Tennis, Everyone?

Episode Report Card
Djb: D+ | Grade It Now!
Seventy-Minute Man

Thanks, Glark!

It's some kind of ambiguously early time in the living room of Looking For A Man-To-Lay Bay when the disembodied voice of Chris "The Original Mr. Personality" Harrison calls up the stairs, "Ladies, good morning. If you'll come join me in the living room, please." Thinking perhaps that they heard him add, "Today we'll be auditioning for promotions to the B-list, and the Access Hollywood van just this second pulled up!," the remaining contestants appear from all corners of the house, batting each other out of the way and swarming like a kicked nest of that stinging, venomous, wilds-dwelling insect known as "bitchy twenty-two-year-olds on TV." Congregating on the increasingly vacant couches which, just weeks before, were occupied by so many more vacant minds, the women listen raptly as Chris once more spells out the rules of there-will-never-be-an-engagement: "This week, all of you will go on dates with Andrew. There's one group date and three intimate one-on-one dates." But to absolve Andrew of having to incur any anger from the ladies -- besides the fact that he does not belong to the religious sect that allows men to start making adult decisions for themselves at his tender age of thirteen -- Chris further explains, "Prior to the show, you all took personality analysis [sic]. So did Andrew. This test was scientifically designed to determine which of your personalities best fit Andrew's." Wow. Dig the copywriting gravitas of "scientifically designed." Like each of the women was strapped to a computer that read their auras and spit out a sheet of paper filled with lines of binary code while the machine makes that authoritative "computer functioning" sound effect like the Jeopardy! categories falling into place. More likely, I'm willing to bet that the "personality tests" to which Chris refers took the form of a sheet of lined paper from your ninth-grade math notebook folded into that fortune-telling device you operate with both of your thumbs and forefingers, so that the date boxes can arrive at the house with really explanatory notes reading, "The good news is that you get an intimate, one-on-one date with Andrew. The bad news? You, like, totally have cooties." Next time they should go with "MASH" notes instead; they're far more accurate and they don't require all of that pain-in-the-ass folding no one ever knows how to do.

"Of course," Chris noodles on like this is improvisational jazz and his instrument is SHUT UP, "You should know me well enough by now to know that I do know the results. And I'm not going to tell you." They know him well enough by now? Have they seen his own MASH results? Using my context clues, I'll guess he was lucky enough to have landed on "mansion."

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