Bienvenidos back to Puerto Vallarta. We open at night time. The day has probably been full of romance, laughter and alcohol induced drama that we’d all love to have seen, but MTV would like to start us off with a T-Mobile Sidekick clue instead. That’s cool MTV. Save all the good stuff for the Shit They Should Have Shown episode. We don’t mind. I’m sure there’s plenty of valuable comedic material for me to write about amidst the upcoming footage of people pushing cars through sand. I’ll just work with that.
Before we get to the challenge, Tori, Janelle, and Johanna are sitting around having a sweaty little chit chat about who they’d want to face in the gauntlet. I have to say, Johanna and Tori are pretty girls. Even with ponytails, sneakers and shorts pulled all the way up to their boobies they manage to come across as naturally pretty. None of that trashy, overly made-up, “I only look good from far away, but look how well my bright pink lipstick matches my bright pink top,” kind of way.
No offense Janelle.
When the teams arrive for the first challenge, TJ reveals that the rookies will get a replacement player. Moments later MJ from Philadelphia makes his grand entrance. He’s also carrying a water bottle, just in case he gets winded or comes across a wilting plant on his jog in. Turns out MJ has a “five and a half month year old baby at home.” Month years huh? I guess somebody didn’t read the How to Properly Describe Your Child’s Age book. Or the instructions on the back of the Trojan box, for that matter.
This addition of MJ to the team really boosts the rookies’ confidence. Nehemiah tells us it’s great to have MJ, because MJ is 6’6″ and 240 pounds. I’m starting to think that Nehemiah routinely exaggerates sizes. Last time he said Brooke has 70 pounds on Jill. Now MJ is 6’6″, 240. Erroneous! Erroneous on both counts! Nehemiah honey, you got MJ. Not a Philadelphia Eagle. Although, at this point you could use one.
Ten inches you say?… Riiiight.
The rookies really need to win today’s challenge, because they’re getting their asses handed to them so far. “It’s been demoralizing,” Derek tells us. “Not just demoralizing to us personally, but also to our morale.” Demoralization damaging morale, you say? How very unheard of. We must put a stop to this before decapitation starts cutting people’s heads off.
Melinda suggests that if the rookies really want to win this week they have to go, “All balls out. All balls to the wall.” Now I’m not up to date on my West Coast slang, but I’ve never heard this phrase before. Maybe I’m wrong, and one of you West Coasters can learn me, but something tells me that whatever expression she was searching for, she didn’t find it.
On to the challenge. Today’s challenge requires the teams to push cars to a finish line. There are more details, of course, but I’m so over typing out all the details of these challenges and their associated rules. It’s not like you need me them re-explain it to you. Your TV was on, you saw them.
The vets win the first challenge, but not before Melinda gets hit in the head with a board. Cue the medical attention and Danny finally puts down his new Myview Personal Mini-Viewer, and comes over to find out what’s going on. He must really be strong, because he picks her up and seems to carry her pretty easily. Aw, isn’t it’s no nice when illegal performance enhancing drugs finally give back? Then he rushes her into the hospital like she’s about to get a boob job.
Ok Melinda, tell me what you don’t like about yourself.
At the hospital, we come to learn that Melinda has suffered a concussion and a very serious condition called dehydration. Actually no real doctor ever confirms these conditions, the only person we saw give that diagnosis was Dr. HGH. I call shenanigans. Even if they are really her ailments, I’ll give her the concussion thing, but dehydration? Come on. Dehydration is not that big a deal. Give the girl a Vitamin Water and call it a day. In the meantime, suck it up Miss Priss. All balls to the wall.
Back at the resort, the vets are congregating in their hut and deciding which female to throw into the gauntlet. They decide on Janelle, who then opts to go against Jillian. Frank throws a shit fit and says it’s not happening, as if he has the final word on it all. After MJ gives some outsider perspective and Tori promptly tells him it’s too dang bad what he thinks, Frank accepts the fact that despite what he might be used to elsewhere, he doesn’t make the rules around here.
I get the feeling we’re not in chess club any more, Toto.
Jillian unexpectedly gives Janelle a run for her money and wins. Meanwhile, I think Frank might have just put on the most embarrassing display of rooting I have ever witnessed. And I’ve been to Fenway. He actually yelled out awkward things like “yeah, you deserved that ball!” Oy. Frank, sweetie, I appreciate your loyalty and all, but stick to taking your shirt off and clapping. Trash talking’s not your bag, baby. Now, let’s get back to the resort before every football stadium in California bans you from entering.
This would have been the perfect time for some classic Challenge drama. Instead we get another clue about tomorrow’s challenge. Yawn. I love the fact that this show is an hour long, but hate the fact that there are two challenges and two gauntlets. Where is the drama and the fun plotlines? Katie, Beth and Coral are sharing a room for Christ’s sake. The three of them in one room and no drama? That’s like putting Aubrey in the same house as the guys from The Band and no one walking out of there with a blow job. And herpes.
As long as I’m complaining, I have to give you a side note about this guy sitting next to me in Starbucks, who is on the phone talking to someone about how fantastic his children are. Why do parents insist on pretending their kids are better than they are? In this particular case, Emma is 2 but is a child prodigy who is speaking at a 5 year old level. (That’s 70 month years to you, MJ). And Billy is 7 and apparently the best looking 7 year old in America. All the girls are after him. Last time I checked, 7 year old girls still believed in the cootie philosophy, Sir. Oh, and two year olds don’t speak, they babble. Just once I’d love to hear a parent suck it up and speak the truth: “Yeah, Susie’s a sweet girl, but that schnoz is gonna cost me a fortune in plastic surgery costs down the line. And Little Timmy’s not much better. He sucks at t-ball, and splits his time between nose picking and whining like a little bitch. The wife wants another one, but I’m scared it can only get worse.”
Anyway, the next challenge requires the teams to shimmy across mid-air. We get reminded by a Fresh Meat clip that Casey doesn’t take too well to heights. Speaking of Casey, why does she make such extreme facial expressions when she talks? All of the eye rolling and face straining makes MY face hurt. The overacting is unbearable. It’s like Cameron Diaz movie gone terribly wrong.
I could be Jell-O…
Instead of bailing out of the challenge this time, Casey resorts to sitting on the concrete uselessly holding on for dear life. She says she pisses her pants, and I really want to know if she means that literally. That’s when Evan gives the quote of the week for me when he says “Girls, you’re afraid of heights, you’re dyslexic, you can’t color inside the lines…we get it. You suck.” Good one, Fivehead. Now go help Coral try to squeeze Eric into that life vest.
When the veterans win, they send in Frank, and I’m momentarily confused. Frank told me in my interview with him that he and Adam are best friends. Frank and Adam spent time earlier talking about how to save Jillian from the gauntlet. And now Adam is leading the charge on sending Frank in? What gives, Ad? And why didn’t Frank get pissed and start shouting nerdily after the announcement? That’s when it hit me: Adam did it on purpose, to help Frank. Adam knew the vets were looking to throw in one of the rookie’s bigger guys, so he made sure they picked Frank so that Frank could choose to go against one of the smaller guys, rather than risk having Frank be pulled in to the gauntlet by Derek or MJ. Actually a really smart move.
By the way, how many times are we going to hear the phrases “top dog” and “trim the fat”? Seriously, enough already. Frank picks Zach, puts on his glasses, and then promptly beats Zach at the puzzle game. Thanks for playing Zachy. Hope the head shave was worth it. Bad news is that Zach has to go home, but the good news is that there’s a good chance he can go home with his new hair and try to pass himself off as Chris Richardson. So there’s that.
We close with Evan and Kenny plotting to throw the next mission, which hopefully will bring the drama we’ve all been waiting for. As they discuss their plans, Evan’s wearing one of those cute grandpa hats and Kenny’s wearing a visor he stole from one of the Gotti boys. Kenny aside, I hate guys who wear crooked visors. Them, and the guys who wear aviator sunglasses inside of bars shouldn’t be allowed to participate in anything besides a nice game of Russian Roulette.
Speaking of headwear, there’s one other thing I’d like to discuss before I go. I think all of the guys might secretly be in a Worst Display of Headwear competition. Between the bandanas and the visors and the sweatbands and the Mexican straw hats, it’s that, or some odd bet about who can look the most ridiculous. In which case, I believe we have a winner:
Heroes in a half shell, indeed.
And that’s all she wrote Gasmii.