Anyway, after lunch, Narbolicious and Rich are headed to a "celebrity astrologer," which makes me puke a little bit in my mouth. When they get there, Rich bitches (heh) at Narbo for "rubbing" his "rims," which may sound dirty, but he just means that she's scraping the wheels of his car on the curb as she parks. They bark a bit at one another on the astrologer's lawn, and then go inside. The astrologer hurls platitudinous bullshit at them both, saying that Narb-Narb can be both "extremely sweet, charming, and sensitive" and also "stubborn, resilient, and blunt." Wow, it's like she knows her! Psych. What a bunch of horseshit. "Then there's what's called 'Demon People,' or 'Washatsa Anasi.'" Thanks, Closed Captions! Apparently, these "Washa Your Anusi" have extreme emotions. Wow, that's so boring that I actually just died for a second. I'm dead now. Can we please end it with the astrologer? After Narbo needles the chick for a while about what celebrity comes to see her, all that's revealed is that it's someone from The O.C.. Narby rattles off a bunch of names, and the astrologer's all, "Seriously, stop asking. I have mace. Also, it's pronounced 'Mee-shah,' not 'Mish-kah.'" Finally, Narbtastic backs off, and they leave, but not before revealing that she invited Oprah to the wedding. Ugh. So dumb.
So, it's time for us to meet "34-year-old, soon-to-be desperate housewife" (um, why?) Dana Morgan, who lives in Costa Mesa, California. She and her fiancÃ©, Mike, met three years ago. Mike interviews that he was initially attracted not to Dana's bulbous bazangazangs (thanks, Bunseeds), but to her huge...uh, sense of humor. They both live and work together from home, doing...stuff. The BZ crew doesn't really tell us what it is they do. ["Personal trainers, I'd guess." -- Sars] Dana: "I have certain expectations, and I'm not going to let someone ruin that for me." Hey, power to ya! Mindy, I think you know what time it is: "Can this cool, statuesque beauty keep her composure? Or, will she become a condescending, tear-shedding, tantrum-throwing, hard-to-please, out-of-control Briiiiiiidezilla!" Mindy, you've been using "out-of-control" as your big BZ prefix way too much recently. How 'bout something a little more non sequitur...ial? Like "punch-you-in-the-ass" or "throwing-kittens-in-a-blender"? How about "razor-blade-farting"? Anything to keep me awake and maybe even give me a giggle, because your shit? Not funny. Just hit me with some clips so we can go back to Narbo, and get closer to ending this travesty: "She can go stick her flowers up her cunt!" Whoa! I did not expect the Seaward so early on in this Fleet Week! Yikes. "Just call me 'Bitchzilla.'" "I look like a lunatic!" No argument here. "I'm so frickin' overwhelmed." "No, it's not!" "Ugh." "Good frickin' God." And, of course, Dana's big moment: "This is the drama. It is happening. This is what you want. Here it is." Mmmkay.