Cue shot of a snowplow not able to bulldoze through the drifts of crap that have buried this episode in its craptastic wrath and caused the widespread closure of area schools. Elka, Kameelah, and Montana freeze their way to the supermarket. They shop. Predictably, the action is riveting. Over at the checkout line, though, some action may be stirring up indeed. Kameelah tells us in an intercut confessional that she has "a hard time meeting guys," only to shoot us right back to the supermarket, where Kameelah spots a man who fits at least her repeatedly stated initial criteria of being dark-skinned, ostensibly over 190 pounds, and bald. So she goes marching right up to him because she's not a brave, liberated woman but she plays one on TV, and asks him his name, his age, and where he lives. The poor kid looks terrified. His name is Eric, he's nineteen, he lives ten minutes outside of Boston. And just as it seems Kameelah is well on her way to Big Bucks in her brave and impromptu game of relationship Press Your Luck, she pops the pivotal "got a girlfriend" question, and receives the soul-crushing "Yeah, why?" No whammies, no whammies, no whammies, stop! Drat. A whammy. Please place your dwindling stash of pride on the produce scale and proceed to the checkout line. Walking out of the supermarket, Kameelah informs Elka and Montana of her experience with poor, unsuspecting Eric, incredulous that this total stranger would dare to go and have a girlfriend right in front of her. How dare he. Shut up, Kameelah. Whammy. Stop.
Later that evening, a generic local tavern is packed to the gills with gawking BU students who heard that the Real World cast was there drinking. Montana enjoys a giant, frothy Foreshadow brand beer in telling Sean that her boyfriend "isn't real jealous." She continues that "it's hard for [her] when no one's there, you know what I mean?" No. She also expresses a desire to "go live in the rain forest, man. I want to go take my clothes off, and wear a little belt made of beads, and live among the Yanomano." And truth be told, I don't have a clue what that means, either. But between a naked Montana, a smelly Vaj, and an in-heat Sean, my appetite stays lost, my cupboards stay full, and my food budget stays way, way down. And if I have to find satisfaction in something this week, that's pretty much all I'm currently able to conjure. Anyway, Sean manipulates Montana's vulnerable, soul-bearing confessions of loneliness and manipulates them for his own misguided (read: drunken) amorous needs. Pretending to be anything but the mouth-breathing, lecherous primate he so obviously is, he encourages Montana to "experience other guys. And I think that, because you've had that feeling, you should do it. Because if you don't, you're gonna regret doing it if possibly you could." Sean tells us in a confessional that "once you get to know Montana, she becomes more attractive." The gone-but-not-forgotten Syrus (no, actually, completely forgotten), who randomly turns up in a confessional, all decked out like he's spent his last three AWOL weeks searching for the right Beau Brummel bowler's cap for his full-scale tap dancing rendition of "Puttin' on the Ritz," thinks himself the authority in informing us, "If two people hook up in our house, it's gonna be them two." He continues, "You can only flirt with a person so much." Which, for someone whose entire idea of foreplay includes the exchange, "My name is Syrus. Nice trailer park you've got here," doesn't ring with the greatest modicum of integrity. General flesh-crawling flirting ensues.