"Tonight we have a dare checklist!" Sara presents Trista with a list of wacky things that she has to do tonight, just as Trista did for her when she planned Sara's wedding five years ago. Totally unimaginative AND with a million dollars of corporate cash behind it. This ought to be...synthetic.
Dare #1: Write your married name in lipstick on a guy's butt. She does. "Sutter." With a smiley face underneath it. Whoo! Chicks are so cuuuuuuute!
Dare #2: Drink a body shot off a shirtless guy. She does. Whoo! Sisters are doing it for themselves!
Dare #3: Get a pair of guys underwear. Amy -- wow, I didn't even know she was there -- muses, "I'm really surprised that all of these guys are volunteering to, like, take off their underwear and do all these crazy things with Trista!" And don't look at the cameras, the lights, or the staged scenarios to explain it. Because they've got nothing to do with it. What? They don't.
Trista takes a picture next to some guy's butt. In the good news column, this moment is a quickie refresher course of "Lowest Common Denominator," for those of you who haven't thought of it since third grade. Which is apparently where all of these people will next see each other.
Something weird, meanwhile, is happening with the dudes. Some guy named "Josh" tells us, "It's just one of my convictions and one of my commitments to my faith and to my wife just not to be a part of that." Dear Prudith, won't you come out and play? There's a whole cabal of guys down by the beach who refuse to be up in the room with the strippers, and Chris has to go down and beg them -- BEG THEM -- to go watch some hot young ass with the bachelor boy. But for some reason they won't. Ryan tells us that "a real separation" opened between the guys at this point, and that he felt responsible. Leaving out the moment where Bob makes a gay-themed joke in Russ's direction -- because (a) ew, and (b) I've been cutting high-pitched Bob some sexuality slack, but, sometimes, pot meet kettle, is all I'm saying -- a drunken Ryan begs them to come back into the stripper tent. What the hell is going on? What kind of group of pussy-ass losers is this? He's sitting in a chair telling them, "I understand everybody's point of view." What point of view? Isn't this a bachelor party? When did everyone convert to the temperance-loving religion of Dorkism? Free booty! On display! For free! And suddenly everyone's all, "Tithe! Tithe! Let's drink a Fresca and listen to Creed." Straight men. Can they do anything right?