Much squealing and jumping up and down from Bunky, Hardy, and Mike, respectively. Mike buys the patrons in his bar a round of martini shots. He’s wearing a visor sideways. What’s up with that?
Will’s fellow physicians manfully shake his hand and punch him on the shoulder. Will is hot.
The other house hottie, Hardy, finishes up his kick-boxing round and tells us that “life is an adventure.” He’s sweating all over the camera.
Krista smiles and claims that she’s “the number-one drama queen.” She’s cute. She looks just like my college roommate.
Will walks around in his white lab coat some more, before sitting down in what looks like a hospital trauma room and explaining that he walks a fine line between confidence and cockiness. I wonder what he does for a living.
More reaction shots from the new housemates. People scream. Kent sits by a swimming pool and smarms that he knows “eleven other people who are going to be in trouble.”
Shannon and her volleyball pose in her front yard. She introduces herself as “the athlete.” Then she puts on a one-shouldered tank top and goes inside her house and makes dinner and tells the camera that the whole world is going to know every time the houseguests (insert coy pause) cook dinner. Yeah, but only if they can be bothered to watch, Shannon.
Kent is still sitting by his pool. “If you want me to, I’d be happy to get on your nerves,” he says. No comment. Well, not yet.
Monica tells us she owns a candy store. “I am Brooklyn,” she says. Um, okay. According to the CBS web site, she also likes to “date football.” I think Monica has a tenuous hold on the English language at best.
The houseguests are told they have, like, ten minutes to pack and then they have to hit the road. Cue ten fascinating minutes of people packing before we cut back to houseguest introductions.
“I’m Autumn, and I’m only good when I’m bad,” Autumn coos, and then gets in her bikini and stands in her swimming pool and strikes a series of sex-pot poses. Someone needs constant attention, I fear.
Bunky stands in his backyard, in front of a rainbow-colored pinwheel, and tells the camera that he’s “triple C: creative, complex and crazy.”
Sheryl poses in her foyer and coos that she’s an experience we’ll never forget. That sounds kind of dirty to me.
Speaking of dirty, Will stands naked in his closet. He holds out an orange ruffled tuxedo top, and grins. “I’m the world’s leading authority on bad seventies clothes,” he says. I’m in love with him.