Okay, the sight of Ozzy tipping over in his chair a couple weeks ago was the best thing ever on television. I said it, it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. But goddamn it, if this week doesn't feature something better. This show is annoyingly good. Sort of like cigarettes.
Day. The house. Oh, no. Sharon is cooking again. This time it's toast, and the whole kitchen is filled with smoke, the fire alarm ringing. (Last time it was Kelly with the kettle -- man, who knew English teatime was so fucking dangerous?) Kelly tries to help, suggesting laying something over it. It takes Ozzy a few minutes to notice the loud piercing noise, but he scowls and asks what's going on. Kelly asks what it is, and Sharon pulls a black piece of something out of the toaster and drops it in the sink, responding that it's "dinner."
By the way, I love that Sharon Osbourne is reportedly asking for a seven-figure sum to do the second season. There is no way MTV can say no -- she has them by the balls, which is probably the three hundred and fortieth set she's squozen in her business career. Good job, scary lady.
Maids carry food into the house to get ready for Thanksgiving dinner. The segment is called "Get Stuffed." Someone is wrapping Ozzy's ankle as he talks on the phone; it sounds like he's doing a phone interview. He explains (lies?) that he broke his leg above the shin bone by slipping in the shower. He says it's "so stupid."
Meanwhile, maids cook Thanksgiving dinner. Quiche. Asparagus.
Lola licks Ozzy's ankle as Ozzy says that it's very painful and that the doctors have told him to rest the leg. He goes on, cryptically, that he's human and he can only do what God has given him. Hmm? Quick shot of Lola eating. (Dog food, not Ozzy's leg.)
In quick motion, the maids make up the fancy-ass Thanksgiving table. Ozzy now camera-talks that he's on so much medication that he shouldn't be drinking alcohol, "period." We see Ozzy happily pouring a glass of wine. Uh-oh.
As Jack and a friend watch TV, Ozzy, suddenly smashed, stumbles in and asks Jack to take Lola on a walk. Now, Ozzy always stumbles and slurs his speech, so he must be fucked up for us to be able to tell. The sad thing is that at that moment, all over America, drunk dads were telling their TV-watching sons to walk the dog as well. Ozzy and crew: the assimilation is complete. Congratulations! (For some reason they tile out whatever Jack is watching on TV. Must be porn.) Jack, wearing a wife-beater, says that he'll do it, but Ozzy says he will take the dog on the walk. An unseen Kelly joins in with Jack, telling Ozzy he can't walk. Ozzy yells that he will take the dog on the walk, because if he doesn't, Jack will just keep "looking at the TV" and no one will. (Bullshit -- he just wants to do some drunk cruisin'. I feel you, Ozzy.) "I'll take the dog for the fucking walk," says Ozzy, and he starts looking around for the leash. Jack tells him that he's looking like an idiot and Kelly, probably referring to something we didn't see, tells Ozzy that whatever he said or did was rude; Ozzy, drunkenly putting the leash on the terrified Lola, mumbles that he's just Ozzy and he's just crazy. Hee. Ozzy pulls Lola outside; two of the other dogs, including Pip, watch, wondering why the hell they never get to go on drunken walks with Ozzy. Life is so unfair.