Making the Band
MTV Concert

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This is The End

O-Town returns home. "I understand where [Jay is] coming from, but he can't really judge everything that I'm going through," Ashley moans in self-pity. But Ashley, he does know the difference between "messy" and "clean," which something akin to the (albeit less-pronounced) level of disparity between "Germany" and "the Americas." Jay walks into the living room and sasses, "Look, the house is clean." Jacob rolls his eyes and condescends that it looks very special indeed. "Nice work, Jay. We need to hire you full-time," Jacob brats. Asshole. He calls an unidentified girl, and I hope she hangs up on Jacob immediately after spitting so hard into the phone that it actually comes out the receiver and dribbles into Jacob's ear. The guys eat pizza and rib Jay. Dan giggles that it's so simple to give a guy "like that" a hard time. Like what, Dan? Gay? Oh, those absurd gays! Right, Dan? Such an anal-retentive group. Ha! Anal! Get it? Oh, silly gay fey Jay, so gullible and high-strung and tidy and, well, homosexual. He's asking for the verbal abuse, right, Dan? Sure! Speaking of Fey Jay, he walks into the kitchen as Ashley moves toward the garbage can. "No no no no no," Jay tsks at Ashley. "Not unless you walk that outside." Ashley is surprised that anyone would ask him to empty a half-empty garbage bin, and I'm inclined to agree. Trevor busts out with, "An apple a day keeps Jay's nagging away." And a Molson or four makes this less of a bore. Defeated, Jay tries to laugh it off but he is clearly peeved that no one echoes his priggishness. "It's not for me, it's not so the house will be clean, not so we're sticking to my schedule," Jay insists to the camera. "It's so they learn to control their time." As Ashley shovels pizza into his drooling maw, Jay scoffs at the idea of five grown men unable to handle washing glasses or dumping the odd plate or three into a dishwasher. "You have bigger issues than I can help you with," Jay groans. With his mouth full, Ashley's garbled voice points out that the real issue is their show in two days, although some more advanced theorists posit that a bigger problem is the sheer volume of masticated goop flying from Ashley's gob. Those scraps could feed a small country.

We return to the rehearsal studio briefly. Ashley repeats that the Georgia show is O-Town's first Miller Time. But judging by the breakdancing sequence I'm now watching, he's more Miller Lite than anything else. He spins on his back, legs splayed and baring his crotch to the cameras in a shot that would make Trevor's dad proud. "*N Sync, Backstreet Boys...they didn't put together a group in two weeks," Dan boasts. I bet they did, but had the stellar sense not to admit it, much less debut it publicly. Three weeks ago, a young buck named Dan Miller was perfectly content with his life -- so he now claims. But now, he's learned every dance step ever shown O-Town, and he's ready to rumble. "It's all about making someone melt when I'm on-stage," Dan grins dreamily, blissfully unaware that person will be Lou.

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Making the Band




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