Previously on Fraternity Life: man, oh man, Earl has been one amazing raging asshole. Granted, so have Tim and Steve, but Earl takes the cake and smears it in America's face. He's yelled at the other pledges, driven recklessly, and sold poor Paul's little brother into white slavery. He has taken to dressing up like Hitler and marching around the house in his Gestapo underwear and fake Hitler mustache and screaming "Sieg Heil!" to wake everyone up in the morning. Plus he snags a boner every time he gets in a fight which means he actually gets off on the chaos around him. Like a Japanese monster from the radioactive sea, Earlzilla and his glowing boner must be stopped!
Uhhh, yeah. So anyway, it's time for Hell Week. The pledges are going to be forced to live in the basement of the Fraternity House for a whole week, which subtly explains why this excursion into horror isn't called "Hell Eleven Days And Thirteen Hours." One of those brothers that we rarely see not wearing a turtleneck sweater says that this week of living in a cramped, dank, and nasty basement is designed to make the pledges come together as one in the week leading up to initiation. Not to mention earning them prime candidacy for scabies. The official title of this week is "I Week." I guess that stands for "Initiation Week." I'm not exactly sure, because I missed the first thirty seconds of this week's episode because my two-year-old son had removed my Fraternity Life tape from the VCR and quietly replaced it with a grilled cheese sandwich when I wasn't looking. He's quite the little prankster when we forget his Ritalin. Granted, I thought the room smelled a little cheesy, but Fraternity Life was on and that emits a certain cheese-like odor each week. So I was sent racing into another room of the house that holds my backup VCR and jammed a random tape into the VCR and hit "record." The wife may be a little pissed that our wedding video now has frat boys screaming bleeped "fuck"s at each other instead of us saying "I do," but I think she'll get over it. In thirty years or so. Anyway, the brothers are holding a meeting and say that the pledges are not going to like Hell Week. I think this was stated for the audience's benefit, but who among us wouldn't associate "Hell Week" with seven days full of unpleasantness? You know...with the exception of America's newest heartthrob Brad? My point exactly.
The pledges are shown preparing for I Week. Alex is running around gathering blankets, Steve's reading a book, Jarreau's loading up a backpack full of Vaseline and grinning, while Tim's busy writing his POV for MTV.com and trying to think of new ways to call Nicole a diseased ferret. Earl's saying that the whole concept of I Week just doesn't appeal to him. In fact, it downright sucks. He doesn't want to have to spend time in a cramped basement with the other pledges. He grins and says he sure hopes it doesn't last longer than a week. It's good to see that Earl has this whole "brotherhood" concept down pat. I'm beginning to think MTV needs to give Earl's mother a TV show and call it How To Completely Fuck Your Kid Up In Nineteen Years Or Less. Apparently, this woman threw the concept of common sense straight out the window while raising this drooling mongoloid. Paul's running down the list of things that they're taking, centering mostly on blankets. Steve greets him with a blank stare. Then again, Steve would greet a house fire with a blank stare. We see the boys loading up the SUV with blankets and plastic tarps as Alex says that he's a bit nervous because he doesn't know what to expect from I Week. I guess it would have been too much trouble to ask his freakin' brother, who just went through it the previous semester. He says the only thing he can imagine is that it will mean that he won't sleep for 168 hours, proving that even monkeys can operate a calculator. Somebody hand that chimp a banana! Good job, A-Man! The guys are greeted at the back door by George (in more ways than one, I'm sure) who invites the pledges in. Because this is a fraternity ritual, no cameras are allowed in. You have to imagine that there was probably at least one paddling of naked ass flesh, several alcoholic concoctions mixed with household cleaners ingested and at least one piping Hot Karl served up by Brad.