The most interesting part of this whole episode, to me, wasn't that Bret picked Jes as the "winner," 'cause we all knew that anyway. It's that he pronounces the name of his medical condition the same way Wilford Brimley does. And that condition -- the diabetes, not the Brimley resemblance -- comes into play and, we are led to believe, even influences Bret's choice of Temporary Ladyfriend Who Doesn't Actually Want to Touch Him.
I know, I know, how could she not have won?!
We begin with the usual setup of tension among the two finalists, as Jes tells the camera that she's been nice so far, but now the gloves are coming off and the claws are coming out. Ah. That means that now Jes is going to behave like most of the other eliminated skanks and snarl at the competition. So we truly have nobody left to root for anymore.
Even the show's editors seem to realize this, as this shot symbolically shows the two girls facing off ... over a shallow expanse of nothing. Art!
Jes, Bret and Heather take a private jet to Cabo San Lucas. The girls are thrilled by the private plane, and show their delight by patting Bret's butt.
It's like rubbing the Buddha's belly, only sleazier.
The trio is greeted at their resort by a quartet of dancers, one of whom strikes Heather's fancy immediately.
I'll give her this: Heather is assertive at defining what she wants and pursuing it. Of course, so was Moussolini. Like Il Duce on spring break, Heather starts housing on a particularly cute dancer. Bret is utterly flummoxed that a woman he's ignoring other women for is not ignoring other women for him. Dear Lord, it's almost like Bret himself is being ignored! Escandalo!
The girls give their hotel suite the requisite squeals of glee, then meet Bret downstairs for dinner.
Oh...kay. Did Jes and Heather switch wardrobes or something? 'Cause that microskirt with fetish heels looks like something Heather would wear. Soon, however, both women are wearing a snarl --
Well, Heather's is more pronounced, of course, but even Bret can feel the tension in the air, a tension he tries to dissipate by offering the seething women bread. But then, in a misguided attempt to cut through the bullshit, Bret starts asking probing questions. Yeah, that'll smooth things right out.
He starts with asking Heather if her compliments of other women mean that she might like to be in an open relationship with other women. Heather says no (and let's remember that answer for later, shall we?) and follows it with "I'm not a hater, I'm a congratulator."
You know, while we're talking of shallow things, for his next round of plastic surgery, I'd like to recommend a chin implant for Bret. He just kinda ... ends after his mouth, and that's not really a great look.
Moving on. The talk turns to Heather's stripping, of course, and Jes tells the camera that Heather sees Bret as her ticket out of stripping. What's odd is that Heather kinda tells Bret and Jes this very thing, saying that now that she's found something better, she's ready to quit the life. Heather then turns the scrutiny to Jes, asking her if she's ready to face the prospect of stepkids at the age of 23. Oh, like it'll ever come to that.
Jes parries fairly well, pointing out that all 23-year-olds are different. Heather asks Bret if he would've been ready for kids at 23. That's not really fair, though, considering that his mental age has yet to go above 17.
And all I can think is, "Oh, that poor waiter."
The next day, the girls lounge by the pool awaiting the note from Bret telling them who will have the first date.
You know, I've noted for the past few weeks that Heather is built rather straight-up-and-down, but now I realize that Jes is, too. I guess Jes just knows how to dress that body type better. Or maybe just dress it more.
Heather gets the first day-long date. She greets Bret with the obligatory kiss, but all I can focus on is her bikini back, straining valiantly to keep her mic pack aloft.
The day's destination? A field of dirt! Yes, it's time to rough up a little desert habitat in a dune buggy!
The dunes aren't the only thing feeling roughed up, though. Bret is feeling under the weather, diabeetis-wise. Hearing him talk about his disease reminds me of one of the Greatest Shitty Movies Ever Made: Hard Target. In which Wilford Brimley plays Uncle Duvee, a 'shine-stillin' Cajun who, at one point, creates a big explosion and rides away from it on horseback, holding his bow aloft. It's the least Wilford Brimley moment you've ever seen, and it's freaking awesome.
Annnnd, back to this show. Bret tells the camera that he's been partying really hard and it's finally catching up with him. In the premiere episode, when Bret first discussed his diabeetis, J wondered aloud why he wasn't more of a public spokesman for living with the disease. Watching this, I think we have our answer.
He's not doing well, and he lets Heather know it, but in rather mild terms. "We should maybe get something to eat," Bret mutters. ("You've had this condition for how long, and you still don't know to carry a Snickers bar?!" J demands of the TV.) Heather asks to drive the dune buggy, and Bret lets her, but comes to regret it.
So he talks like Wilford Brimley and yells like Ed McMahon. That seems fitting somehow.
After having a light meal, Bret and Heather head back to the hotel to change for dinner. Jes and Heather immediately start sniping at each other. Things reach a new level of trife when Jes yells at Heather to retire her dress after dinner because it screams "stripper" and Heather yells back that Jes looked like a hoochie at dinner the previous night.
The thing is, they're both right.
At dinner, a rather drunk-looking Heather does the unthinkable and tells Bret that she's in love with him.
This is his response:
He tells her, "I don't know what to say to that." Ouch! Damn. If I thought Heather meant it, I'd feel terrible for her, but for some reason, the expression on her face makes me doubt it.
Or maybe it's just the booze.
Bret's reluctance to say anything remotely encouraging to Heather doesn't stop them from making out and heading upstairs, though. I'm reluctant to show you anything that occurred in that room, but I simply couldn't not show the headboard of the bed.
That's totally going in my hypothetical kids' rooms.
The next day, the inevitable Walk of Shame occurs. It's every bit as bad as you could imagine.
Heather greets Jes for breakfast and describes how she spent her evening.
Jes is every bit as grossed out by this as I am. Heather asks if she should shower, because she's still got Bret's smell all over her. "All I smell is rotten pussy," Jes retorts. Damn! Well, the time for subtlety is clearly over.
Jes gets changed for her day with Bret, but before she leaves, Heather tells her to remember the last place Bret's tongue was when she kisses him. Jes tries not to, but it's such a horrifying image, that it can't help but be seared into her brain.
See?
Jes gets the yacht date.
Hmmm. Kind of a step up from dune buggies, wouldn't you say? While on the yacht, Jes and Bret make out a lot and chat about the risks undertaken when one falls in love. It's really boring.
That night, Bret greets Jes for dinner --
Damn, it is always 1987 in Bret's universe, isn't it. Anyway, he talks to her about his diabeetis and how it can threaten his life, and shows her how to use the emergency pen in case things get dicey. Jes is moved by the serious tone of the conversation and cries very prettily.
The two of them head up to Bret's suite, where he has a hot tub in full boil. Jes hits the tub...
...starkers. Bret walks after her, and J and I start pleading the TV, "No, no, no, keep the jeans on!"
That was close.
Back in L.A., Bret ponders his choice, staring at the two remaining VIP passes.
I love that Big John looks angry for no apparent reason.
Do you think Bret ever considers himself in the mirror and says, "You know, maybe there is such a thing as too much bling"? Nah, me neither.
But we are soon taken to another level of excess as we cut to...
I need a moment of silence for that. I am simply awed by the rampant skankosity on display here.
Oh, yeah, Jes gets dressed too.
They face off at the mansion, with the typical bon mots we've come to expect from these dating shows.
I am rendered mute by that yellow dress. Where does one even find something like that? Besides 1982, I mean.
Bret gives them the usual "you're both so great" speech, but then he takes it in an unexpected direction: he asks if both of them would be his girlfriend.
He tells the camera that this is their final test, and by this point, I just want to kick him repeatedly in the shins with some pointy-toed boots.
The girls are not too thrilled with this idea. Heather, strangely, says she'd "love to" share Bret with Jes, but Jes says that she won't share someone and it dawns on me with growing horror: This is the damn parable of Solomon with Bret as both Solomon and the baby! I now want to thrash Bret with gardening tools.
And just like that, Bret realizes: Jes is the girl for him. He calls Heather down, and tells her she's been a great friend.
Yeah. That's about what that shitty line deserves. Heather walks right out without saying goodbye, the first dignified thing she's done in this whole show.
Hey, Jes! That means you won! Yay? She and Bret share a sort of fumbling kiss that nobody cares about because the best part of the episode is unfolding in the limo.
"America's Asshole." For some reason, I had always heard that was Indianapolis. But the greatest bit is yet to come, as Heather remembers...
...she's got his name tattooed on her neck. Sweet backcombing, the reunion show is going to be good!
Oh my God. See I knew we had a bond! ;)
I thought I was the only one with the "Hard Target" love. My favorite part is Van Damme punching the giant snake in the head and "knocking it out" so that it falls on one of the bad guys later. So classic. It's amazing that the director of "The Killer" and "Hard Boiled" could also make that amazingly shitty movie.
Sorry for the tangent!! Thanks for recapping this so I could reserve my eyes for better programming! :)
Posted by: tulip | October 05, 2007 at 09:39 AM
"Hard Target" is just freakin' hypnotic, isn't it? How does Van Damme's hair stay so damn MOIST the whole time?!
Posted by: Catherine Cantieri | October 05, 2007 at 09:10 PM
Good grief, did I ever miss you and your recaps. I was howling at Bret's "Ed McMahon" moments - I was almost expecting a transition back to a late 80s SNL skit, in which Bret would tell Heather "you are correct, SIR!" Then again, there are so many things about Bret that scream 80s that I'm surprised I'm not assaulted constantly by images of Bret as various pop culture phenomena from that era. I love your dating of the various 80s epochs that Bret's different looks evoke. Perhaps my favorite association with Bret and the 80s comes from Wilford Brimley's "diabeetus" chorus to "Rock Me Amadeus", which can be found here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4LyaNgzy6U
In my mind, this came down to "Old and Busted" vs. "New Hotness", a la Men In Black II. I like that dichotomy so much that I've been having a miniature obsession with it over the past few days. But I digress. I squee'd when I saw your Solomonic reference - though there have been intimations that Heather's "I would love to" response was just the result of clever editing, according to her MySpace page: http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=37750266&blogID=314934540
Posted by: Dr. Beevomit | October 06, 2007 at 12:04 PM
This show was a disappointment on so many levels. I'm looking forward to the return of "I Love New York" and "Flavor of Love". Bring back the real crazies!
Posted by: Kim | October 09, 2007 at 01:05 PM
Uh - is Heather a woman?
She looks pretty hard.
Posted by: sudiegirl | October 10, 2007 at 07:34 AM
"It's that he pronounces the name of his medical condition the same way Wilford Brimley does."
HAHAHAHA I thought that was hilarious. I started reading your blog right after you took your hiatus and I have to say that your perspective on these insane reality shows that I sit around and subject myself to is awesome. The world is coming to an end. Love your blog.
Posted by: Whitney | November 03, 2007 at 07:01 PM
I freaking love this shitty series... Your recap was good, funny. I about cried at the Solomon part!
Also, I live in Indianapolis. It's not an asshole, it's an armpit. No shit, just hairy smells.
Posted by: ihadfunonce | January 10, 2013 at 01:28 PM