We're treated to a trash hygiene montage and our first useful close-ups of the Heap, sans sunglasses: mysteriously silent brown-haired guy brushing his teeth, Brother Bryan taking off his shirt for the shower ["AAAACK!" -- Sars] and revealing, you guessed it, a big tattoo in the middle of his back, those two-inch French manicures applying a few more coats of lipstick, and Kristin looking at herself through those -- yep, I called it -- weird-striped bangs. Geoff zips her up in a real pretty dress, then puts on some kind of swing dancing attire. And you know how I feel about that shit. Are they going to start calling each other "money" now? Because that's a problem too, although I don't guess people still do that. These guys would, I bet. Brother Bryan's not half bad-looking, like I thought, although in addition to the tattoo and the bleached blonde spikes, he's also working about sixteen earrings. There are wads -- wads -- of cash lying all over the place. Like with those paper bands around them. This is not something I have witnessed before, those big wads. I thought they were only in shitty movies, like Analyze That. God, I wish I were watching Analyze That right now. I can't believe I just said that, and it's even true.
So -- while they're getting dressed in the worst stuff you can think of -- I have to tell you what happened about three minutes after last week's recap went live. Remember Jason the Fratpack Ringleader from last week, the guy I called "scary" and a "gang rapist" and "damnable" and "sucky" and a "brainless, drunken, horny, weird idiot" and a "sexual bully" and a "dick"? He totally sent me this really sweet email about how much he loved the recap. He also said that (first on the list, of course) "Rob is still a virgin," his "friends are still friends," "Tim and Tom are still the owners," "the Casino is still in business," and he's been drinking less. Which I think is just great. He also said that he was one of the forty finalists for The Apprentice. I'm hoping we become pen pals.
Anyway, so Kristin crams more money than I've ever been in a building with, including, like, a bank into her ugly little Louis Vuitton purse and Geoff crams actual fistfuls of dollars into all his pockets, including the "waist" pockets of a ZEBRA-STRIPED SPORT JACKET that he put on apparently while I was telling you about Jason. ["In case you didn't watch -- it was actually thigh-length. So it's more like a waistcoat, and therefore ten times more cheesy and wrong." -- Sars] Kristin, so not getting it, yells that he "cain't have" wads of cash "hanging out" of his zebra-striped sport coat like that, "hon," and he blows her off, "babe," and she yells, "No you cain't, hon!" so loudly that the mic actually can't take it and buzzes a little. Which is awesome, because they hate each other, but are dating because she's got big tits and because he's got all this money, and she still can't figure out why a person in a zebra-striped sport coat would actually want people to see huge wads of cash hanging out of his pockets. Didn't your pimp teach you anything, Kristin? There's no point in having money if you can't overspend it as extravagantly as possible, and make sure as many people as possible in the vicinity at all times know how much your ugly gear cost, to distract people from noticing that you are overweight trash in a zebra-striped sport coat. This is called conspicuous consumption, or "Blinding by Bling," and it's what Vegas, and weddings, and your fucking Louis Vuitton SMU sorority girl purse (about the price of which, my dear, you are not only about to scream but also to fucking lie, to the entire Golden Nugget casino, not to mention a 3.85/6 share of the U.S. TV viewing audience) are all about.