In all fairness, we did get a minor preamble about how Robin's in love with her Marine boy Mike, and Randy's in love with his foxy Boston friend from home. She will go nameless because I forgot her name and am too lazy to check it on Tivo. Anyway, the Boston gal arrived with two other Massholes who soon met the aforementioned Mike - apparently also from the greater Boston metropolitan area. Daps were given all around as everyone talked about how everyone thought everyone was awesome. Robin especially noted how psyched she was to have a serious boyfriend. She also alerted us that they have not had sex yet because she wants to take it slow - a tactic Big Randy advised against, until he got distracted by a dandelion seed in the air and went off to follow it. Actually, I'm surprised that Jacquese didn't request a date of consumation so that he can schedule a spying gigglefest from the doorway.

Now, most Bunim-Murray Productions veterans know that all this Robin chatter is usually the big setup to a night of infra-red sex. How wrong we were. Back to all the Bostonians meeting and drinking. Everyone was having a great time with shots of whiskey being dutifully doled out. Fast forward to the club and a few generic images of dancing and drinking. Robin and Mike made themselves cozy in a booth and cooed each other with talk of love. Later, Robin gushed that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Mike, and Mike responded that he wanted to marry her. But before that wedding, Robin just needed to do a few more shots.

You see, Robin used to be a bartender at Coyote Ugly, she explained to us. That meant that she had to do shots all night long behind the bar. Hence, when she goes out drinking now, she always wants to do shots and can't stop. Oh, and she's an alcoholic. Truth is that it wouldn't be so bad if she didn't become totally belligerent. That wouldn't be fun TV though. True to form, Robin threw a bone to her fans and trolled the streets of San Diego, yelling at random people with red hair and flicking her finger at everyone else. Understandably, Mike grew frustrated at his gal, and became less an officer and a gentleman, and more an officer and a drill sergeant as he yelled at Robin and shook off her touchy hands.

The other Bostonians realized that there was nothing left to do in the situation but to hop in a cab and jet back to the hot tub at the Real World Mansion. Meanwhile, Robin began the pathetic puppy dog act of running up to Mike - bootay in full pendulum motion - and trying to talk to him. He kept shaking her off though, causing her to stop, process, and then try again. After a dozen attempts to corale her boyfriend, Robin broke down into her patented guttural man-crying (my friend Leah pointed that attribute out), and collapsed into a heap on the sidewalk with her head in her hands.