The comics arrive at the Paris Hotel in Vegas and pile out of the NBC clown car. Kerri hits us with the genius assumption that the audience is sure to be bigger in Vegas. Duh. It’s Vegas. EVERYTHING’S bigger. Todd Glass, who is both hyperactive and hypersensitive explains to us that he’s been told that he’s “on” too much, so he’s toning down his off-stage persona. This will last almost until he finishes that sentence. Upon checking in, they find out that they are sharing their rooms, whereupon they all proceed to throw hissy fits. Are you freaking kidding me? These people are auditioning for a show that will put them in a, as in one, house with nine other of these freaks. Once there, they are certain to have to do tasks for a national TV audience that would make Pauly Shore turn up his nose. I gotta say, if you’re peeved about the rooming situation at a resort hotel, it’s only going to get worse…much worse, and very quickly. Turn back now.
Here are your room assignments as shown:
• Sue and Marina • Bonnie and Kerri • DC and Todd • Ant and Dan Ahdoot
Kerri thinks Bonnie doesn’t like her. Bonnie does her one better by saying that not only doesn’t she like her, but she doesn’t like her act. She probably thinks her babies are ugly, too. I have to agree with her sentiment that advancing women who aren’t funny sets the movement back, but sweetheart (I hear she prefers to be called that), you’re not exactly settin’ it off yourself with your “I’m a hobag” routine. Just sayin’.
Ant enters his room and announces that he was unaware that they would be sharing rooms, as if his knowledge of such would change his participation in this event one iota. See, here’s the thing. If your public belly-aching isn’t going to either cause action on your part or achieve anything but derision in your general direction, it’s best to keep your damn piehole shut. I’m sorry you weren’t consulted on this, Ant, but y’see you are…well, you’re effingAntferchrissakes, as in the guy with so little going on that he could spend two consecutive years whacking away at this little slice of insignificance. So the odds of anyone giving a rat’s ass (not to be confused with Ratboy’s ass, which has much more market value, or so I’m told) about your feelings regarding pretty much everything while in the custody of The Peacock are roughly equivalent to those on J-Lo and Marc Anthony’s nuptial bliss lasting til the end of time. Unable to lash out at his oppressors, he does the next best thing. He gets catty at Dan for picking a bed without checking with him first. WTFever, dood.
Meanwhile down the hall, in DC Benny’s private hell, he’s trying to tell Todd that, although he gave the initial impression that he has the self control of Robin Williams on a 6-day coke bender, he’s actually pretty low-key. And he says it with a straight face, too. Flash forward to about 4 AM, and Todd is jumping on the bed like a kid who just ate a pile of Lik-M-Ade the size of the pile of dust on Tony Montana’s desk at the end of Scarface and repeating with Rain Man-like precision that he’s “Todd Glass and he’s always on”. I’m sure DC Benny is imagining killing Todd in his sleep. Heh. Like he’s ever falling asleep.
Downstairs, they cram the comics into a small room with finger food, and call it a reception. Bullshit. I’ve been to bigger receptions at the local VFW hall. I’m guessing this is to give them some material to use, since what we’ve seen so far is making Dat Phan sit back in his newly expanded desk bungalow and say “I’m funnier than all y’all muthas”. Todd Glass continues to work in overdrive, causing Ant to say the only funny thing he’ll utter all night: “He looks and says, ‘These guys look like they’re having a good time. Let me go f*ck that up.’” Kathleen guarantees a crazier Todd Glass as the show goes on. Oh goody.
Hobag Bonnie grabs Todd and sticks her tongue down his throat. Apparently the caravan of folks she’s willing to do to get a leg up on the competition extends to desperate, middle-aged ass-clowns. Ant clues us in to the fact that Bonnie only fraternizes with the men. Mostly? Ant is just jealous that they like to look at her ass and not his. Bonnie shows us her “Hi Mom!” thong. That gal is all class.
Meanwhile Kerri Louise is fuh-reaking out. WhatamIgonnado, whatamIgonnado? Well, you can start by saying something funny…ever. Monty tells us about the mental gymnastics they’re all going through before the big night as the Rocky music swells. Oh, the torture these poor attention whores must be going through…
Outside, Gary is pimping himself out to the tourists in line. He’s very good as a greeter. If this comedy thing doesn’t work out, I see a roll of smiley-face stickers and a blue vest in his future.
Alright, enough with this stupidity, let’s get on with the show. As pure window dressing, The Peacock has enlisted the services of Tess, the sassy finalist from last season, Anthony Clark, a man who had a perfectly good stand-up act that he threw away for one of the most unwatchable shows in the history of television, Drew Carey, who thinks squinting through contact lenses is going to make people forget that he’s pushing 3 bills, and Brett Butler, the woman who was swallowed by Roseanne’s wake, under the guise that they’re “talent scouts”. Mostly it’s just a Hail Mary on the part of their agents to get their mugs in front of a camera so they can pay for their kids’ dental work.
Meanwhile back with the comedians who have yet to destroy their careers…