DODES is setting up on the back of a flatbed truck (I don't who the hell these guys are that Josh got to hook them up, but whatever, it's kind of a cool idea). They're just gonna tool around on the back and play their inoffensive brand of pop rock and see what happens. They play in a parking lot, and the police show up, naturally. But Maiya runs around pretending to look for the person with the permit, just to stall so they can play a little longer. Good call, Maiya. Finally, someone in DODES band who has a clue.

HARLOW is trying to promote, and they're having trouble dealing with chipsters. They go to some club, and are introduced as "boobies." Really nice. Not.

FLICK is at some bar drinking and meeting girls, something totally new and different. Cory meets some hot girl and pretty much falls in love with her. So much for his girl back home. He asks her to sing a song with them the next night just so she'll come to the gig. Dude, if you were in my band I'd smack you upside the head. Come on, now.

Back at the DODES camp, Maiya is getting a back massage from some random guy who knows some German technique. Daryl thinks he sees the guy touch Maiya's ass and he totally freaks like a madman. He starts spouting all this angry, Afro-centric psychobabble which makes him seem even more ignorant than I originally thought. Jo Jo tells him he's being stupid, and Daryl actually says, "You're not black, you don't understand." Maybe he doesn't understand being black, but that is not at all what you're really mad at, man. I don't even know why you're so mad. You're just a dick, I guess. "As a black woman, you are a queen, descendant of queens." Enough, Daryl, really. You're just pissed 'cause some dude had his paws all over Maiya, whom you secretly want to bone. It's so obvious. So shut up already, you jerk. God. "You don't understand our history, you don't understand what we've been through." Oh my frigging God. I now hate Daryl forever. There will be no redemption for him.

I don't care whether she's born with it or if it is Maybelline, she is always welcome at my house.

Show day. Merchandise sales look like dis:
FLICK -- $1054
HARLOW -- $90 (ouch, again)
DODES -- $831
CRACKHEAD -- $241 (suck)

FLICKERSTICK is hurting. It's eight in the morning and they were out until 7:55. They want more sleep, but they have to go to the boat for their bonus. The boat is totally tiny, so they decide to just set up a PA system and blast their CD while Rex plays mime guitar. Now that's promotion, folks! "Getting up at eight in the morning is not high up on the FLICKERSTICK list of things to do." Thanks, Cory, that totally wasn't obvious. Minus the "wasn't" part. Fletcher: "I don't think we really knew how to react to a bunch of sport fans. I felt like a dipshit." Yeah, dude. That sucks. It looks like the whole stadium dealy wasn't so sweet. Oh, well.