Previously on The Surreal Life, Gary Coleman almost got fried; the cast made brownies and delivered them to their neighbors (including a lonely old man and a bitter old German woman); Vanilla Ice reminded us once again that he hates being reminded of his past, even though it made him millions; and Traci Bingham did everything within her power to scope out Ron Jeremy's wee-wee, to no avail.
It's daybreak as we see Erik Estrada and the Ice Man just kinda chillin' like Bob Dylan, y'know. Word to your mutha and all that early '90s crap. Erik asks the cameraman if he wants a treat, and then quickly flashes his wee-wee at him. Ice cracks up at this, as does Erik. Meanwhile, Tammy's reading her morning Bible verse, and the other two girls are upstairs trying to yank Ron's bedspread off his bed in order to check out his early-morning wood. Naturally, Ron won't let them see it, because he's shy and demure, and they didn't fork over $9.95 first. It must be nice when you have a penis that can qualify as a pay-per-view. After foiling their attempt at seeing his penis, Ron goes downstairs to give Erik a massage. So, in the first minute alone, we've seen one pixellated penis, one attempt at seeing another penis, and a man giving another man a massage. I'm puzzled as to why this isn't the #1-rated television show in San Francisco. Out in the den, Trishelle is checking her voicemail when she gets a most disturbing call from her ex-boyfriend John, who says he's "not doing good." Naturally, Trishelle understands this to mean that he's despondent and suicidal, when he could just as easily have meant that he was constipated. Trishelle frantically tries to call him back, and he doesn't answer his cell phone. This is so unlike him, because John always answers his cell phone. Traci pops in to assure Trishelle that if she doesn't get hold of John soon, it's gonna freak her out all day long. Trishelle agrees. The tension's so thin you could cut it with a spork as the drama begins to unfold like a tattered map.
The daily paper crashes through the front window as the cast learns that today's house guest is Psychic To The Stars Cheri Mancuso. Apparently, the guy who played Boss Hogg on The Dukes of Hazzardhad to cancel at the last minute. ["Due to death, but whatever." -- Wing Chun] Tammy Faye gives us a sample of the sarcastic wit she's known for when she says "We're going to have a séance! Oh I looove that!" She then rolls her eyes until a mascara-coated eyelash manages to get stuck in her eye socket, causing her to sob uncontrollably. Cheri gets to the house and immediately tells everyone she's part Indian. This news causes Trishelle to stiffen slightly, since she's reluctant to share her booze with the woman. Traci says she's open to having her fortune told, as is Erik. Tammy Faye says that the Bible states that mediums and psychics are just one step above used car salesmen, and that she should avoid them at all costs. Everyone looks bored as Cheri regales them with reams of her psychotic bullshit. Trishelle confesses that she was raised with the same values and morals as Tammy Faye, except for the whole "Get Drunk And Screw Anything With A Pulse" thing, and that she knows that getting her fortune told is a sin. A dirty stinkin' butt-numbing sin. And by God, if Tammy Faye ain't doin' it...Trishie ain't doin' it. Cheri asks Trishelle to go first, and she jumps up and follows Cheri to the bedroom for her reading like a lamb being led to the slaughter. So much for standing on her morals and values. Erik tells Ice that he may be a skeptic, but that he thinks Cheri will blow him out of the water. Ice says that if she blows him out of the water, Ice will blow Erik. This elicits a hearty chuckle from Tammy. I get the sinking feeling she has no idea what they're talking about.