Last week, Roxanne kind of laughed at Tammy when she said she was getting ganged up on, but then so did I. Trump told them -- and this is important, if you look up as the anvils are falling on your tender little head, you can see this etched into them -- that there's a "difference between friendship and business." If you're a lady, anyway. If you're a man, friendship comes with the territory, because men are accountable for their behavior in a way women never could be. Yeah, it's going to be that kind of recap. Between this and fucking X Men III I'm this close to giving myself a crazy-person haircut in the bathroom and carving "Susan B. Anthony Died For Your Sins" into my torso like Marky Mark, whilst listening to music from the imaginary Riot Grrl movement of the late '90s. Or maybe I'll go the other way, scarf a Double Meat Man-Boy Love Burger, and just start tossing women in the pool. The first one that doesn't float, that's the girl I'll marry.
Maybe it'll be Sean, who is making a salad for his woman, whom he knows is not coming back with his head, but his heart keeps whimpering, "Hundreds of Apprentice babies, and then I'll finally be a man." He dances around with a mannequin to which he's stapled a picture of her face while telling us that if Tammy comes back, he'll be "over the moon," and that "probably" the first thing he'll do is "grab her and take her in the bedroom and just give her a big hug." What is this, Cinemax? That kind of filth may be fine in the land of Madame George and roses, but over here it's just sickening. The wave of pure, seething masculinity that comes off Sean all the time is really just overwhelming.
On the subject of bitches, Sean tells us that Roxanne and Allie "put on the image that they're holier than thou," that they're "clean," but that when the cards are down, they will totally play along with your made-up excuses about drowning in a sea of "istrogen" or whatever the fuck reason you get to think of yourself as a victim. Downstairs, Trump fires Tammy for her design, which admittedly he's right in saying "stunk," and the Unclean Women return to the suite. Lee hugs Allie, who pours a glass of wine for the very stressed-out Roxanne, and Lee stands around noticing Sean's extreme pouting in the corner. He interviews that he'll "have to listen to them for another week" and pouts some more, because of their horrible harpy voices. At dinner, Allie and Roxanne talk about how Tammy "went after" Roxanne, who tells us that Tammy's "beefs" (cut to the steak Sean has tenderized with his tears) with her could really apply to Lee or Sean, and I wish we could hear more of that conversation, because WORD. Allie does more of that nonstop chattering about how there was no "teaming up" and repeats that obnoxiously forever, and then -- this is subtle -- says that she was just trying to mediate between Roxanne and Tammy, who were really the ones causing trouble. Which is funny, because Allie was the only one called out by both Viceroys for her bitchy behavior, but hey, she's a martyr, what can you do. Sean blanches as Allie describes -- almost impartially -- the way that Tammy wasn't having it, just kept "huffing and puffing and ignoring," which I totally agree with. He's ever so sickened and scandalized by Allie's ongoing self-flattery, which I'm feeling, and then gets all Sean-like into the camera about how he's "bored to tears of the rubbish that they come up with," and that he will "destroy" them, and that he will take "great pleasure" when they have to go back to the Boardroom. Fuck all four of you for the fact that I agree with him on that, and fuck you double for making me root for effing Lee. Out of eighteen people, the only competent person on my screen is also the total pisher I've been hating the entire time. Go Lee!
Credits. Sean answers the phone, disgustingly, in his underwear -- why always the underwear, with Sean? -- and Rhona has a totally different voice than normal when his accent hits her ears. They are told to meet T-Square at Estée Lauder for the next task. You know who's a total bad-ass? Estée Lauder. What a fantastic lady she was. So the music goes crazy and we realize why we're at Estée Lauder: the one-year anniversary of Trump's fragrance. Some random ladies do a bunch of stuff for Trump while he looks self-satisfied, and when the Apprenti come by, Trump tells Allie and Roxanne that what they did to Tammy "was not nice, but it's called business," and Sean pouts. One of the ladies describes how the Trump Smell bottle is shaped like Trump Tower. Which is, in turn, shaped like what? You guessed right! Because somebody said the word "design," the segue is complete: the task is to design four new uniforms for the Embassy Suites hotel chain. Front Desk, Breakfast Cook, Suite Keeper, and Bellman, using provided designers, a studio, models, hair and makeup. Why the last three? Because the winner will be decided by a panel of regular old Embassy Suites employees based on a fashion show. This task is cool because it emulates what you'd be doing: oversight of a product that means both utility and brand representation, and dealing directly with employees. I like that.