It's morning time now, Randi taking the storied walk of shame, because every footfall she ever makes is a walk of shame, just as every step Steve ever takes is, in a lot of ways, the Truffle Shuffle. In her giant bathroom (of shame), Randi hides inside her big pink robe (of shame) and confessionalizes, "I'm feeling awful." She tells us that she really wanted to break down to Anna, but that "the money would absolutely change [her] life. It would change [her] family's life." She wades through her boudoir of styling products and puts her upper-middle-class blonde hair up in twee braids, knowing damn well that a quarter of a million dollars is a fraction of her father's stock portfolio and that the only person she's in this game for rhymes with "Rand-me." Shut up, Pippi Shamestocking.
For some reason, the rationale that Randi should teach Steve some yoga "to relax him before we're gonna have to meet our parents" gains some traction, and we cut to a poolside shot of Randi wearing blue yoga pants and stretching. As Steve jogs up wearing natty black sweatpants and a grey sweatshirt, he explains that the central focus of this particular hilarious set piece will be, "We couldn't resist laying a fart joke on her." Well, there you go, then. Just in case they were going to pretend that the setup of this show was going to appeal to anyone beside the lowest common denominator of human behavior...this. And, I'm sorry, I hate to be prudish and I like the South Park movie just as much as anybody else, but that's because at least there the poop jokes rhymed, man. But when you're resorting to scat humor three episodes in to a six-week series and you haven't even met the parents it appeared from the promos were going to appear in the first five minutes of the opening episode, your setup/payoff ratio is way outta whack. So while I appreciate the efforts of Steve's actorly "family" and their ability to convincingly portray a nuclear unit of singular odiousness, I'm sorry to say that this moment has forced my skewed morality to find its creamy nougat center: strictly on principle, I have to keep giving this show an "F." An "F" for "fart," that is! Sigh. See what this show has turned me into?
Steve and Randi stretch and fold and Steve does a hilarious headstand. He tells us, "I was just waiting for the perfect moment to enter with my next gag. I had a stink bomb in my pocket, and I was ready to let it rip." Well, Steve, this is your lucky day, because opportunity poops in the form of a move Randi describes as "take it back, walk, top of a push up" that requires going from a crouching position to...well, a push-up. Or the top of it, I guess. Steve jumps up and kicks back, letting one rip and thus officially ending my relationship with the Fox Network, its subsidiaries, any and all other television holdings, and any newspapers or periodicals published, dreamt up, or glanced at by Rupert Murdoch, either real or imagined. Ah. That felt good. Hey, look. All of my channels are gone and I don't know what the Republican Party is!