The photographer, Michel Haddi, walks into a room at the Hilton and tells the ladies he hopes they're ready for the shoot. The big surprise of the day is that there will be a male model posing with them, and in the empty room at the Hilton, Shannon enters first, where she discovers a gentleman wearing blue boxer briefs, waxed musculature built for porn of any kind, and an insipid look of general dimness. Shannon freaks out because her magazine wet dream -- and Magazine Wet Dream is totally going to be the name of the first album from my band that totally does punk covers of XTC songs, coming this fall from Mighty Big Records -- has come to life. And that must be a strange and interesting feeling, down in the parts of her that she doesn't understand, finally to meet the person she's been convinced all her life she's supposed to be with, leaping from his two-dimensional prison like the villains in Superman II and standing there before her in exceedingly tight undergarments. I would probably react in the same terrified fashion if I met that person. But to you, I say: Danny Pintauro? If you're out there? Don't even worry about the boxers.
Shannon asks him if he's the model, and he responds in what I think is an accent. I mean, you know how much this business loves accents. Although his "accent" sounds like he's -- I don't know -- deaf? Either way, Shannon is decked out in a white bra and panties, and she puts her arms around Pinkert, who glazes over and thinks about white. Really dumb people can think about white.
Michel Haddi tells us that he thinks Shannon has a pretty face but, overall, he finds her "just a bit lost." Elyse really looks like a porcelain boy child, and she tells us that posing with Brad is like posing with "a statue." But dumber. Michel Haddi puts Kesse right on top of the guy, and then bemoans the fact that she's "not confident." Adrianne bites his ear and Haddi tells us, "She's got it." And Robin, of course, tells us that she didn't "get it" when she first got I there, and Haddi worries, "She didn't trust her own body." In another room at the Hilton, after the shoot, Adrianne asks Shannon if she was nervous, and a knock on the door reveals Monsieur Pinkert in a white bathrobe. His accent is kind of gone, replaced by a sheer cloud of, just, void, that follows him wherever he goes. Even the void is smarter than he is. He asks if they want to go out to dinner later, and then gets the hell back into the hallway where about eight members of the production team can be spotted in the background waiting to get this lump of coal off the damn television set before viewers remember that there's something called "news."