Show time! For some reason, the editors think the best background music for this moment is "Jungle Fever." Yeah, I don't know what's up with that either. Anyway, people start pouring into the club. Dom hits on a chick at the bar before ambling up to the mic to kick out the jams.

Jon tells us that he's looking forward to performing, and he's only a little bit nervous.

Jon's up first. His roommates cheer for him as he walks onstage. And then he sings. How does one recap singing? Jon sings. There is singing. Singing happens. At any rate, the audience enjoys his performance, and all the roommates tell the camera that Jon is very talented and has a real stage presence, and if there's someone -- anyone -- in the audience who would possibly want to hire him for anything at any time, they ought to immediately contact the Bunim/Murray offices. Glenn muses that it's nice to hear Jon perform onstage, since he's used to just hearing him sing in the shower. I know my roommates used to feel the same way about me; they kept telling me that I ought to take my renditions of "...Baby, One More Time" and "I Want It That Way" and hit the road!

Tami compliments Jon backstage. She tells the camera that she's "a ball of nervous energy." Then some dude wearing a baseball cap walks over and tells Reaaaaalitee to "work it" out there on the stage.

Dom introduces Stick Kitty, the band he manages. People clap anemically. The lead singer -- a pale, shirtless guy with long greasy hair -- wails about hell getting hotter and wishing he was God, and putting his trust in, like, the land, or something. Whatever. Personally, I prefer my musical performances complete with hot dancing boys.

In an interview, Glenn tells us that the lead singer of Stick Kitty really "feels the music" and is "authentic about his performance." Because if Glenn is anything, he's an experienced and knowledgeable music critic.

Backstage, Tami's still nervous. Finally, Dom introduces "Reeeeeeeeeee-allll-ittttty!" The girls hustle out onto the makeshift stage and do their thing. They're not completely terrible -- sort of a poor man's En Vogue, complete with extremely complex but inadequately executed dance moves. Tami tells us that she was happy not to embarrass herself, and then undoes all that hard work: "When I say 'Reality,' you say 'check'! Reality!" she shouts. "Check!" the audience mutters. This "Reality!" "Check!" call and response thing continues for several minutes, humiliating us all. Ree-Alit-Tee then moves into a more fast-paced number, whipping off their skirts to reveal tight black hot pants. The crowd, always responsive to short shorts, stands up and starts clapping. Tami eventually jumps off the stage and starts working the crowd.