Previously on The Surreal Life, Webster cackled, Jerri was roundly dissed by the group, half the cast ate sushi off a naked woman, and Corey asked his girlfriend Susie to marry him in a wedding that the whole world will watch. You know...unless Fox happens to rerun the latest episode of Joe Millionaire directly opposite it. If that's the case, even Corey's deadbeat parents won't be watching from their trailer in Waukegan.
The show starts, and it's those same annoying deejays from last week talking about the show. In fact, it's exactly the same conversation we heard last week. I may not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I eventually put two and two together and realize that this deejay banter actually serves as this show's theme song. This is a grave injustice in my eyes, because I believe the show should have an actual theme song. So I took it upon myself to co-write a theme song for the show with Rick Springfield. It will appear on my upcoming album, Former Child Pantspisser. It's called "The Surreal Life Ain't No Life For Me" and goes a little something like this: "Ohhh, The Surreal Life, it ain't boring/ As long as they got Corey/ And footage of Webster snoring/ The Surreal Li-hi-hi-hi-hi-hiiiiiife!"
That's it, really. It needs work, I know. Then again, Rick Springfield was amped higher than a Mexican drug lord and we had to call an end to our writing collaboration about three minutes into it.
A commercial for thetruth.com comes on. I'm guessing that the same fartfaces that came up with PeTA are behind this hyperbolic bullshit. It's bad to smoke. We get it. There's no need to fill up a port-a-potty full of corpses and then dump it in the middle of Times Square to get your point across. That kinda shit just freaks my grandma out and she has a weak heart. Now she's scared to go out in public because she's afraid one of you Truth morons is going to throw my dead grandfather at her from a passing garbage truck while she's walking down the street. Thanks, you insensitive non-smoking bastards.
Back to the show. All the cast members are rising and shining. Corey's outside smoking like a fiend. I'm faced with the dilemma of having to choose between watching a smoking Corey or a self-righteous thetruth.com jackoff. I'm pretty sure I could handle The Truth in that situation. Webster's brushing his teeth and cackling while he does it, forcing trails of toothpaste-colored saliva to careen down his chubby face, making him look like the world's homeliest porn star. Vince feeds the fish and Mercedes the dog sifts through the trash, trying to find a portal that will take her into John Malkovich's brain. Anywhere but here. You actually begin to feel pity for the dog. It's not like she signed a contract to live in a house with Corey Feldman for ten days. Why should she be punished?