Last week, nothing really happened except for Katie's weird Twin Peaks moment in the desert. I hope Native American religion will work on whatever's wrong with Abercrombie & Rich. Bryan Me Badd was a gigantic sweetheart; Jeff Degrees was awful; and Backstreet Chris taught us how to yawn. Everybody whined and avoided accountability, effort, and success like the plague.
Now, the theme music is lackluster and the opening credits underwhelming. Katie has hired a personal trainer named Kristia ("Krista") for Bryan, who weighs 300 pounds and still looks a lot better than Kirkpatrick. Bryan squats, pull-pushes, crunch-factors, yogatinis and does other exercise things I don't know about, and then Kristia warns him that her "Bad Lady" side might come out at some point. They have that lovely trainer/trainee relationship I always enjoy: two parts abusive bassist boyfriend to one part Cider House Rules.
Chris marvels at Bryan's training dedication after his first session, then taunts him with the wonders of liquor. He interviews about how Bryan did not give in to his stupid peer pressure about drinking, and Bryan begs him to lay off, but he's not going to do so. You can tell that Chris is like overjoyed to have this scab of Bryan's that he can pick, pick, pick at and then be like, "I'm so worried about Bryan because he drank that drink I poured down his throat." There's this sickening half-grin on his face, in his eyes, whenever Bryan's drinking comes up, and it's so offensive. There's a moment of foreshadowing about Bryan's own personal Bad Lady, once more, and we despair that we'll ever see her. I feel like mostly we're seeing Chris's Bad Lady, projecting all his substance issues onto poor pathetic married Bryan instead of noticing that he's now 43 years old and living off money from when we were all little babies, and that in all that time he's managed only to get fat and change his hairstyle.
Katie tells the guys about this R&B producer, Bryan Michael Cox, who will be working with them. "Anyone in the music business knows who Bryan Michael Cox is," Rich from LFO tells us. "Also, Rich from LFO knows who Bryan Michael Cox is," we chorus in response. Cox's assignment is for them to get a song together. As usual whenever anybody asks them to act like a music group, the boys are bewildered. Bryan asks for a Dictaphone to work on the song and Chris assumes that he's asking for a blowjob, like in the old days. "Whatever it takes for you to write," Chris giggles weirdly, narrowly avoiding calling him "JT." Rich scoffs in interview about how nobody says "Dictaphone" anymore, as though he knows anything about anything, and how these days we call them "tape recorders." Even being told true things by Rich from LFO makes me angry now. "I look like a turnip," he could say, and I'd be like, "You know nothing about vegetables, jerky. And you look like a turnip." Other terms for Dictaphone, Rich explains, are "hand-held tape recorder" and "could ya get me a small tape recorder." Thanks, buddy.