October 22, 2002
So, what do the kids do all night when they're on the job? According to their boss, they're supposed to be "interacting with customers" and "promoting" the nightclub. That doesn't sound like that much work to me, especially compared to what I had to put up with today at Hancock Fabrics. Becky didn't show (She said she had the flu, but just wait! Tomorrow she's going to show up with a brand new pair of stirrup pants and that annoying self-satisfied smile on her face.), the toilet in the employee restroom backed up, and then there was the crazy old biddy who wouldn't rest until she had found a set of "Brownsville Brassies"-whatever those are. We had to go through every rack of buttons in the store! I don't see the kids deal with anything like that.
But, evidently, even the Real Worlders' cushy jobs prove to be too arduous to bear. At first, Trishelle seems to be doing a fine job of "interacting" and "promoting." Within ten minutes, she gets one guy's phone number and is already on to the next gentlemanto ensure brand loyalty, of course. Brynn, in contrast, must have relatively poor marketing skills; after an hour, she hasn't had a single guy ask her about The Palms or Rain or anything.
Brynn still can't get over Trishelle's big bosoms, or the fact that guys seem to like her more. At one point, she says that she's not sure she even wants to be friends with such a statuesque person; the jealousy might be too much to handle. Brynn seems to get along with the other girls just fine, though. With glee, she relates Trishelle's man-grabbing exploits to Irulan and Arissa. If Brynn can't grab a man, she can at least live vicariously through Trishelle, right?
Just wait, my dears. The ski dance will level the playing field a bit. "What's a ski dance?" you ask. Well, mes petites, a ski dance involves lingerie, serpentine movements and ski boots, a combination that's guaranteed to grab attention anywhere. Brynn takes to the whole ski dance thing like a sow to sweet corn, but Trishelle has problems from the beginning. She's not flexible enough, she's too tall, her family never loved her, blah, blah, blah.
What Trishelle is really afraid of is that the other girls will look sexier than her, especially when Brynn and Irulan decide to be dance partners. Well, darlings, it's tough to look sexy when you're constantly falling on the floor like a stunned calf. So, Trishelle just saunters away from her responsibility, without so much as a tra la la, or a how-do-you-do or an updated resume. And then she worries that she might have angered her employers.
Brynn doesn't have it all easy, though. The theme of this particular shindig is "Good to Be Bad," and the kids have to dress up as angels and devils. Never say that the nightclubs of America aren't creative, cutting-edge places, sweeties! Anyway, Brynn has to find a devil outfit that flatters her rather sausage-shaped torso, and she has to find it at Frederick's of Hollywood. And, I thought the little aprons we have to wear at Hancock Fabrics were ugly!
Alton is having an even tougher time. He has to be an angel, and it's very difficult to look manly as an angel. I mean, if you look at those angel figurines they're always selling in the Sunday circulars, they're always women, or little children. You'll never see a big Rambo looking angel wearing a football jersey or sporting a crewcut, even though all the angels in the Old Testament seem to be pretty tough guys. Alton is reduced to wearing little white wings and a feathery halo, and he worries that he looks gay.
Well, he does look gay, actually. Then, when Trishelle decides not to dance, Alton has to dance with Steve. He agrees to do it, but makes sure that everyone realizes how unhappy he is. We get a glimpse of Alton's bitterness when Trishelle calls to him, "So you and John made up?" and he mishears "So you and John made out?" "Shut up!" he bellows, before he realizes his mistake. "This is the worst possible situation I could be in," Alton declares, forgetting all about little things like poverty, war and disease. Nope, being mistaken for gay is much, much worse! Call the United Nations, for heaven's sake!
The big night arrives, and everyone dons their halos and horns. Trishelle sets out to mingle, mostly with yon hunky bartender. The others, except for Frank, shake their booties on stage. We don't hear why Frank isn't dancing, but I'm sure we can all imagine the reason. The dancing seems to go well, too; Alton even gets a tip and not from a man, either. Or wait, that lady did look a little butch.
So, the kids are pumped up with their success, and Alton claims to have already learned his lesson about homophobia. But all is not well in the house yet. Arissa, Irulan and Brynn vent in the confessional about Trishelle's lack of professionalism. "I'm tired of the dumb as rocks routine," says Irulan, although I'm not sure why she thinks it's only a routine. Trishelle, of course, hears the whole thing.
She confronts the other girls, reminding them that she did hand out flyers, after all! She probably sustained paper cuts in doing so, too. But, in the privacy of the confessional, she breaks down. She can't stand being the odd one out, and before you can say "Blanche DuBois," she's pleading with her female housemates to love her again. Will she do her job? That remains uncertain, my pets; she just wants love, not a work ethic.
Who Cries? Trishelle weeps, "I love everybody in the house!" even as she's sure they're plotting her downfall.
Most Annoying: Sure, the ski dance is silly, but Trishelle backs out just because she's afraid she won't look as good as the other girls. What kind of work ethic is that, mes amis?
Skiing Tip of the Week: After a day on the slopes, what could be more fun than an evening of "ski dancing?" It's "sexy", it's "sensual," it's huge in Aspen!
Best Quote: "I'm not into that rolling around, twirling like a ballerina, thing," growls Alton. Well, darlings, it's hard to twirl with skis on, so he shouldn't worry!
Next Week: Brynn tries out for her dream job, and,
oui, it involves writhing.
Want to tell Mrs. Filthy something?