Previously on The Surreal Life, the cast went on a camping trip where everyone began growing weary of Corey and the tales of his pitiful and pathetic existence. Other stuff happened, but the important thing to remember is that Corey Feldman is the center of the universe and it's imperative that we all recognize that, as members of the human race.
The credits roll; the producers have ditched the deejay opening that was used for the first two weeks of the series. It's been replaced with a computerized tour of the house that's peppered with dialogue from each of the stars. Corey's is first, and is the monologue that's bound to cause the most choking on soft drinks nationwide. He says, "I'm the most down-to-earth celebrity you'll ever meet." Apparently, he's got the phrase "down-to-earth" confused with the word "ignorant." It's understandable. I used to confuse the surname "Feldman" with "talent," so I'm not one to pass judgment here. Anyway, Gabby reiterates that she's nobody's mom, Brande says she likes to pretend she's married, but she has no husband, which is perfectly acceptable if you've recently been declared legally insane. Hammer's campfire pep talk to Corey about why celebrities should never complain accompanies his digital image. Jerri's says she's a roaring bitch. Webster says almost everything he does is fun, and slaps a high-pitched cackle onto the end of his statement. Vince says you either love him or hate him and that he's the biggest asshole in the world. I think what Vince meant to say is that Corey's the biggest asshole in the world. The credits finish with Webster saying that you may know "of" these celebrities, but you don't know them. I yell, "Thank God!" at my TV screen and take a long swig off my beer while chuckling quietly to myself at my witless little jab.
Commercials. Tell me something: what is up with this new Nike Shox commercial with the streaker running through a soccer game or whatever for like seven minutes? Is that not the longest commercial ever? You think it's over and then all of a sudden, here comes this chunky naked guy running out of the stands and back across your screen for another five minutes. Who comes up with these commercials? How painfully obvious is it that the marketing department at Nike sits and smokes massive amounts of crack and then discusses ideas for commercials? And how the hell do I get a job like that? I think I could sit there, toke on a crack pipe for eight hours, entertain thoughts about stealing my mama's TV for more crack money, and then finally say, "Let's have a naked guy run around in circles for about a half hour. That'll sell the shit outta some shoes." And then all my colleagues will pat me on the back and we can go back to smoking more crack.