This episode begins with numerous establishing shots of cars covered in snow, streets covered in snow, and a leather-clad Jason and Genesis standing outside of the firehouse swathed in the USDA maximum daily allowance of faux-detached pouty self-righteousness. Multiple packs into what seems to be the waning hours of an all-night nicotine binge, the smoke from their cigarettes becomes so dense it actually begins to seep through my television's speakers and form a thick, choking cloud inside of my own room, obscuring my view of the screen and ironically causing me to miss the first four billion commercials for thetruth.com, which for some reason sees fit to advertise during this carcinogenic marathon. But on the positive side, no more choc full o' Amaya promos for New Orleans! Over in a confessional, Genesis admits that she feels "like an extreme outsider," worrying that even new friend Jason is fitting in with the rest of the house better than she is. Staring reproachfully out of the upstairs window, Elka has apparently decided to let her own lungs be filled with the cleansing breath of devout Catholicism as she becomes addicted to that daddy-sanctioned vice of Our Lord, all the while informing us that she "was bothered by Jason and Genesis's clique that they had already made. They had already found someone, and so I still needed to test the waters with the rest of the housemates before I would have decided to become a friend." There's some righteous in-good-faith rhetoric for you, Elka. And if I've said it once, I've said it -- well, twice maybe -- if you don't lose the aqua grandma sweater from the one confessional we've seen you in so far, I find it mondo-difficult to believe that the rest of your shallow, House of Style-bred roommates wouldn't find reason to keep you socially alienated based solely on the tacky un-fashion show you parade around in. Oh, and also because you hate people who are black or gay. See, 'cause that right there could act as a bit of a social inhibitor as well. I'm just sayin'.
From the first landing of the firehouse's entry stairway, Kameelah cues the synthetic-ska-raggae-hybrid-moving-in-montage with that trademark call of the liberated feminist, "I say all the men start bringing the luggage upstairs." In one of the final sequences in which Syrus appears in multiple shots of the same episode, actually in the house, actually with his pants on, he tells Kameelah that it's "no problem, honey," and begins to collect her bags. So everything is going smashingly then, eh? EH? No, siree, there is nothing "eh" about it. For as goddammed ironic as it is for the peace on earth of the Boston house to be disrupted by the looming specter of religious intolerance, Elka's general house inquiry "Is anybody Catholic?" is met with an icy, almost satanic indifference. By everyone, that is, except for Sean, who agrees that they can start going to church together "next weekend." Cut to about fifty disparate shots of Montana looking alarmed, perhaps worried that the subtle editing of this sequence would not alert the stable of idiots MTV must think watches this show to her "God cursed me with these bangs, and so I react with indignant atheistic fervor" foreshadowing. In other news, Syrus has forgotten to bring hangers. In another room, the producers slip Kameelah a twenty to comment on all the cool stuff in the house so the Urban Outfitters housewares department doesn't sue for product-placement breach of contract. Downstairs, the beleaguered Polaroid is dragged out anew to record this unique moving in moment, and Sean takes numerous pictures of the rest of the house in poses ranging from wacky to significantly more wacky. All of which will allow for each member of the house to closely examine said photographs long after their tenure in Boston has ended and marvel, "Wait, this experience wasn't so bad after all. Oh, wait, Sean. He was taking the picture. I had almost forgotten about Sean."