This is farce. There's a red carpet across the middle of the ice, and Lee introduces the players, and then the dad from that awful sitcom about the two gay dads yells about some stuff, and Lee tells us about how you have to "talk about the foundation" so it'll "make them happy." Lee doesn't understand the whole "charity" thing, I think. Hockey is played. Hockey equals lots and lots of socks and hitting. Both blood and vomit bounce if it's cold enough. That's all I know about hockey.

Team Sean. A panda suit person welcomes people to the event. Pontiac cutie worries about not having enough signage and George -- without even thinking about it -- glad-hands the guy about how "You don't need much! They sell themselves!" I wish that George and Lee would yell at each other in a Chinese restaurant about how they each think the other person's life is perfect, and then they would switch bodies, and then Lee could learn a thing or two. George is so awesome. Andrea and Sean get their last minute stuff together, and she bids him good luck sweetly. Andrea sounds pretty good telling people about the cars, and sounds pretty knowledgeable, even though she never says anything about engines or performance and just about the rims and stuff you can see with your eyeballs. Sean sneaks off and goes shopping for hair gel in the Taj Mall. This is not a lie, this is totally the truth. "It's for good luck," he says more than once, and then we watch him spraying his hair down. Fuckface. This is exactly what I'm talking about: he's going to win, but it won't mean anything, because he's winning by sucking less. You couldn't edit it in such a way that we wouldn't be in a quandary of not wanting to root for Lee v. not wanting Sean to win? That's not entertainment, that's a punishment.