Previously on Operators Are Standing By, Holding Their Noses: The Apexiennes were getting their asses kicked, so Trump sent Pamela over on cleanup duty and forced her to be the PM. She successfully got the women working together competently, but when she overpriced a bunch of sponges, Trump decided that was more important than the weeks and weeks of screwing up of which some of her compatriots were guilty, and he sent her home. Can't have the tall, intimidating women using all that estrogen and trying to wear pants and own property and scaring the old boys right out of the club, can you? In other developments, Apex decided that it might be better if their QVC presentation didn't actually cause children to have nightmares about being chased by an enormous monster called The Blinker, so they relegated Maria to a less prominent on-camera role. Stacy made a ridiculous and hyperbolic Enron reference worthy of...well, Donald Trump, actually, while Kelly and Raj clashed over the price of a panini grill in a showdown that might have actually meant something had the men not squeaked out the win by ten dollars. Thirteen vainglorious suck-ups are left -- who will go home this week?
Credits. Nothing personal. Just business. It's just like when they hose the mud off of you at a day spa.
The moon shyly hides behind a skyscraper in this week's installment of Buildings Gettin' Busy With Other Buildings. A taxi decides at the last minute not to run over a lady pushing a shopping cart. Inside the suite, the Aspiring Corporate Weasel Death Watch is in full swing, and John is taking the opportunity to share his wisdom, which is that if the women at the final table gang up on Pamela, Trump will just think they're afraid of her. You know, like the men are. He adds that "Trump likes her a lot." Raj looks queasy, and then in an interview, he says that Trump has viewed Pamela as the strongest woman in the group, but the rest of the team has ganged up on her, and he personally believes she's the one who should go. Back at the Death Watch, Stacy and Maria bounce into the suite, and Stacy chirps, "What's for dinner?", all self-satisfied and smirky. What's sad is that you can tell she worked on that -- "What's for dinner?" -- for, like, ten minutes. Exactly how to say it, how surprised and thrilled everyone would be...she had mental rehearsals. You can tell. When she unveils Maria and the rest of the group realizes that Pamela was fired, there is lots of squeeing and excitement. As usual, however, none of this is positive energy -- nobody likes Maria or Stacy, either, they're just glad Pamela was fired. Wes and Andy share a particularly unbecoming low-five, which, together with Andy's early "hit her with a shovel" comment, just smacks of a couple of dickweeds who can't get the women who are smarter than they are -- and wouldn't even consider sleeping with them -- out of the game soon enough. "You did yourselves a favor; you did us a favor," Wes opines. And gee, Wes, thanks for that. "Ding dong, the ice queen is dead," Raj says. I find it uproariously funny, in a spit-on-the-floor-in-disgust kind of way, that in this particular suite, any woman could be criticized for being an "ice queen." Is that all there is, really? Just ice queen and drama queen? ["Grammar queen. Oh, wait, that's taken. BY ME. Shut up, Raj." -- Sars] Are there no other openings in the Great Women's Monarchy? Raj interviews about the "outburst of excitement" at Pamela's non-return, and he can just feel his penis growing in size the entire time.
I really can barely stand to recap Stacy's excited, self-congratulatory, obnoxious retelling of her "Enron" comment, but the one consolation is that this moment, more than any other, makes it entirely clear that she has absolutely no idea how hateful she is, how contemptible her behavior has been, or how badly she's going to come off. The smugness she is showing in this scene resonates nicely in light of how shocked she probably is right now to find herself so thoroughly reviled. Whatever she obviously was certain would seem adorable and feisty about her is, needless to say, not working. Ah, well, Stacy, enjoy your five minutes on the C-list before you're demoted to the F-list, where you will find such past luminaries as Heidi, Tammy, and Katrina. If you're lucky, six months from now, you'll show up on the Fug Blog at a Kate Spade purse showing, holding a martini glass and sporting an ill-advised pink outfit that makes you look like a walking Bonne Bell Lip Smacker.