-overing about real estate crap and “finding the right buyer.” And . . . that’s it. Maybe Dr. Sam can prescribe some Ritalin for the editor.
Back to Trust Fund, who says that there’s some delay in the selling of the Carole Lombard Crap Factory, and that he’ll go to Dr. Sam for another offer. He goes to Dr. Sam, for a legitimate tooth cleaning. They talk about the house while Trust Fund is being worked on. Trust Fund later tells Dr. Sam that he needs a personal check for $300,000 to seal the deal. Trust Fund avoids eye contact with Dr. Sam while telling him about percents and crap. Man. I hate that shady bastard. Dr. Sam writes a check for $300.000. I’m sure that everything will work out and Dr. Sam will never regret doing business with Trust Fund, nor writing that check. Nope, I think it’s all gonna work out just fine!
Chad is telling us that he attends “red carpet events regularly.” As a real estate agent? I’m thinking his carpets are cerise at best. Ugh, hair! Chad voiceovers that he asked Jonathan what he wanted to do with his unit. Hee! They’re at some hotel for some benefit, and Jonathan tells Chad that he’s going to take his unit off the market. That sucks for Chad. Chad is photographed by about 5 low-end paparazzi. I’d like to add that the carpet isn’t even red in the slightest. It appears to be of a grey and beige checkered sort of pattern, with peach colored diamond-shaped accents. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s the Best Western Sunset Plaza Hotel. Victoria says these events can be kind of boring. I’m assuming that by “events,” she means this show. Chad lost $26,125, although to be fair, he didn’t really lose it since he never had it. I feel sorry for Chad. But only because of his hair.
I’m sure if the camera stays in this position long enough, we’ll see Dina Lohan. Fingers crossed!
Back to Mad, touring a lovely 5-bedroom home with 9 flat-screen TVs (that’s not excessive. Not excessive at all.), Jacuzzi bathroom, a huge walk-in closet, climate controlled wine cellar, and everything else you can’t afford. Seller says that Mad is younger than the seller thought, and lectures him on being aggressive or some crap like that. The seller is a complete ass, the kind of guy who orders for his wife in a restaurant, all, “She’ll have a salad with low-fat ranch,” while he eats three steaks and a lobster and crÃ¨me brulee for dessert. Jerk. He asks Mad why he should hire him instead of other people who have sold houses that are, you know, as expensive as his. Mad tries to sell himself, but poor guy, it doesn’t come across as a great pitch. Yeah, so the seller, named Camillo (yeah, I know) tells Mad that he believes in up-and-comers, and he’s giving Madison a shot. Of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that this is being filmed and that Camillo has a chance to be on TV. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Listing price? $4,895,000. Ew, Camillo is skeezy. Evidence? His words: “If you believe in it, it’s going to happen, Madison. Do you know what I mean? The day you don’t, you won’t have this listing anymore. Okay?” What a cocky bastard. Wow, this show really makes me want to never, ever live in southern California. Potential commission? $146,850, or more than I’ll probably make in my entire lifetime. My best bet is to move to California and make Madison fall in love with me. He can give Sallie Mae a check and say, “Suck on that, bitches!” And then buy me a 10 pack of El Monterey burritos.
“This is the part of my job that sucks.” No, that’s not me talking, that’s Trust Fund. He says that Dr. Sam didn’t get the house, so he invites him over to tell him. Trust Fund tells Dr. Sam, who is all, “You’re joking.” But Trust Fund is not. Oh, sweet – Dr. Sam is all, this shouldn’t have happened, you’re the broker, I trusted you to make this happen, “you gave me the indication that it was mine.” But Trust Fund just sits there with his watery eyes with a rich-kid smirk on his face. What the fuck does he care? He’s got $600 jeans, bitch! He voiceovers that “Sam didn’t make an offer fast enough,” so he couldn’t help him. Which is complete bullshit. Dr. Sam says he’s leaving, and gives the stink-eye at Trust Fund. Awesome. Again, Trust Fund lies about how Dr. Sam “didn’t listen” to him, and that’s why he didn’t get the house. Yeah, I’m pretty sure Dr. Sam didn’t get the house because Trust Fund is a shitty, shady real estate agent. I hope Dr. Sam got every single last cent of his $300,000 back. It’s night, and Trust Fund goes to what I think is the same club they always go to on The Hills. Les Deux? Worst club name ever. And I’ve been to a club called Tremors (Lawrence, KS represent!). And like a couple of people on The Hills, Trust Fund is a money-hungry fame whore who really has a talent for nothing but spending money and being an idiot. It’s a hard job, but somebody’s gotta do it. Being a douchebag. Is everything.
And now for the fist in the mouth trick.
Aw, that’s it? Stay tuned next week for more exciting . . . house selling. Wheeeee. Will Madison sell Oily Camillo’s house? Probably. Will Chad cut his hair? Doubtful. Will Trust Fund be a complete and total immature shit-head? Bet on it. Will my next recap be better than this one? Let’s hope so. Later!