Real World
Costume Party Poopers

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I'm Not Gay, But My Costume Is

Props to Potes for the primer, and to Little Hills for overall adventures in freakocity.

Previously on The Real World: I've seen all of this season's episodes in preparation for this recap, but I've kind of seen them out of order. So, I think that previously on The Real World: that creepy guy Marc climbed into every bed in Vegas trying to pinch an inch that isn't his own, and then in the next episode the roommates got a job working for a creepy guy named Marc who seemed like he might one day be up to no good. How am I doing so far?

We join Vegas already in progress, as a montage of lights, hotels, casinos, and a general sense of Cher-impersonating trashy glamour pervade the hallowed Strip. We cut inside to the elevator at the Palms to discover trashiness of a whole different pedigree -- in the form of Trashelle herself -- as she consults the mirror and tells Brynn, "I love that color." Brynn -- decked out in a silver tank top that makes her look like she's about to bust into a rousing chorus of "Nothing Ever Happens on Mars" -- nods in an I'm-ignoring-you kind of way. God, that silver is all wrong. Brynn looks like she's from The Future. In a confessional, Brynn tells us, assumedly without irony, "I don't know that I really could be Trishelle's friend because I'm so jealous of her." Yes, Brynn, I can see how Trashelle's as-high-as-the-floor-they're-passing-IQ and her generally duck-like physical composition have driven so many women to Iago-esque bouts of crippling jealousy. The elevator continues its distracting EKG beeping as the floors tick up, and we're dumped out inside Ghostbar, where Trashelle quickly starts scoping out the menfolk and Brynn stands astride, tuning her second fiddle and looking generally unloved. And like the animal she is, Trashelle follows the scent to her first man of the night. And, as is so often the case with the men she seems to flock to, the scent she follows is that of Drakkar Noir.

Brynn's confessional continues on that "Trishelle has a really nice body. She has huge boobs." As if to put way too fine a point on Brynn's observation, PornoCam turns its gaze on Trashelle leaning way far over, because the general viewing audience of this show had never read What Are Boobs? An Owner's Manual or seen its illustrations cleverly marked "Figure 1-1: Huge Boobs." Thank you for the invaluable refresher course, PornoCam operator guy. Brynn's jealousy rages on, as she continues, "She's very sweet and cute and guys flocks to her." Trashelle, meanwhile, throws her split ends all a-flutter as she wails to Drakkar Noir, "Oh, I love Jack Johnson!" And who doesn't, really? Certainly not someone who needs to get laid to feel her inner worth who has just been asked the question, "Can I validate your damaged self-esteem by letting you tell me you love Jack Johnson?" Drakkar Noir asks Trashelle, "You wanna go with us?" The booze adds an extra four syllables to Trashelle's emphatic, "Yes!" Oh, my God. Jack Johnson doesn't get that excited about seeing Jack Johnson.

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