After last week's extravaganza of ridiculousness, this episode is pretty tame. It's the traditional "out of town" episode, where the final four are split up into pairs, each of which accompanies New York on a "travel" date. (Assuming a 110-mile road trip counts as travel.) The only notable development is that just about everyone except Whiteboy acts the drunken fool on this episode.
Everybody.
The episode begins with the four remaining dudes performing their morning toilette, as Whiteboy apparently wears tights.
Don't go all Ren Faire on me, Whiteboy. There's only so much ridiculous I can handle at one time.
The dudes go downstairs, where Chamo delivers the day's instructions.
This week's Chamo story involves his daily visits to his sainted mother ("Mamo"), who's confined to an iron lung. Most nights, Chamo changes his clothes at the mansion, lest Mamo inhale too much secondhand Newport smoke. But one night, after a squabble at elimination caused an overrun of several hours, he simply drove to Mamo's house in his outfit. Mamo was awakened from a deep, oxygenated sleep by the sight of what she believed to be a lawn ornament come to life. The shock damn near killed her.
The golf clothes indicate that Tango and Real will accompany New York to Palm Springs for some putting on the green. (Whiteboy and Chance will rendezvous with her the next day.)
No, Real isn't about to control the weather or paint the future. He's merely expressing his frustration that his date with New York will include Tango, whom he has dubbed Donatello. Yes, like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
Oh, damn. You know the best part? The cartoon sling.
In the limo, Real starts waxing assholic about how hot New York is sure to look. I'm not positive, but I think some mention is made of "skeeting all over [him]self," [gaaaah!] and Real makes a point of telling Tango and the rest of us that he "walk[s] around stiff." I begin to loosen my "Free Real!" armband.
They arrive at the golf course and New York greets them in an outfit that she describes thusly: "My boobs are peeking out the top; my ass is peeking out the back. I look good!" I honestly believe that she'd show up naked semi-regularly if this show were on HBO.
Real tells the camera that he's been in the background too long and that it's time for him to step it up. So he goes in for the hug immediately.
I find this hilarious, as I've noticed Tango hugging New York every chance he got since the show began (and touching other dudes in assorted states of distress to get in the camera frame). Snaked!
The three of them pile into a golf cart, with New York at the wheel. Liability ensues.
Here's the aftermath of that crunch at the end:
They hit the green for some practice swings. New York, as expected, is terrible at golf. Frankly, though, Tango and Real aren't gonna win any PGA tournaments anytime soon either. They both chip the hell out of the green with their drivers. Perhaps realizing that a genuine game of golf is out of the question for this group, the golf pro has them focus on putting. Real suggests a challenge: the dude who sinks a putt from what looks to be 10 feet away gets a kiss from New York. Real lands it; Tango goes wide [insert your own joke here].
The dickweediness that Real began to show in the limo starts creeping out again. Tango goes to shake Real's hand and...
Ooh. Burn.
Ew. Blister.
This is such a great tableau. I almost want to put it on a jigsaw puzzle.
After the golf-like activities, Tango and Real head to their hotel room to change for dinner. They find a table full of personalized stuff for each of them, including silk robes and gold(-tone) lighters with their names engraved. They get dressed, each telling the camera about how important it is to make a good impression that night.
New York meets them down at an outside table. The dudes each tell the camera how amazing New York looked, and all I can say is...
Really? 'Cause she looks like Donna Summer in full stage makeup to me. And I mean Donna Summer as she is today. But hey, the dudes are happy.
New York starts by asking Real what he's looking for in a woman and he gives a pretty heartfelt, if unimaginative, answer: "A true woman, an honest woman." He says something about dedication and adds, "I never, ever in a million years want to get divorced." Well, shit, dude, nobody does! (Before they get married, anyway.)
The devolution of Real starts accellerating when New York asks Tango the same question. Now, admittedly, Tango is spewing some of his usual cheese, but still, there's no call for Real to mug for the camera like that. I drop my "Free Real!" armband onto the floor.
However, New York seems to find it amusing. Tango, realizing that he's losing his audience, pulls out his big gun: the L word. He leans in to whisper something to New York, and even she realizes it's bullshit, 'cause she calls him on it.
I don't know which I want to do more: yell at Tango to knock that love business off, or yell at Real to quit acting like his brother. New York tells Tango that if he loves her, he'll understand if she takes Real back to her room to get to know him a little better.
Okay, now, you'd think that having "won" the dinner, Real would quit acting like a drunken ass. But you'd be wrong. As New York kisses Tango goodnight, Real responds thusly:
He even falls off his chair in his little vomit pantomime, meaning that New York has to call to him on the ground and wait for him to regain a vertical orientation before they can leave.
Come on, now, Real. Flav would have at least rolled on the ground and smacked it a couple times; Flav would have made that shit entertaining and not just weird. I move my "Free Real!" armband into the litter box.
Once New York and Real get back to her place, he drops the buffoonery and reverts to his silky-smooth love man ways.
And while New York seems very receptive to what he's saying, she's keeping her eye on her first and truest love.
After a while, she sends Real home for the night. I can't help but notice the contrast between this chaste evening and the skin-crawling leer Flav had as he put the "do not disturb" sign on his hotel room door on both trips on both seasons of Flavor of Love. I think I like it better this way, frankly.
The next day, Chance and Whiteboy join New York in another part of Palm Springs for a day of hot air ballooning. Whiteboy is delighted at the prospect, saying it's symbolic of how big things can be with New York.
Chance, meanwhile, is scared of heights and says the burners on the balloons were "like a dragon." He clutches his screwdriver for comfort.
New York and Whiteboy talk Chance into the balloon basket, but he's still nervous (and frankly, I would be too).
Chance and New York both cower in the bottom of the basket; Chance, for fear of heights, and New York, in fear for her weave.
But eventually, the smooth motion of the balloon and Whiteboy's encouragement cause both New York and Chance to stand up, and they all wind up having a great time.
And that does make me happy, because I'm always glad to see people overcoming their fears and opening their hearts to new experiences. Yes, even Chance.
There's some stupid drama about landing the balloon near power lines and New York shrieks a lot, but they land just fine. Then the dudes head to the hotel to change for dinner and booze it up some more.
I would like to point out that these two thugs are total girl-drink drunks. Whiteboy appears to be enjoying a Cape Cod, while Chance is going for either a mimosa or a big honkin' screwdriver.
At dinner, Whiteboy greets New York with a kiss. Chance, ever the gentleman...
...wipes her lips off with a napkin before kissing her lest he get Whiteboy cooties or something. A violinist appears, and New York asks Whiteboy to dance. He leads her off, leading to yet another tableau suitable for framing:
After a couple of minutes, Chance cuts in to Whiteboy and New York's dance. I'd like to compare and contrast their dancing styles.
A strange sort of tug-of-war ensues, with the only clear winner being New York's ego.
Eventually, they call a truce and sit down for dinner. Unlike her dinner with Tango and Real, New York doesn't ask many in-depth questions of Chance and Whiteboy. Perhaps she senses that there's not much point.
After this exchange, New York asks Whiteboy back to her room. This is his reaction:
This is Chance's:
Wah-wah-wah-waaaaaaaah. New York tells Chance that he can excuse himself whenever he'd like to (ouch!) and heads back to her chateau with Whiteboy.
I'm going to warn you, the next couple of shots are going to be pretty hard to take. They're like crime scene photos or something. I'll understand if you want to just skim over them and not think too much about what you're actually seeing.
The whipped-cream-licking party is in full swing when New York asks Whiteboy about that five-year relationship his sister mentioned. Specifically, she asks when it ended. Two months ago, he tells her.
Yeah. Sorry about that, New York. Not long after this exchange, she sends Whiteboy home for the night.
The dudes and New York return home and everyone prepares for that night's elimination. We're treated to a peek at a long-absent cast member.
Awwww, Your Majesty! Nice to see you again! Um, not that I condone anxious little dogs in any way, shape or form.
New York's Mom confronts Chance over his behavior the previous night. "What did you do to Tiffany?!" "Huh?" Mama NY recalls him telling New York to shut up and grabbing her cigarettes. Chance pretty much shrugs it off, possibly figuring that since New York told him to shut up first, his "shut up" doesn't count. Yes, but the Newports, Chance. You disturbed the sanctity of the Newports!
New York and her mom discuss which of the dudes should be going home. Mama NY has her own opinion about who should be leaving.
You don't honestly think that finger is pointing at anyone other than Chance, do you?
The dudes gather downstairs on their little riser, and New York comes down to meet them. She announces that she's flipping the script this elimination, and that she wants the guy who knows in his heart that he isn't ready for love to step down.
There are assorted camera interviews about how none of them are sure about what's going on, and I start to wonder if maybe the cats have a higher collective IQ than this group.
Crickets chirp. Glaciers melt. Mountains erode.
Finally, an utterly unsure Chance steps down, only to be told by New York that she wasn't talking to him. Feeling the inevitable frustration that always accompanies having to state the obvious, she tells Whiteboy that he's simply not ready for a serious relationship with her.
So the either stubborn or dense (or, horror of horrors, both) Whiteboy says goodbye to the two dudes he genuinely likes and goodbye to New York.
Next week, it's down to the final three: Tango and two dudes that totally hate him. Oh, but Tango's gonna battle that hate with some sweet...
Right. Yeah. Good luck with that. We also get to meet the moms, which should be interesting.
You know, I must have had to go to the toilet during that whipped cream lick-fest. I'm not sorry I missed it! Ech!
Posted by: Cheesemeister | March 16, 2007 at 06:24 AM