Okay, so this is the part where we hear about David's tragic childhood, and why it led to his taking such exemplary care of his clothing today. Yes, that's right. Although this sad tale is accompanied by shots of David being unable to operate an iron, making it look as though he has really never devoted much time to sartorial upkeep, he tells us that his family was poor, and that his mother used to have to dumpster dive to get clothing for him, and now that he can have nice things, he likes to take good care of them. My only comment is that maybe he ought instead to tell stories on national television not about how his mother embarrassed him by digging in other people's trash to put clothes on his back, but, perhaps, instead, about how she somehow managed to raise him with dignity despite the confines of poverty, and how he hopes to be a credit to her remarkable efforts to keep him clothed and fed, and loved. But that would be classy. And this is The Real World. And The Real World is like school on Sunday.

Jon calls his Dad, who is angry that Jon called while "Garth is singing the National Anthem." Hee, for the third time. Irene tells us that Jon makes her laugh, and that she likes and respects him. In her interview, her hair is like...there are no words. Really. It's like...long. Really long. And really frizzy. And there's...just...so much of it. It's...everywhere. It's....unspeakable. It makes my head hurt.

Irene is cleaning her gun on her bed, while Jon watches. He fiddles with her flashlight. He goofs with her handcuffs. He plays with her holster. That sounds dirty, but I mean it literally. He breaks it, and she's mildly annoyed. I'd just like to say that having a loaded gun in that household is a dangerous, dangerous thing. I truly cannot believe that no one was shot.

Irene tells us that she's having a hard time living without Tim, her fiancé, but that she goes into the confessional booth and cries it out. In the confessional, Irene weeps that she'll be okay, and that being away from Tim will make marrying him that much more exciting. This is followed by what looks like an sensual massage instructional video, as some Sade-esque tune chortles in the background, and Irene rubs oil all over a shirtless Tim. I wish to God I was making that up. Sadly, I am not.