Lori looks a little like a combination of last year's Krista, last year's Nicole, and Daisy Duke. Well, if Daisy Duke were more of a nerd from Wisconsin. Lori looks at the camera and says, "Bring it on." Apparently, she didn't get the memo that no one from Wisconsin can convincingly say "bring it on."
Josh. Oh, Josh. Josh hails from the bottom of a large dumpster, where, approximately thirty years ago, a forgotten can of Spam developed a strange green fuzz and accidentally came in contact with the nearby corpse of a rat that had died a week earlier. Several drops of beer fell upon the two, and Josh was spawned. He tells us he's a "joker." He holds up the Joker from his deck of cards. You know, I have rarely hated a reality-show contestant as much as I hated Mike Boogie, but if I had to choose between Mike Boogie and Josh to be my prom date, I would select Mike Boogie so quickly that Josh's putrid swath of generic facial hair would be knocked clean off his face. Which, ironically, would be an improvement.
Chiara, a cute brunette, tells her dad on the phone that she's going to be on Big Brother. He must be so proud. She calls herself "the girl next door who's gonna kick your ass." She doesn't really look capable of ass-kicking to me. Unless it's a fairly passive ass that's at issue. Eric says that "when the lights go down, [he's] full of surprises." You know, when that's true, it doesn't seem to me that it's invariably good news. Skinny Lisa -- whose Alanis Morrisette resemblance was correctly noted in the forums -- shows off her tattoo and promises to "go through the men and eighty-six those women." Elsewhere, my eyes try to avoid seeing Josh tell me he has "a pretty good way with women," but they are too busy steeling themselves for the sight of him spanking some unfortunate female and calling her ass an "onion." Amy calls herself "Scarlett O'Hara." And here I thought you couldn't actually hear long-dead fictional characters screaming. Eric says that if it will help strategically, "[he] will. Hook up. With girls." If he expects me to be surprised, he hasn't watched nearly enough television.
Packing, packing, packing. Lisa is concerned about going three months without sleeping with her cat, and Tonya is worried about three months without sex. You know, there's a pretty darn evolved joke in there somewhere, but this show is on three times a week, so I really don't have time for evolution. Gerry sings the blues very, very badly. I hope they don't let him bring his guitar. Leaving, leaving, leaving.