November 26, 2002
This Year, The Turkey Gets Lucky.
While everyone else in Sin City is carousing happily, Frank sits at home and imagines his mom's home cooking. Even the lovely ladies of Cheetah's cannot distract him from the hot, steamy visions of chicken pot pie and butterscotch chip brownies. The various heaving bosoms and G-strings are mere distractions, worthy only to be pushed on to Steven. "Do it to him," Frank sighs. "He likes all that stuff."
So, why does Frank accompany Steven to a strip club in the first place? It turns out that Frank fancies himself a junior sociologist. "Me, I'm more, like, talking to the strippers." He likes nothing more than soaking up the girls' tales of sick toddlers and abusive ex-husbands named Pit Bull. It makes him feel all warm inside, you see.
Anyway, Frank is looking for a special kind of woman, a woman who can feed him like his mama does. If the strippers cooked him up a pepper steak and mashed potatoes, he would probably fall in love right then and there on the rum-soaked floor. Instead, mes amis, Frank is on a quest to find the one "nice girl" in Las Vegas.
And then, like a bolt out of the blue, Frank spots Melanie, a matronly blonde wearing a floral dress. Why, she looks like she could whip up some mean macaroni and cheese! Frank is busy promoting the Palms' nightclub show, "Lust," but that doesn't prevent him from accosting this earthbound angel. It's not lust Frank has to worry about; it's gluttony. Unfortunately, Melanie is only in town for spring break.
Within two seconds, Frank is already imagining his impending nuptials with Nice Girl Melanie, especially the enormous cake with three different kinds of frosting. I'm sure Melanie is wishing she had some cake to stuff in Frank's mouth; he talks the poor girl's ear off, darlings! But she goes up to the penthouse, anyway.
They prepare to canoodle and cuddle, and they find some privacy in the confessional. Frank begins to nibble on his little ginger-snap, and suddenly, Brynn opens the door. Of course, Brynn imagines something much wilder going on and does not hesitate to spread the news. It's like a game of "Telephone;" Frank's awkward kisses with the Mormonesque Melanie.are magically transformed into orgies featuring whipped cream and spankings.
And this provocation is all Arissa needs to act. She, after all, is the self-appointed policeman when it comes to appropriate sites for sexual congress. Arissa marches right up to the confessional door and yells, this being what she does best. She even shakes her finger, but all that gets her is a door slammed in her face. So, Arissa sits by the confessional and waits for the naughty, naughty children to appear, so that she can berate them in person.
But, was Frank having sex with his Nice Girl in the confessional? Mon dieu, no. These two straight-arrow kids were innocently comparing and contrasting snack cakes when Arissa attacked, and now Melanie is scared to come out of the confessional. Frank has to escort the poor frightened girl away, so that he can hash it out with his roomie, The Enforcer.
Once Arissa is convinced that Frank and Melanie were only hovering uncertainly around first base, she backs down and apologizes for her hot-headed behavior. Of course, once Arissa cries, Frank can't stay mad. They even hug this time. Frank then chases down his midwestern cutie-pie and pleads, "You had fun, right? Do you like me?" Has the love of Frank's life just slipped through his powdered-sugar-stained fingertips?
And that's not the only trauma on the 28th floor, dearies. The kids are discovering that there is no "I" in "Team," but there is a Brynn in some dude's hot tub. Brynn, despite the wriggling and waggling that it sometimes involves, hates her job. She has decided that she doesn't need to apply herself, despite the evil looks from Irulan and Arissa. All those evil looks just seem to melt away when you're soaking in warm, bubbly water, you know.
Of course, Irulan isn't exactly hot on the job, either. The "Lust" theme, with its greased-up Roman centurions and horny medical professionals, doesn't appeal to her. She opts out by appointing herself "photographer." This does not make her popular with the rest of the household. She's not even popular with boss-man Marc anymore. While she's squealing on Brynn, he appears to be contemplating his next cocktail.
The "Lust" performance seems to pass muster, though. Or, at least, the swoozled patrons of Rain don't throw their empties at the Real Worlders. Marc compliments the kids, but warns them that their lack of teamwork and their boozy socializing will only bring them hardship and a possible sacking. To correct this, or actually to punish them, he's sending them to a "team-building" workshop. Upon hearing this, everyone in the room scowls. And rightly so, darlings, those seminars are hellish.
Who Cries? Arissa apologizes for her snap judgement. The resulting shock to her system causes fluid to leak out of her eyeballs.
Most Annoying: Arissa loves nothing more than to yell. Why, she could yell and point her pointy little finger all day long. That stamina is enough to condemn her in my book.
Childbearing Tip of the Week: So you might be pregnant? For heaven's sake, don't think about it! Just put the whole thing off until you're forced, absolutely forced, to deal with Junior. Getting incontinently drunk helps, by the way.
Best Quote: "I'm a sexy nurse! It's sexy, and I like it!" crows Trishelle, who just might have found her future career.
Next Week: Arissa conducts some sort of strange rite
with candles and handholding. Is she some sort of Wiccan?
Want to tell Mrs. Filthy something?