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Week 5: Airstream Trailers and Massage a-Go-Go's
Original Air Date: 2/17/05
(PAGE 4 of 7)
Meanwhile at Net Worth, Angie is still making fruitless cold calls. When Tara finally takes a swing at it, she hits it home by offering a casting director $1,000 for the day. I have a feeling if Angie had offered that same deal to the mean agent a few scenes ago, they could have saved a few hours of effort. Fortunately, Tana explains that they’ve just secured a top agent who is casting a film with Uma “Thurma.” I’m not sure who Uma Thurma is, but maybe she’s big in Germany.
“Whoo!” Chris cries. No point in reiterating that, except that he’s wicked adorable when he squeals like that.
Back over to Magna…In the car heading towards Queens, Stephanie and Michael are still whining about delivering food. Dude. If I had a chauffer-driven car from Manhattan to Queens at my disposal, I’d be zipping back and forth all day long, just for the fun of it. Whee! Look at me!
Bren proves that he truly has been married for nine years as he talks a hysterical Angie into a corner. “How would you have suggest I done it differently?” he asks calmly. “I would have had food delivered here,” she says. “And how come y’all weren’t capable from doing that from where you were?” Oooh, schnap. “Y’all” is one of those terms that can switch from honeyed delightfulness to a good old Southern butt-whoopin’ in a New York minute.
Net Worth welcomes their casting director into the porn set they’ve created in the trailer. Teammates are sent to “scream it out.” Craig Williams (still woefully underexposed, but rest assured, he’ll last through the game long enough for everyone to point fingers at him for flying “under the radar”), who by the way is sporting a fine mini-‘fro, screams it out. Chris, well, we all know that Chris is capable of screaming out—like a girl that is. Unfortunately, no one is biting, because the thing costs $25 freaking dollars!
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I’m more down with Magna’s deal: $10 for ten minutes of massage. Except I just found this awesome place in Chinatown that was $7 for ten minutes, and after every ten minutes, the lady was like “More?” and all I could do was nod my head in the little head resty-thingy, until I racked up a $56 bill. $56!
Outside, Michael looks pretty creepy as he hands out flyers and asks people if they want a massage. If he didn’t look so pained, it might not be so disturbing.
Somehow at Net Worth they start getting lots of customers in, including a guy named Radar—which rules. And hey, the woman is actually giving jobs to these random wannabe actors off the street. That seems so wise.
Bam! We’re in the Boardroom. I wonder if Trump combed his hair back and added some grease, if it would look like Bren’s?
Jill-who-is-not-Carolyn, very enthusiastically—I mean, robotically—announces that Magna made a total of $918.15. As for Net Worth, George tells us, “They took a big risk…sometimes risks pay off; sometimes they don’t pay off.” But they got $991. Sweeeet! I mean, not that I care about one team over the other, but right now I prefer to root for the team that doesn’t have Michael on it (see what a horrible person this show has made me).
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And how come y’all weren’t capable from doing that from where you were?
