Big shout-out to the one they call "Kinky Sherwood."
Paige is in Ashburn, Virgina, home to the Washington Redskins football team and also, apparently, a land of full of those hokey twisty subdivision streets. Paige is holding a football which she uses to point in the air as she speaks; Paige does not have anything else pointing emphatically today, thank God. "Our homeowners are huge fans of football!" she chirps, "but can they tackle our designer's redecorating playbooks, or will they be on the defensive end when these two days are over?!" Paige tosses the ball. She throws like a girl who was born a girl but then got two rounds of gender-reassignment treatment to become a girly-man and back again just so she could throw even more like a girl than biologically possible.
The design team clowns around on the Redskins practice field. Paige voice-overs: "Designer Kia Steve-Dickerson gets the play call from carpenter quarterback Ty Pennington, while designer Hildi Santo-Tomas lines up on defense to show them how the game is played!" I quote this so I don't have to describe to you what they're doing and how stupid they look. I suppose I must report that Kia waggles her butt disturbingly while she waits to snap the ball behind her to Ty. And I'm thinking it's a little late for Ty to start wearing a helmet now.
Paige pokes the football at us threateningly: "With only a thousand-dollar budget, I don't want to see any unnecessary roughness! And for that matter, with only two days, I don't want to see any overtime!" She begins to walk off but stops and giggles. "Are we playing football or Trading Spaces?" Giggle! Well, Paige, in football, the Super Bowl is a game, whereas on Trading Spaces, it's that thing Ty lets you smoke from sometimes. And you just did, didn't you?
We meet the homeowners: "Brad and Rachel have such busy careers that they're hoping for a bedroom that offers a little peace!" Which is a nice way of saying, "They need a booty lair. Bad." The room has white walls, beige carpet, and is decorated in typical Overwhelmed By Grandiose New Suburban House style -- the torchiere lamp shyly stuck in one corner, the tiny plant stand cowering in another, the sad little underscaled outposts of décor amidst this huge bleak tundra of a room. Brad and Rachel do have a nice sleigh bed, though. Let's hope, for future's sake, that they sometimes like to pretend it's Santa's sleigh, flying through the air. Rachel says, "I would like a place that's serene and relaxing, with very few distractions." Uh, they've got the "no distractions" part down so far. She goes on: "I like to read in here...we like to, uh, have fun and hang out in our bedroom, alone!" Brad laughs like, "Heh. We have sex. Heh." Brad says he doesn't like "pink, peaches, pastels, anything like that...flowers, frou-frou-y colors, anything like that." Nope; no gender subversion for Brad, here, no siree. Rachel thinks wallpaper would be "a travesty." "I'm a little worried about getting a theme room," she says. "Because we're not theme people," adds Brad. "We're not theme people!" repeats Rachel, shuddering. Okay, we get it: they are not theme people! Whatever that means. Disney World is their kryptonite. Don't hum "I'll Be There For You" around them.