Back at the firehouse once more, Montana finds a woman named "Andrea," the volunteer coordinator at a project called Shelter, Inc. In a confessional, Montana celebrates, "I really felt like this is something I could definitely do, and I just got a really good feeling about it." Back on the phone, Andrea tells her to come in and see if it's a place Montana would like to work. Montana thinks that's "great." Shut up, Montana. Where's Jeffrey with that giant jug with the three "X's" across it? I gotta follow me the scent back to the good stink of moonshine.
Man's ultimate triumph over log culminates in front of a nondescript square brick building (is there some aesthetic ordinance which stipulates Anthony is not allowed to enter a building that doesn't fall under the umbrella of nondescript, square, and brick?), as the pick-up truck pulls up. Anthony is now on board to help unload the log, and the assemblage carries it down a long hallway and into an indoor pool that looks appears to be a far more exciting after-school option than a half-empty box of Jenga pieces and a rousing Syrus-organized game of "Guess Mommy's Bra Size And Phone Number." Also a pretty good deterrent from turning back to the ol' sauce. Eh, Jeffrey? The log is suddenly in the pool and the kids are suddenly there and Sean is suddenly shirtless in a manner far more detrimental to my projected future mental health than countless pulls off Jeffrey's Jug could ever hope to be (I'll do an Extra on that one day and report back. The things I do for the love of my work). Anthony attempts to look on approvingly at the sudden interest his volunteers are taking in the children, but this slippery hunk of lumber in a cement pool has him gazing in horror, like maybe a little drop of alcohol wouldn't be the bigger insurance liability after all. But no matter. Sean is suddenly mid-demonstration, showing the kids that they have to be super-careful because there's nowhere to hold on (what about those big-ass handles right there? Oh, sorry. Those are just Sean's love handles and oh ha ha ha because really I'm so perfect) and that they have to maintain balance at all times. Sean's voice-over really speaks for his character on the whole: "I see the excitement of these kids, standing on a log." Sure, it's funny now. But y'all wait until Jesse Ventura becomes President and the Super Bowl is cancelled in lieu of this revisionist national pastime. These kids love it. Minnesota: don't let it happen to you.
Stock Footage Homeless Guy pushes his Metaphorical Cart Of Sorrows And Recycling, acting all the gatekeeper for the baaaaaad part of town as Montana walks up to the front door of yet another nondescript house (at least they're being careful not to glamorize the volunteering experience), informing us in voice-over, "Shelter, Inc. is a house that has about sixteen homeless people staying there, basically trying to get their lives back on track." Oh, cool. It's like an impoverished version of Survivor. But without Probst. A parting gift for which I would take the very same vow of poverty, by the way. Inside, we meet an "Andrea," who is introduced via The Squiggly Hip Font Of Character Introduction as "Volunteer Coordinator," who tells Montana, "Shelter, Inc. was started in the '70s by volunteers." Montana listens with that dewy-eyed glaze of contractually obligated do-goodism, musing all idealistically that this place is going to work out perfectly, all, "The '70s! They wanted to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony!" She reports that she thinks Andrea is "super-cool." Cue quick tour of the environs, a house that actually looks like a slightly downtrodden version of the house they're going to end up using when The Real World makes it to its ninetieth season and the producers have no choice but to resort to Real World South Hoboken because all of the cool cities (and Boston!) have already been used and destroyed. Montana tells Andrea that she's "very excited," and she hopes they can work together. Andrea is the first person I've seen since Stock Footage Homeless Guy who deals with people in a way that makes it obvious she doesn't give a crap she's on television. I like Andrea. Which, if I'm not mistaken, is what I said about a certain non-poor Anthony I might take the time to mention here.