Thought the holidays were over, did you? Wrong! You’ve obviously overlooked a festering little turd left in your stocking. It’s Celebrity Apprentice!
I know, we all thought this tired show was done after the disaster that was last season, but it looks like Trump and the gang have been revived and stuffed back into suits to yet again yell corporate clichÃ©s at hapless losers for countless hours on end. And this time, we’re joined by a gaggle of what’s-her-names, when-did-he-get-out-of-prisons, and I-thought-she-was-deads. Join us, won’t you? Apparently over the break Trump has procured a voiceover peon, whom I like to think spends his off time in Trump’s attic and is fed a bucket of fish heads every week. The peon introduces us to the celebrities in a rollicking montage wherein Gene Simmons explains to us the definition of show business: “the business of show”. Ah. Why thank you, Gene. Watch out, Merriam and/or Webster!
Unsurprisingly, none of the celebrities are especially notable. (Television executive Nely Galan?! Fire up the DVR!!) Oh, and as the peon snarls: “Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the boardroom…Omarosa!!” I guess Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth-Foppington-Hassenffefer-Humperdink the Fourth, Esquire got to be too cumbersome. We are promised much drama throughout the season, including drinks being spilled over people’s heads, large conference room tables being destroyed, and Stephen Baldwin talking down Vincent Pastore from a capicola-induced rage.
So many questions here. Why is Baldwin standing on a table? Why is Lennox Lewis wearing his boxing gear? How will the producers convince me to care?
A less-than-satisfying opening credit sequence commences, featuring the words What if you…could make a difference? Because nothing says cutthroat business tactics like taglines from the Hallmark Movie of the Week. It does make sense, given that they’re all playing for charity (which even I have to admit is a lovely thing for them to do), but that doesn’t make up for the fact that they’re depriving of me of The Donald shouting “You’re fired!” amidst the rockin’ jams of the irrepressible O’Jays.
Trump meets the gang at the New York Mercantile Exchange. I expect half a dozen hands to go shooting up, asking “What’s a money?” but instead they all just stand there, utterly lost. He explains that they’re all commodities, and that’s why he chose them for the show. Um, thanks? He goes on to say that they’re going to be split up into two teams, lords and ladies, and that they’ll each choose a project manager. Omarosa, wasting no time in reminding America that she is to be hated, immediately speaks up and volunteers to be the first project manager.
“First one to wrestle the pink tie off my cold dead neck wins.”
Up in Trump Towers, Nely the tv exec pulls out a handful of novelty hats to be used as props throughout the competition. Omarosa quickly dismisses them, insisting that this is The Apprentice! This is not a joke to be laughed at by the entire country! Get serious, NELY! Anyway, it’s time for my favorite part of the season: the choosing of the ludicrous team names. This season’s installment does not disappoint. Carol Alt, ancient supermodel, offers her best ideas: “How about Mega? Or…Explosion!” Thanks, Carol. Way to bust that stupid model stereotype wide open. They eventually come up with Empresario, which Cap’n Nely says means mogul in Spanish. You really think Trump is going to be able to pronounce that? Trust me, you’re going to become Team Espresso before you know it.
“Yarrr, I be a business lady!”
Over in the guys’ genius headquarters, Vinny Pastore suggests the Bada Bing Boys. Ugh, are we really going to have to put up with this guy all season? I get heartburn just looking at him. Gene Simmons creepily suggests Hydra, which he believes to be the three-headed dog that guards hell. Wrong, Gene. That would be Cerberus, or, if you’re thinking Harry Potter, Fluffy. After a little internet research, they learn that the Hydra is in fact a multi-headed monster, and they all like the idea of being a beast that can’t be killed. In that case, why not just name your team Rosie O’Donnell? Hey-o!
In the boardroom, Trump introduces the teams to Ivanka and DonJr, who appears to have lost a significant amount of weight and now just looks creepily undersized. The Donald acknowledges that Omarosa and Baldwin are the project managers, then informs the teams that their challenge is to sell the most hot dogs on the streets of New York. Hydra’s immediate plan: keep Vinny Pastore away from the inventory.
Omarosa defers to Carol for the location, since she’s the sole New Yorker on the team. Carol suggests a corner near Penn Station, capturing that ever-sought-after Post Office demographic. The celebrities then suggest that they come up with a plan to use whatever celebrity they have to sell celebrity hot dogs on this, Celebrity Apprentice. Omarosa immediately shoots them down, insisting that they use solid sales skills. For hot dogs. Thanks for playing, ladies.
The men, meanwhile, choose a much better location (Rockefeller Center) and start banging out their own plan. There is some disagreement over the best course of action. As the boys bicker, Gene Simmons quietly takes out his phone and calmly asks his contact to buy a $5,000 hot dog for charity. The other guys look on in confusion. Gene makes the sale, and out pop the address books.
The next day, the kids set up shop. The girls are wearing red hats with their names on them (thanks Cap’n Nely!), white shirts, and blue jeans. “Red, white and blue,” says Omarosa. “All-American girls selling the all-American food.” Hey Omarosa, watch out for my all-American barf. They start out selling for five dollars, but quickly start price-gouging. And screaming. Oh, the screaming. You’d think these people were buying Porsches.
Cue the Important Music! It’s Lord Trump, along with Mayor Bloomberg, who declares himself to be the number one “frankophile” in the city. Bloomberg loves the French! Beat him with baguettes! After several more gag-inducing hot dog puns (“let’s see if you can cut the mustard”), Bloomberg says that while he can’t judge whether their hot dogs are better, he can at least continue the long-standing Apprentice tradition of insisting that no matter how the girls do business-wise, they still look FANTASTIC! Shake it, ladies!
Meanwhile, over at Mythological Creatures, Incorporated, Piers Morgan is refusing money from hungry customers. Was he unclear on the goal of this challenge? Is he planning on establishing a mint to produce the necessary money? Piers might be just the visionary this show needs. His British fussbudgetry knows no bounds!
But the commercial break, as always, solves everything. When we return, the guys’ hot dogs are selling like hot..cakes! See what I did there? Eh? EH? The dogs finally start selling for upwards of $100, since the lucky buyers also receive a picture with their celebrity of choice. And it is at this point that it becomes increasingly clear that the men have a huge advantage over the girls in terms of the fame factor. Lennox Lewis, ever the keen observer, points out that their group is a real melting pot and is attracting all sorts of people, whether they be fans of boxing, Ultimate Fighting, country music, Kiss, snooty British folk, or whatever it is Stephan Baldwin is famous for. Whereas the girls are pretty much dead in the water. You don’t see anyone screeching across Rockefeller Center to nab a picture with Marilu Henner. Or former model / cryptkeeper Carol Alt. No one’s crying “It’s television executive and Latina mogul Nely Galan! GET THE CAMERA, HAROLD!”
Trump and Bloomberg arrive to scope out Hydra. (Anyone else think that sounds a little dirty?) Bloomberg takes a bite and tells them it’s very good, while Trump interrupts to blare that he bets he’ll never tell which team’s food is better. Oh, who are we kidding. It’s all just a setup for the mayor to make more lame hot dog jokes. Perhaps these guys should just take their act straight to Broadway.
Trump, Bloomberg, and Baldwin in Doggone It! Who Let The Dogs Out? The Musical
Over at the ladies’ stand, Tiffany lamely says to each passerby, “Hot dogs. Chips. Water. Drinks.” Omarosa disapproves.
Yeah. You’re a regular Ignatius Reilly.
Marilu Henner finally wises up and calls one of her billionaire contacts. He stops by and offers her a stack of cash totaling $5000. It would have been more effective had he pulled it out of a sack with a giant dollar sign on it, but I guess it’ll have to do.
Tito Ortiz’s girlfriend, Jenna Jameson, shows up to Hydra’s stand and shakes her ass to sell more hot dogs. But this isn’t nearly as exciting as Gene’s exceedingly wealthy contact, who turns out to be, inexplicably, a thirteen-year-old boy in a suit. He graciously offers $10,000 for another ridiculously expensive tube of unidentifiable meat, and everyone goes apeshit. Wtf is going on here? Who is this kid? Does his dad know he stole his suit and a blank check and is consorting with the likes of Gene Simmons? I feel like the backstory behind this could be its own reality show.
Save some for your Big Wheels fund, Richie Rich.
Jennie Finch, who of course we ALL know as America’s favorite Olympic softball player, calls up her pal David Wright, who shows up to buy out the cart and offer free hot dogs to anyone passing by. And by the way, is anyone else STARVING by now? I’d give my right arm for a hot dog at this point, no matter how many lame puns Bloomberg is barking over my shoulder.
Boardroom time! Trump jumps right into the head-smackingly terrible antics by quoting Gold Digger and asking Tito if he will be demanding a prenup from Jenna Jameson. Oh, The Donald. Did your best friend Snoop Dogg teach you that? You’re quite the pair. Anyway, time for the results. Empresario made roughly $17,000, whereas Hydra made a whopping $52,000.
Team Botox suffers a crushing defeat.
The Donald, for some reason, asks Piers who the weakest person on the other team is, as if he is in any way qualified to answer this question. When he says Ahhhmarosa, she immediately corrects his pronunciation. The best part of this exchange is that he asks for the correct way to say it, then immediately reverts back to the wrong way. Haha, Piers, you dick. I’m going to like you. They then bicker over who is more famous. I’m guessing there will be a lot of this this season, and I’m also guessing that the only winners of these arguments will be us, the audience.
DonJr then derides Omarosa for not selling all of the obvious gremlin sexuality that her team simply exudes. She points out that in the first season of The Apprentice, the women’s team was chastised for relying too heavily on their sexuality. And for once I have to agree with her. They totally did say that back in the day, back when Donald and the gang were deluding themselves into thinking that this was a legitimate job interview. Oh, but that’s all rubbish now. Take your clothes off! Flash your vag for hot dogs! Come on, all the cool kids are doing it!
The Donald congratulates the men and brings us up to our first snark-free moment: All of the money raised goes to Stephan Baldwin’s charity, the Carol M. Baldwin Breast Cancer Research Fund. So that’s nice.
A couple of interesting changes this season. Instead of a reward (other than the money for charity), the winning team gets to watch the boardroom session on TV in the loft. Also, the boardroom takes place immediately following the announcement of the results, thereby eliminating the pandering and begging that usually fills the loft in between the sessions.
Omarosa sings the praises of Marilu, who brought in most of the money, and Nely, for keeping them all on task. She then blasts Tiffany for not stripping down to her skivvies and pole dancing on a street lamp. DonJr points out that the discrepancy inherent in this statement, but Omarosa deftly dances around her points while the men watch and comment from the loft. “Omarosa is a cock-a-roach,” Gene wisely decrees. That may be, but it certainly doesn’t explain why she stole her outfit from an oversized homosexual clown.
Cirque du Soleil called, and boy are they PISSED.
Tiffany defends herself by saying that she did make some big sales, and that not everyone’s contacts are as rich as your average thirteen-year-old. The Donald is quick to point out that Hugh Hefner is. Tiffany then goes on to effectively destroy her case by saying that she was going to save Hugh for a later task. “But at the same token,” she says, carrying on the proud Apprentice tradition of mixed metaphors, Omarosa forbade all of them from using their contacts in the first place.
Omarosa chooses Tiffany and Carol (because she chose a terrible location) to come back into the boardroom with her. It should be noted that Omarosa’s name is still being mispronounced, even by The Donald. At this point it must be intentional. I approve, and will gladly participate. Carol and Ahmarosa bicker for a while about nothing in particular, while Tiffany smiles cutely. When Trump finally goes after her, she completely fails at defending herself, barely even bringing up the fact that Ahmarosa refused to let celebrity have anything to do with this task. Tiffany, you’re stupid. You deserve to get fired.
And she does. For not calling Hugh Hefner, and for not flashing her funbags to hawk a hot dog. Somewhere, a distant golf course perhaps, the ghost of Carolyn is screeching in horror and disgust.
Sorry, disabled veterans! No prosthetics for you because Skanky McSlutbag wouldn’t flash the rock hard party pumpkins!
So! What do we think? It’s terrible, obviously. I mean, Celebrity Apprentice? Really? But I must admit, it is fun to watch, in that it is always fun to watch the Titanic sink. Remember that guy who jumped off the deck and crashed into the propeller? He was awesome!