For Jeff, this is like being diagnosed with financial cancer. Jeff claims it's reverse fraud on the hands of those sneaky lender assholes, and he's going to have to budge in selling one of his projects at an appraisal he calls "insulting."
This is seriously turning into an interpreted biography of Howard Hughes. But a much, much funnier one.
At a project called Ben Lomond, Jeff turned a backyard that was completely occupied by a big fat fucking pool (seriously, who's the moron that designed this complete BLOCKAGE of space?) --
A lawsuit waiting to happen.
...to an ACTUAL backyard. You know, one you can actually WALK on.
The magic of Jeff Lewis
For last minute preparations before an appointment with an inspector, Jeff hires a handyman to take care of touch-ups that were forgotten about during the remodeling process.
"Okay, see that rust? I want to see my face on that rust when I come back. Got that? That's right, my whole fucking mug, on that aged waste of space you call a 'plumbing pipe.' And, while you're at it, I want you to take off those hash marks I penned with a Sharpie last week. And that tile is 2mm off. The preceding tile is 3mm off. You're writing this down, right, Chachi?"
At the Valley Oak project, Ryan is rushing for the completion of the project because, and allow me to be frank, THESE HOUSES NEED TO BE SOLD IN THE HOLOCAUST THAT IS THIS RECESSION.
And while Ryan is all gung-ho on wrapping the house with a bow, he finds himself in Jeff's shoes, sized Anal-retentive, when taking a stroll around all the mistakes that haven't been taken care of.
"Jeff, is it just me, or is that tile 2mm off?"
The house needs to be completed ASAP, and Jeff sees that this isn't just about ego -- this is about having some money at the bank.
Jeff calls it "sink or swim time." He's annoyed at the progress, or lack thereof, at this project. Anymore time spent at this house, and it might worth just as much as Corey Feldman's career.
Back at the Commonwealth house, Jeff invites Samantha -- a "local artist" (euphemism for "UNEMPLOYED") -- to bring a piece in.
In fact, it's housekeeper Zoila's birthday, and on her day off, Jeff had commissioned a portrait of his beloved housekeeper to be immortalized in oil-on-canvas form. Nothing says "testament" like a Guggenheim reject painting a fairly ugly rendition of your maid.
Zoila the Broila'
After the great reveal, Zoila's, like, "OHHH MAHHH GAHHH I LOOK SOOOO UGLLYY!!!" ...RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE ARTIST WHO PAINTED IT!!!
APPRECIATIVE!!!HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ZOILA!!!
Jeff called it "EDGY" and "CONTEMPORARY"!!!
...Whereas Ryan called it "...one of the most awkward things I've ever seen him do."
Diff'rent Strokes TO THE WOOORRRRLLLLDDD!!!
But poor Jeff -- just when he's trying to rebuild his reputation and establish a new sense of selflessness, it backfires on him when EVERYONE in the house just COWERS at the painting. He wallows in guilt, and feels awful, and, gawsh darnit, you feel bad for the guy. A for effort, Jeff -- you're a good boss.
Sometimes.
Later that day, Jeff's trophy interior designer drops by to install some drapes, and his OCD really shines when his anxiety reaches galactic levels over drape colors -- his condition doesn't allow him to settle on "off white" when he requested "beige." As comical as this can be, it's just tormenting to watch only because you know this guy ain't fucking around.
"No, seriously, you have to check out this Jeff Lewis guy. He's crazy!"
T. Vo would definitely call this "Drapegate." Check out her Celebrity Circus recaps if you haven't already. It's like a dessert of lolz all around. Shoutout!
Back at Valley Oak, everyone's late and the countdown is nearing its end for the time of inspection.
Then the saging begins.
Yes. I said saging.
Sagin' for a bruisin'
Ryan, out of fear and superstition, sages the entire house for good luck. Jeff, on the other hand, will rest on his record and laurels, and remains confident that, even though the house isn't up to Jeff's standards, will sell like hot shit. In a good way.
Back at Commonwealth, Jeff actually had the painting returned and touched up to remove double-chins and Botox zones. And Zoila Painting 2.0 was...
...just like the first one.
Jeff is convinced it's good, because he likes being oblivious. Zoila doesn't. In fact, she doesn't even comment on it. You know, like when you have a bump under your skin, and you're, like, "nah, it's nothing." It was just. Like. That.
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