"$5000 is a lot of money for a drive to work," Tom notices. "It's chicken feed, man," says Tim, grossing me right out with his black bathrobe and greased-up Mob-connected hair. Tom lays down the law: they cannot speed. Why, would that be cheating? Wow, this should be awesome: "I have won $5000 driving in a kindly and defensive manner." Tim smarms that Tom hasn't won a bet against Tim since 1986. So dumb. In the parking garage, Tom lays down more rules: they'll both head down to Howard Hughes Parkway, and the race will begin there. Tim blows this off and says that the race will begin here and now, in this parking lot. I jerk awake but no, it's still happening. They get in their stupid penis cars and go driving really fast out of the parking garage. This is more than I ever wanted to know about Tim: the condo place where he lives has like a miniature Parthenon in front of it. How classy. How JC1K. The generic Hackers music starts, and Tom begins narrating the action for us, irritatingly. Oh, Casino. Can't you give us a freaking car chase without messing it up? Nope.
I'm going to tell you what Tom is saying because it's so dumb and he's so bizarre. I'm going to leave out the fake screeching, and the fact that for this spontaneous car chase there are about fifteen cameras mounted on each car, although they are somehow invisible when you see the cars from the outside, because like everything else this is totally fake. Oh, and additionally? It's hard to tell the majority of the time which car is which, because half of the cars in Vegas are shiny and black, like Tim's, and the other half are shiny and white or silver, like Tom's. So: "There he is. He's right up there. He's driving like a maniac. I am right behind him. Go ahead, [expletive], all the [expletive] you want! I am right up your ass! You're going to make the wrong turn. Don't go crazy now. He just ran the fucking light. Dammit. He is insane. He's crazy. Back in action! I got him! Hoo hoo hoo! Where is he? There he is. Shoot. Son of a...fine! You wanna play that way? Hold on, tires! I bet he was going to go Charleston. He's going to go the wrong way. I'm going the Downtown exit. I got him. Come on! One more block!" Isn't that exciting? It's like you're right there. I don't want to dwell on this, like, at all, but can you imagine what it must be like to sleep with this guy? "Hold on, tires!" Christ.
Tim beats him -- to the valet station, which I still don't believe, that the entire workforce of the Nugget uses valet everyday, because that's like thousands of people -- and laughs dirtily and gloats and it's lame. Because any time you are around Tom you have a 2d6+4 chance of going insane, the next part of their conversation takes place with a bellhop pushing Tom around on a luggage cart, with no explanation. He looks like he's having fun, though. Like, a weird amount of fun. Maybe he's pretending to be a hatbox or a really big suitcase. Tim gleefully points to the driveway: "See my skid marks, Tom?" So scary, the emotional maturity going on here. The Tim and Tom Connection have really let us in on the level of their lameness in this episode. There's no going back. We totally just watched them race each other to work. Who has time for this? Some producer is like, "Tim, now you bug him for the money. Like, incessantly." So he does, and it sucks. He's not imaginative when he's playing himself, so he just keeps repeating, "You gotta give me that money" and "I'll take my money now" and it's maybe the most irritating thing in the world. Tim stops and is all over young Dealer Tommy about missing their meeting last night, apologizes profusely, and clasps him rapidly all over his body in order to underscore how important it is that he reschedule the meeting with Tommy. He grabs Tommy's shoulders, his hands, his elbows. He grabs Tommy's elbows. Even Tom grabs Tommy a little bit. The Tim and Tom Connection run off because they have a lot of work to do -- they came in at 10:00 AM!
Out in the desert, we see a red Porsche growling out "I am a performance vehicle" on its way to Vegas. In the Porsche are two ladies, and they are "on a mission." One of them, Eulisha, looks like Li'l Kim before that egregious Wildenstein shit started happening to her face. Have you seen her lately? It's amazing. Anyway, before she started turning into America's Next Top Michael Jackson, she had lovely plump cheeks, pretty lips, and beautiful dark skin. Now she looks like Glomer from the Punky Brewster cartoon. So Eulisha looks -- and dresses! -- like Li'l Kim used to, but much bigger. She's pretty. She's wearing some quite natural bright pink fur or mohair. It works. Even her voice is like Li'l Kim's. Well, before -- now she just bleeps and belches occasionally. I think that Li'l Kim and Anna Nicole have some kind of Courtney Cox/Matthew Perry thing going on where one of them looks like a freak at all times to preserve the balance and the Circle of Life. Eulisha's friend Joan, who doesn't matter at all, is dressed more conservatively. The two of them are yelling at each other about how they're going to "do Vegas real big" and they're "not there to make a deposit," but to "make a withdrawal, okaaay?" Memo from Mark Burnett: Sassy black women do exist, and they are awesome! We get it. Put a sassy fist in the air, my sassy sisters! Mark Burnett would like to apologize for that grinding that time. So the thing they do every week where they freeze-frame the person's face to show their name and stuff -- like on Queer Eye, only less flattering -- catches Eulisha in a mad laugh, and under her name it says "Playing For Her Porsche" as she tells us she's coming to Vegas to pay off her "Carrera." Which is a good goal, although I'm not sure gambling, much like wishing upon a star, is the best way to make your dreams come true. Which actually could be the moral of this week's episode. It's a small world, after all. She addresses her car by the creative name "Porschina" and pats the dash sweetly. Eulisha tells us that the "monthly" is killing her, and then she and Joan sing a little song where you spell the word "money" and dance around in their car seats. They scream and scream about Vegas and are more excited to be going to Las Vegas than anyone I've ever seen.