Meet Bridezilla Yovanna. Her real name is Gail. She’s batshit.

Rick says he liked Yovanna because of her fat ass. Yovanna says she was drawn to him because she thought he had money. She slaps him in the face when she catches him checking out some fine ass on Miami Beach. Ass man to tha core.

Anyway, it becomes apparent just seconds into this week’s program that she is unbearable. Moneygrubba who lords over kin and others because the guy to whom she was drawn because he had money had money.

At the cake tasting, Yovanna notes that she’s opted to invite an additional 25-ish people, so the cake order has to increase accordingly.

“I’m worth every last penny,” she says. “Now we’re spending over the budget.”

A $250K budget.

Classy.

So, it’s a destination wedding. Star Island. Which is in Miami and if they’re from Miami, it’s not really a destination wedding at all. And there’s helicopter involvement. And increased rental fees when the property owner hears just how big this event is going to be.

There’s a blowup with the bridesmaid. It involves the Gail/Yovanna split personality. It also involves the Yovanna personality telling bridesmaid Natalie that she should be honored to be involved. When she requests out, she’s told that she will be dragged down the aisle as a bridesmaid.

We’ll see in the next episode, I suppose.

Nice to see Bridezilla Evelina back again, as well. See:

She stands as a testament to the argument that attractive people can get away with behaving in any fashion they please without fear of repercussions.

This applies to when she calls her reverend and rips on him when he’s 30 minutes late for a meeting at the coffee shop. She gave him the wrong address, but doesn’t want to hear it. He should have been there anyway. Rather than talking about the wedding upon his arrival, she prefers to demand an apology repeatedly and angrily.

From there, it’s onto Erika the bridesmaid, who apparently isn’t living up to expectations. Bridesmaid Michelle is more than happy to cuntily throw her under the bus, as well. Erika notes that she has to always “walk on egg shells” around Evelina. She also notes that the reason she wasn’t around for a previous bridesmaid meeting because a friend died. Evelina ain’t caring at all, though. She’s still alive, right? She’s OUT.

“I am extremely relieved not to be a bridesmaid anymore,” says Erika, with a modicum of sanity not before seen in hot bride’s proximity.

She then selects Cyndle as a bridesmaid replacement. The first time they meet.

From there, it’s time for Evelina to “completely eviscerate” bridesmaids’ self esteem. To do this, she uses words and a notebook upon which she scores their attractiveness.

L-R Cyndle, Brooke, Michelle

Michelle is a 4. Her hair and lack of makeup were no-nos.

Brooke is a 5. She needs to work on her body. This, despite looking as if she’s skinny-gal runway-ready in a black cocktail dress.

Cyndle is a 2.5 because she didn’t come to their meeting knowing that one should look their best at all times.

“Oh my gosh, I had so much fun rating them,” she says. “It was hilarious. I would do it again if I could.”

Which brings us to rating Evelina. Outside: 8.5. Inside: 1.49. Cumulative: 4.9. So, rounded down, she’s no better than her best bridesmaid. Take that, lady.

“Beautiful girls always get VIP treatment,” she says, burning through shoots with piercing cheers at the bachelorette party. There, she apologizes to gay makeup artists who she kicked out last episode.

So, she then shows up at Levi’s bachelor party. Sees him dancing and making it rain at a non-strip-club. “She should get used to that. This is how I am,” he says, noting that he regularly dances and throws money around.

She storms off, feeling betrayed and unsure whether she will, in fact, get married tomorrow. She says he ruined her night despite the fact that 1) she ambushed him and 2) there were no strippers within eyeshot at Levi’s event.

Morning of the wedding: DJ cancels at 6 a.m. (When they cut away, the stylist is cracking up in a karma’s-a-bitch sense).

“You look like a Barbie,” says Levi upon the completion of hair-and-makeup session.

This was a compliment. This was intended. She wanted to look like a Barbie doll for her wedding. And, she does. For a wedding held in her friend’s backyard. An event before which her wedding band gets lost and later found on the bathroom floor. Setting as a perfect analogy for a life ahead. They’ll always have “Evelina was hot at 22,” though.

Bridezilla Aleshia, a hill person, is described as toxic and intolerable within the opening minute of the show. She says she never feels the need to apologize for anything ever.

She’s marrying self-described “softie” Brandon. They started dating five months ago. They got engaged four months and two weeks ago.

Horrible life decisions in Wilder, Ky. are what makes the WeTV world go ’round, though.

Aleshia points out that he was acting like a baby because he went to the hospital for an asthma attack. She sees this as further proof that Brandon’s mother is trying to ruin the wedding. In which case, Brandon’s mother is trying to ruin a wedding that no sane person would say should occur.

They get into a fight.

This is how Brandon reacts to that fight:

YES, HE WENT AND CRIED IN THE BUSHES OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT COMPLEX AFTER A SPAT WITH HIS BRIDE-TO-BE. BRO. WHAT IN THE EVERLIVING FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?

My 3-year-old son just looked up from building Thomas tracks on the living-room floor and asked me what was going on on the TV. He heard Brandon crying. I explained the situation and then asked him whether a grown man should ever sit in the bushes crying after a spat with a ladyfriend. He said, “No.”

Sloppy, shot-slugging, threatening-to-hit-mom-in-law-to-be W.T. Aleshia seems egged on by the attention foisted upon her and her “kiddie rollercoaster” relationship by Bridezillas. This manifests itself in demanding Brandon serenade her from the karaoke stage. He sings “Aleshia, you’re my queen, I love you…” as she tells everybody in the strip-mall bar to pay attention because she’s Aleshia and there’s a guy serenading her.

Goodness gracious, she is just about as annoying as it gets.

There’s a guy named Jesus or something that breaks a glass when they’re making centerpieces and hillpersonlady flips out, as she seems to do with shocking regularity.

Some sort of drama ensues via text message three days before the wedding, as she’s getting mic’d up. My guess was that Brandon prefers the company of men. Turns out some friend thinks he was out with “that bitch” last Friday. When she confronts Brandon — he’s sitting on the floor in the bedroom — he doesn’t seem to know what she’s talking about.

That doesn’t stop a fight from ensuing thanks to friend Aubre who gins Aleshia up with tales of someone overhearing someone talking about Brandon or something. So, Aleshia calls “that bitch” up on the phone, while on camera, and she says “I don’t want him in my life, Aleshia.” Which is a hell of an endorsement for a guy who cries in bushes.

Moneygrubbing Bridezilla Yovanna is back on. The narrator says this will be the most expensive wedding in Bridezillas history. What an honor for a Zilla not far enough removed from hoodumble roots.

A weave gets thrown into a toilet for some reason or another.

An “I am ready to get drunk” or “crunk” notation is made on camera when she’s rolling out in Miami Beach for a bachelorette party in which she mocks her sisters for never having been to Miami with her before — they’re from the ATL.

As a result of overbooking, Gail or whatever starts asking people to leave or move at the rehearsal dinner.

Basically, what we have here is a woman who trapped a rich guy and now mocks the lower-caste family from which she comes.

Pretty wedding yadda yadda yadda.

Here’s hoping groom Rick — who seems alright — got an iron-clad prenup and puts her out with the recycling the first trash day after they return from the honeymoon.

Fauxlove ain’t worth the hassle, bro.

There was a moment when I thought that Bridezilla Sofia was charming. It was after they cloak-showed the work her bosom doctor had done, but before she explained how she would ask her man, every single day, whether he was going to marry her and when he was going to propose, rinse, repeat, daily.

Because that’s tacky.

Not as tacky as the uncomfortable silence that ensues when Sofia and meatbag groom-to-be Shaun were asked what makes their relationship special. A silence that lasted until she says something about attraction i.e. banging. But tacky nonetheless.

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE THESE TWO ARE FROM PHILLY TOO. I wonder if they purchase Twitter followers like Rob and Remy Maaddi. (Side note: Taneema and Thomas were the best Bridezillas couple in show history).

But I digress.

Seems as if Sofia can’t parallel park without dinging some cars near 13th and Chestnut. Nor can she walk back to 13th and Chestnut from City Hall after procuring the marriage license on the fourth floor.

The loving couple leaves Philadelphia City Hall

Fun fact for non-Philadelphians: The fourth floor is where City Council holds its hearings; also, 13th and Chestnut is two and a half blocks from where they exited the building.

Funner fact: They came perilously close to an upskirt shot when they show Sofia getting into the car in an alley while wearing a short, tight, breast-revealing pink dress.

Anyway, they show her crying when they go to some place called “River Winde” to prep for the reception. Then, they show her telling the wedding planners how Shaun used to be an alcoholic, but that he can drink at the reception because, whatever, he’s not really that much of an alcoholic I suppose.

They get into a “your stoopid” spat because Shaun doesn’t remember the appetizers they’re serving. They’re so Philly that I think I may have seen these two around before.

Anyway, Shaun wanted to head out to the gym — imagine that — but Sofia has a spray tanning appointment for them. When Shaun objects to this on account of him not liking spray tanning because it’s fake, this is what Bridezillas cheekily shows:

Because her breastuses are fake, in case you didn’t catch on. Get it? Fake tan and fake titties?

Oooh Lord, she looks harsh when not all made up. No offense. Kinda like that wake-up picture of Katy Perry that Russell Brand instagrammed that one time. Just not flattering.

Then, what we have is Shaun stripping down into a thong. Striking poses like he’s in a Mr. Strong Dude contest. But then Sofia’s all like, I don’t like it when he shows his body off for others because that should just be for her. This makes sense, on account of the dude looking like he carves out 10 waking minutes a day to non-fitness-related endeavors.

Just so, so, so Northeast and/or South Philly, these two (I think the former since they show them heading into town on the Schuylkill).

She doesn’t seem to have many friends, as they left town after high school.

“Shaun gets to go out with his friends and all, but all my friends are gone. It’s so lonely,” she says. “I feel alone. I feel alone. I feel alone. It sucks. It’s a lonely, cold world out there.”

I hope things get better before next week’s episode.

When they bring Bridezilla Aleshia back on — which is akin to waterboarding someone with bamboo shoots under their fingernails — it’s bachelorette party time. She’s fixated on the fact that Brandon’s ex hangs out at the bar to which they’re heading.

There’s talk — at her three-woman party — that she shouldn’t go through with the wedding; then there’s talk about the three going to a hotel room and getting naked all night and the need for baby wipes because it’s “going to get messy.” I’m really not sure what’s going on here, but I’m really, really sure that I don’t want to see the equivalent of a Port-o-Potty getting flipped so three meth queens can roll around in the refuse.

Fast forward to the next day and Aleshia tells Brandon that his best man Lucas was talking shit about her. She learned this because she went through his phone. So he admits he doesn’t like her. Brandon acts all tough which is like a kitten scowling at another kitten who just laughs it off.

This is an example of a Bridezillas contestant who will never be able to blame producers and show runners for editing the footage to make her look worse. Zero redeeming qualities. Unless you consider yelling off a balcony about how he doesn’t have money in front of other people.

Time to fast forward through their segments; I don’t want to subject you to this nonsense anymore.

I don’t know whether the DVR didn’t record one of two new episodes last night, or whether obnoxious Bridezilla Sofia and meatbag Sully were just contained to a single episode that ended short last week.

But whatever. From what I’ve seen of how the St. Joe’s grad Zilla treats haters on Twitter and on camera, it’s best that I not lose another 44 minutes of my life watching her camera-eager exploits. It’s akin to getting bored with the fake when some respectable real gets up on the pole.

Besides, we got two noobs, including Bridezilla Ariane, who is a) marrying a 14-year-older gentleman named Jorge and b) a total asshole.

She says “if things don’t go my way,” people better “watch out” because they might get “punched in the face.”

From La Crescenta, Cal., they head off to a sex shop the week before the wedding.

“I love sex shops,” she says. “People get married because they want to have sex and make babies.”

That is Hawkingian in its depth and insight.

They bring Jorge’s cousin-in-law. A roomy gal. Ariane DGAF if Jorge’s uncomfortable. Because Ariane DGAF about anything but herself apparently.

But anyway, Jorge doesn’t think he doesn’t need a cockring.

As to the assplug with a horsetail, he’s “open to it.”

Anyway, she’s so hungry at the sex shop that she eats edible undies as a snack.

Off to the bachelorette party now. She’s drunk before they head out. I suspect it’ll intensify her disconnect between how attractive she thinks she is and how attractive she really is.

She’s talking about her vagina, and how it will be visible because of her attire. She’s going to a pool hall.

“Do you want to party and have a good time? Then you want to do it with me,” she says after readjusting her skirt to cover her vagina. “I’m not shy about my sexuality. If it feels right, I’ll just, like, do it.”

Moments later, she tells people that Jorge turns pictures of Lady Gaga around when he’s about to tap Ariane’s azz. Moments later than that, she’s taking a tour of the pool hall in pursuit of condoms. Moments later than that, she toasts vagina and talks about “propaganda schemes.”

Then, she twerks like a rhythmless cracker. Look:

Her brother C.J. then realizes, after getting hauled along to the florists with Sister Headache, that the bridesmaids bailed on account of just not wanting to be around her.

“Country Bumpkin Bridezilla” Ashley, a hillperson from Tennessee, is marrying Cooter. It’s like the Blue Collar Comedy Tour decided to do a mashup with Cars’ Tow Mater and marry off a couple real folk. The type of real folk that git painted into loose-fitting clothing.

She’s gonna wear cowboy boots at the wedding. Cowboy boots that she used to wear working gas-station shifts. When this proposal faces pushback, she asks her dad for some Jack Daniels. Then, she complains about gittin’ bit by dang bugs, so her mama applies anti-itch cream.

Except it was cream for “anal-itch relief.” This is discussed in front of two young kin who look one degree removed from the X-Files “Home” episode.

“Well guess what, pal,” Ashley says to Cooter, pointing at her ass-itch-cream covered face. “You kiss this anus!”

You know what, these two are likeable as all hell. Day before the wedding, they’re at the state store. She’s aching for vodka. Cooter wants some “shine.” He goes ahead and grabs a jar of some 190-proof shine.

Here’s a picture of Cooter tellin his womanfolk she’s gotta stop with the attitude.

He ends up leaving the store after a yellin’ fight at the liquor-store counter.

After the commercial break, talk turns to how Peanut will be at the wedding. Peanut is Ashley’s pet squirrel.

She pauses and pleads the fifth when asked if she loves Peanut or Cooter (who they call Chris for some reason) more. Realsies. Side note: Squirrels are the worst creatures on earth. This includes things that spread disease and flesh-eating bacterias and whatnot. Fuck Peanut. Fuck Peanut all the way to hell.

Anyway, at the altar, she chooses Cooter over Peanut, who pooped all over her wedding gown. (That didn’t stop her from walking up the aisle with a squirrel in clenched in her hand.

As much as I dug Cooter’s style, it’d have been flat-out awesome if she went the other way and decided to marry a squirrel on cable television. Let’s all hold out hope that there’s a spinoff show about her making Cooter live in the garage and giving Peanut the run of her house, body and soul.

Well I’ll be damned. The first of two new Bridezillas didn’t register on the DVR last night. Luckily, the final moments of said episode appeared. Here’s what Aunt Sherrye had to say to drunken Bride Ariane (here’s her first Zillas appearance) after the nuptials:

Oh, Aunt Sherrye, you sassy minx, engaging in pussy talk with your niece.

Anyway, if you really want to see more, WeTV’s site has a gallery from the episode. Do with it what you will.

You turn on Bridezillas, see the name Mai Lee and suspect the name is pronounced like Miley, thus instantly expecting a twerkfest will ensue. But no. It’s more like May Lee and she’s nothing but anger shoehorned into white lace and/or jorts. She’s marrying Tomas who she “hated” at first because he was an “obnoxious prick.”

She’s talking about wanting “two-sided on one side” party favors of some sort. What would that even look like?

While driving somewhere, talking about how happy she is to get married, a driver cuts them off. When said driver pulls into a driveway, Mai Lee points out that it’s good that they know where he lives so they can come back later.

They have car-toy cake toppers, though she says she’d like it if Tomas was less into cars. That, and a blonde bride despite the fact that Mai Lee is not, in fact, blonde. They use a brown Sharpie to remedy this oversight.

Kinda underwhelming, thus far, even as she’s prattling on about how members of the wedding party aren’t allowed to drink.

She’s not so much a Bridezilla as a pushy character on a show in its end stages (just four episodes left after this episode. Insert sad face here) who keeps saying she’s going to “go crazy” but just yells and points and cusses and tries to shoo the cameras away. I mean, she holds herself as violence prone, but whatever. Even that’s not all too compelling.

Bridezilla Roxy is a former Survivor contestant who is having a “yacht-side wedding.”

“Accepting the call of God to ministry,” is how her Survivor bio‘s “claim to fame” entry reads. Makes sense, then, this here appearance on Bridezillas.

She says she doesn’t like cheese when her subcompact hub-to-be Josh is preparing a grilled cheese. She also says she fears God. She proceeds to “throw shade” at bridesmaids not fully committed to their foisted-uponcalling.

“This is what makes being a Christian really hard,” she says shortly thereafter. “You just want to knock people out, and Jesus is on the side saying, ‘No.’”

This makes perfect sense, what with no violence ever being perpetrated in the name of the Lord.

Anyway, ladygroom Josh calls Roxy during her bridal shower and he’s stranded along some road somewhere and she breaks down in tears and has to go retrieve him, this after she implores him to call AAA or something. She was expecting a call about how great she is. But NO. This fucking guy was calling in a time of need. How annoying!

Their stylist name is Jathan. He’s involved in the wedding-singer auditions. Singer is loosely applied here, as tooth-challenged, upper-sixties “Amazing Amy” is a contortionist. Jathan says this is “out of the ballpark” entertainment. She can pick her nose with a toe, a toe she proceeds to suck a few seconds later. Alas, Amy, who took the subway to the audition, did not get the j-o-b. She takes this affront personally, carrying on and whatnot in the background.

Oh, this is Amazing Amy, akin to an opening-round early-season American Idol castoff:

Jathan is wearing a sleeveless denim jacket with what appear to be sequins on the front pocket.

The boat their wedding is on — not Jathan’s; Roxy and whateverhisnameis’ — seems like one of those ferries that take people to the Statue of Liberty. Or Lewes, Del. Or across the River Styx, when the wedding singer is dismissed and then permitted back into active duty; no idea why. Too boring of an exchange.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Then, after someone says the wedding’s off, they got married. Fin.

The first thing you’ll notice about Bridezilla Angela is her breastuses jiggling while she sit dances in the limo. That’s what the producers of Bridezillas intended they opened this episode with Bridezilla Angela‘s breastuses jiggling while she sit danced in a limo.

From there, the observations become more psychological than physical; i.e.:

– She throws a veil at some lady; presumably her or her man-to-be’s mammy.

– She holds her man-to-be down in a chair as his bows are waxed.

– She throws a glass of water in some bridesmaid’s face that she presumably doesn’t like (as in, her man-to-be’s sister).

– She smashes a huge glass vase in a parking lot to presumably make a point that people are making her wedding-planning more problematic than it should be.

This is all before the opening credits. After the opening credits? Yep. Groomie’s sister raises her hand and speaks when the pontiff asks for objectees. Look:

She’s hot, though. Actually, both bride and sis are. So there’s that. There’s also this kind of attitude which chips away at the value of mere appearance:

“This is my wedding. This is my week. If I don’t get my way, I get frustrated and angry,” she says.

Groom-to-be Eric explains that he met her at work, but after that encounter, his performance slipped and he lost that gainful employment. He also notes that he has to run everything he wants to do by her, because, well, there’s no reason on earth anyone should be treated as such this long after the Emancipation Proclamation was, um, proclaimed.

“She’s crazy,” The Bitchboy of Irving, Tejas maintains, though Angela chalks it all up to being committed to organization and whatnot. “Whatever she says, goes.”

Philosophy-in-action: She makes him come to the salon while she, mammy, sis-in-law get mani/pedis. She makes him fetch wine. She declares that if she told him to go over into the corner and do a salsa dance, that’s exactly what he would do. Then, she makes him dance.

“If he was any more whipped,” says narrator Mindy, “he’d be meringue.”

I wonder how long until he starts walking into doorknobs. Lack of eyebrows, which she made him get waxed off, would probably draw too much attention to the facial damage right now, though, so they’ll probably wait.

“I’m putting my blood and tears in the wedding,” he says, leaving out the vaginal secretions left behind as well. (Oh yes I di’d.)

When they meet the photog, Angela says she intends to get her money’s worth. But, one photographer isn’t enough for her. Especially for the 250-person affair. She suggests 10. Doesn’t care. Because it’s Eric’s cash and “I just spend it.”

“Money concerns? Well, just go get some more,” the blushing bride-to-be says. “Swipe that credit card. Fuck it.”

Then, she refuses to let the photog (who just threw in two other shutterbugs) eat anything at said wedding and reception.

She is such a doll.

Anyway, they’re onto the DJ. He has zero thoughts about music; she wants lovey girlie classic music. He then thought about “booty shaking sexy type” music for the garter toss. She retorts that he must think she’s a stripper. He cites Filipini rage. DJ says he oughta be able to pick at least one song for the event. She says fuck to the no. Because he don’t mean nothing here, yo.

Says sis-in-law Sandy, who looks like the hottie from The Crow kinda, “I think she’s a spoiled brat. … If Angela keeps pushing, I don’t think she’ll have a groom at the end of the week, and I’ll completely understand if my brother doesn’t show up because she’s just been so demanding lately, even with the smallest things.”

GuhROWL. But we’ll have to wait until next week to see if Sandy Crow’s predictions come to pass.

Anyway, Bridezilla Mai Lee is back this week.

She’s talking about party favors not being done.

And how tired she is.

And how she’ll “stab” someone if he tries to mug her and her mammy on the way to the salon for an appointment to which they’re several hours tardy. Cunt doesn’t even thank the salon for squeezing them in despite blowing the appointment. “She was rude. Very bitchy,” says the salon owner. Understatement.

Anyway, here is a very flattering shot of Mai Lee at the salon:

Egads.

From there, she don’t like brother Mardom’s dyed-fauxhawk hair despite her wanting him to “look clean like everyone else.”

Mardom’s all, like, I wasn’t thinking about the wedding when I did my hair so whatEVar. Our happiness should not be sacrificed for her happiness.

“MARDOM IT’S MY FUCKING WEDDING!” says Mai Lee before swiping a bunch of stuff off the table and ripping Mardom’s “silver head.”

Soon, a black cat shows up outside the house. And the skies open with rain.

“He hates me. God hates me,” Mai Lee says.

Mai Lee is right.

God hates self-satisfied, rude Bridezillas. It says so in the Bible. Look it up. You’ll see.

But, Mai Lee and Tomas get married anyway (attractiveness quotient: bridesmaids > bride; and, alcohol consumed despite bridey’s prohibitions). Here’s hoping their God is not a vengeful deity lest the gates of Hell will open and swallow Hiealeh, Fla. whole.

Hey look, it’s the first Native-American Bridezilla in show history! Her name is Bridezilla Adrianne.

She’s marrying a cat named Waylon. That is a great name. He kinda looks like Vili Fualaau.

“It’s a real bonus that we’re not related, you know? That’s a bonus,” says Waylon of South Dakota. “On the reservation, you know, you tend to be close to other families. So. Yeah.”

Anyway, they’re using duct tape for some sort of wedding favor. I think it’s the Love Song mix that she and Waylon made for attendees. She doesn’t get along very well with Waylon’s brother Juwan, and best man, who they show with a rainbow and unicorn. He doesn’t seem to like Adrianne much either and static arises when they’re making the CD cases with pink duct tape.

When Adrianne confronts Waylon re: his not sticking up for her when people talk at her and all, he notes that “you’re a big girl, you can handle it.” She takes this as an assault on her body image. Jokes, though. I think:

When Adrianne takes Waylon to the salon for a pedicure, he’s talking about how he’s a dude and only those “special dudes” get manicures and pedicures and how even being there has cost him a lot of “dude points.”

She then shifts her attention toward getting Waylon’s mustachio waxed off. Look:

From there, they’re off to the florists. Waylon notes that he’d like zombies in the centerpieces. This, because he proffered the thought of having a zombie-themed wedding, an idea nixed by Adrianne, unfortunately.

Adrianne later gives Waylon and Juwan some Eazy Cheese, crackers and a plate. Since they enjoy making her miserable, she hopes they get cancer from the Eazy Cheeze or something. And Eazy Cheese fight then ensues with Juwan straight up covering the back of Adrianne’s head with it to the point that she’s retching in the kitchen sink.

Remember last week, how I commented upon how attractive Bridezilla Angela is? Yeah, take it all back. The ugly arrogance inside would make Katy Perry look like the McPoyle’s sister on It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

She is an ugly, ugly, uglyuglyugly person.

Anyway, she and Eric start off the episode at a jewelry shop. She’s talking about how they blew well past their budget for the wedding. However, she wants “sparkly” things.

“Don’t you think I deserve the best?” she asks after noting that he proposed to her before security at customs. “Happy wife, happy life.”

Her favorite phrase seems to be “I want.”

She throws a snit because her birthday party for which she showed up for an hour late started without her. Then, she started bitching about a lack of money in the birthday cards. She notes that the amount of money spent on the wedding is other people’s problems, not hers. As such, guests should shell out some more goddamn coin.

There’s cake thrown.

There are seeds planted for a major confrontation with Eric’s hot sister Sandy.

From there, it’s onto a bridesmaids wedding judgement party. One BM talks about how Angela told them to lose weight. So, it’s not her problem if the dresses are too tight. So, one bridesmaid kinda bottoms out …

… and what does Angela do? Goes in the kitchen, gets “some fucking water” and throws it in her friend’s face, then threatening “bitch, bring it” all gangsta-wannabe like. (It did “wake” bridesmaid up, tho.)

She then urges her bridesmaids to do whatever the fuck they want. Puke. She don’t care. Just get it right.

I’ll have to go back through my show archives, but I’m pretty sure Bridezilla Angela is the worst cretin to ever appear on this show.

Anyway, there is the hope that she’ll be cool at the bachelorette party. But that idea dies when Eric and bros show up at said party.

Then, Horrible Angela starts giving Sandy the business because she’s not paying attention to her the whole time, choosing to speak to her boyfriend after Eric shows up at tha scene. Yelling, hand-waving, etc. ensues.

Eric steps in. Angela asks him to pick one or another. Then, she storms off all drama-queeney. It seems as if she’s trying out for some soft-core reality contest show, the problem being her hold on reality — more specifically, her standing therein — is tenuous at best.

The next morning, Angela sheds crocodile tears before deciding that she’ll go through with the rehearsal gathering even though Eric decided not to show up. But Sandy does!!! And Angela groans because she’s late, one night after she kicked her out of the wedding. She then demands an apology in front of the crowd because it’s “her week.”

“You’re not going to have any friends by the end of this wedding,” says a bridesmaid. “Everyone’s pissed off. No one wants to be here.”

And here come more crocodile tears with a “fuck it, I’m not going to get married.” Which is a lie. They showed her walking down the aisle in the preview. Previews that ALSO showed Sandy stepping up to the plate and objectin’ to the proceedings. Which totally rules. I kinda object, and you should too. So horrible, this broad.

She then bitches about the veil, cunty right up till the ceremony.

And then the moment comes:

“I object,” says Sandy. “Eric, as your sister, I don’t want you to marry Angela.”

OH SNAP!!!

“Don’t listen to my sister,” says Eric.

Husband and wife blah blah blah bleeds into a disco ball and Angela’s declaration that “Eric has to live with me for the rest of his life.”

Yes. Yes he does. Poor fucking thing, he just writes it off to Angela being possessed by demons this week.

When you first meet Bridezilla Willaura, you instantly wish you hadn’t. She thinks she the “hottest socialite in Atlanta.” I pray, for the sake of the men in Atlanta, that she isn’t right. Because that’d be the ugliest place on earth.

Imagine if Diana Ross weighed 50 pounds less than she did in the coke era. That’s what we’re looking at with Willaura.

She explains that she used to be a teacher, until the kids started saying she was bipolar. File that one away. Reckon it’s a signpost of behavior to come.

She holds court about how she bosses her manmaid Marques around. Specifically, how people oughta call him Mr. Willaura. Which would be an honor.

Beanpole says she doesn’t like making decisions when she’s hungry, lonely, angry or tired. She also says this is a “celebrity wedding.” The caterer gets a real kick out of that nonsense. The caterer also gets a kick out of Willaura demanding that he cut her chicken for her, and to say “your dinner is served.” She says he should be honored by her mere presence.

Anyway, she refers to her friends as “assistants,” at least the one that she made come over to help alter her wedding dress. Nyeshia, the friend, doesn’t quite understand why she’d spend thousands upon thousands on a dress only to hack it up. But whatever. Also, Willaura refers to a tailor as an “alterator.” Those Mensa walls are gonna crumble down with this level of intellipower.

Bridezilla Willaura

Of course she screws up the dress. I shouldn’t even have had to tell you that. But, it wasn’t her fault. They didn’t make the dress right, apparently. She starts crying to the point when there’s a worry that her misaltered wedding dress will get mascara stained.

Her tantrum speaks to a preschool sensibility. Her necklace reads “Bride.” Her relationship with her father speaks to issuing demands for more money that he should hand over on command because everything is about her so shut the hell up about being hungry, dad; we’ll order when I get more money out of you.

Willaura’s final offer: If you don’t give me more money, you will not walk me down the aisle.

Wow.

Willaura’s daddy is right: He SHOULD have had a son instead of this unappreciative babybeast who starts yelling and screaming at him at a public eatery.

Waterworks continue when she explains why she says she doesn’t want to go to the bachelorette party because nobody knows what she’s going through. Things are just so hectic and stressful and who has time to go out drinking and dancing, even when they’re the hottest socialite in Atlanta.

Resistance was temporary. She’s slugging booze out a thermos-lid-looking jawn and goblet. Her segment ends with some beef with the sister that involves others’ breaking them up.

Not sold on her being worthy of the final Bridezillas episode ever, but we’ll see next week.

_________

Bridezilla Adrianne is back for round two. This week, she doesn’t want to get married to Waylon.

Anyway, Adrianne says she thought Waylon was stalking her in college, to which Waylon retorts that “we Indians like to stalk her prey.”

I dig this Waylon cat bigtime.

Anyway, she seems to have a hatecrush on Waylon’s brother Juwan, who Bridezillanarrator repeatedly indicates is an attractive fellow.

She is decrying the pressures that the world puts on brides. It is a decent argument, in fact:

“I’m sick everyday. I’m tired because of all the pressure society puts on us to be this perfect bride, everything has to be perfect. This creation …” she says, waving hands in circles indicating her totality, her essence, “is, I’m a product of society. So, if I act crazy, it’s YOUR fault.”

When she says that Waylon has the mentality of an 8th grader, he corrects her to say 9th grader.

Anyway, she’s outgrown her dress “from eating like crazy and I can’t stop.” She requests bridesmaids help her with her “fat.” This is what Adrianne missed when she requested someone take a picture of her back fat:

“I actually don’t like being the center of attention. It weirds me out,” she explains, before being grossed out by said back fat. “How’m'I’gonna get married? My belly button looks like a donut hole. What if I can’t wear my girdle? This is not funny!!! How am I supposed to feel like a beautiful bride if everything’s just falling out everywhere?”

This reaction warrants compassion, not mockery. The bridesmaids laughing at her stands as concern that the war on women is being waged from within the gender. Ladies, stop tearing one another down, yo. United, you stand.

Issues between Adrianne and Juwan warrant a walk-off from the crowd moment. Juwan apologizes for being standoffish. Then, when she walks away, he’s all like good luck, bro, you’re in for a long haul.

Wedding day arrives for the first-ever Native-American Bridezilla: She’s committed to squeezing into her dress and does so somewhat. The forehead curling-iron burn mark is also of concern. (“I can feel it turning purple!!!”)

“Do I look scary? Do I look like I’m going to the graveyard?” she asks as she prepares to walk down the aisle. “I feel like I’m dead. Like I’m in a casket. Crap.”

Aw. Tears flow when Waylon reads his vows. Two become one. C’est Magnifique!

Oh, Waylon and Juwan do some bump and grinding at the reception. So, there’s that.

RELATED ISSUES:

Next week’s is the final episode of Bridezillas. So, WeTV is conducting a “Worst Bridezillas Ever” poll: Vote here.

They also offered up a Season 10 Freakout Frenzy:

Meet Bridezilla Megan, who will enter trivia lore by being the type of Bridezillas whose one-episode appearance just happened to be the show’s last-ever episode (pour one out for tha homies who were dragged into lives with bridezillas).

She’s a sharp one, talking about “hunting you down like a rabbit” and how people should get out of the kitchen if they can’t handle the honesty. (To her credit, she corrects the latter one right off the bat, so she’s probably Mensan in the eyes of folk in Fayetteville, NC.)

Anyway, she and fiance Matt used to work together; she was his boss, and she “thought he was gay.” They got hammered to the point of falling in love, though, to the point that he thinks her tantrums are “adorable.”

One of her bridesmaids looks like episodic Carrie on an episode of Homeland. She’s called over to discuss using makeup to change the color of shoes to “nude.” What results is poo hue.

Megan also wears green pants. Not sure why, but this offends fashion sensibilities imho. What also offends me is that, 15 minutes into the episode, I’m not sensing any nobility that explains why Bridezilla Megan would land a spot on the finale of such an illustrious series. Hoping this changes, lest my faith in humanity suffer a hit.

There’s some sort of haggling over the photographer’s contract but whatever. Her interview segments remind me of what a Proactiv testimonial on Tea Party dating site must look like, though. Not that politics come into play whatsoever. Just a vibe, I suppose.

She takes issue with boypal Josh’s criticisms of her wedding dress, too. Because he’s “stupid.” Josh, however, sees honesty as the key to real friendship, even as she yaps away at him from another room, asking him to leave her house.

Soon, the plot returns to the shoes, as Megan is outside spray painting them. End result: Shoes ruined.

Wedding day is here. Photographer’s a few minutes late. She’s deducting $2 per minute of tardiness. She’s telling him he can’t even drink or piss without her permission now. She owns him. Which really plays well when you consider that the photog’s a black dude and this is North Carolina.

After a long pause, he says he wants to marry her and kisses her and hears her say “I’m your wife. I own you, bitch. … What now? I’m really looking forward to having babies.”

Then, the cameras follow them as they walk down the hall to get to bangin’. As the episode fades to black, Megan can be heard chanting, “To the bed, to the bed, to. the. bed.”

The final episode also marked the return of Bridezilla Willaura, who seemingly has a bit of a sense of humor about all the attention.

They show the bachelorette party tiff with sis-in-law to get erbody back up to speed on what we’re dealing with here. She has them singing a song about her, too. Look:

“A lot of people live their lives through me,” says Willaura, still holding tight to the dreams of socialite status.

She then takes the mic from the DJ and calls out her sister.

“This girl has not been there for me,” she declares to an entire club, demanding a “public apology.”

“She was lucky I didn’t jab her in the throat,” says Willaura’s maid of honor Tina who, instead of publicly apologizing, threatens to beat her with a shoe amid a shove-off outside.

It looked to me as if Tina tried spitting on Willaura as well.

Next day, Tina shows up and says, “Sorry for spitting on you.” (Suspicion confirmed) “Sorry for almost beating you up outside the club.” Aw.

Next stop is a stripper-pole lesson. This whole oh-so-naughty type of jawn is so played out at this point, but whatevs.

Anyway, she doesn’t enjoy herself.

This results in a parking-lot meltdown when Tina goes off to get more money to cover the strip-class. The meltdown includes Willaura requiring Tina to open her car door for her.

Willaura then admits that she opened her man’s emails to get details on that night’s bachelor party. He’s playing close to the vest with details, as he don’t know she know he goin’ to the tittie bar. When she admits this affront to privacy, he says he never read said email so he doesn’t know he’s heading to the tittie bar.

“He might need to re-evaluate who his friends are,” says Willaura, still carrying on about the bachelor party.

“I will be so, so happy when this wedding is over,” he says.

Wedding Day, they’re showing some pro-Willaura propaganda video, but the audio’s effed the eff up so it’s like slo-mo moans. This does not go over well. She’s agitated now. DJ is in the crosshairs. But then the wedding starts — nearly three hours late — and vows are exchanged.

Then, Willaura starts singing an Ode to Her: “Willaura, is a beautiful wife, hey, hey, hey” before some more drama breaks out that doesn’t warrant explanation.

“It was just a waste of time, and a waste of money,” she says of the nuptials.

Not exactly Keyser Soze, but a fitting conclusion.

In the last moments of the Willaura nuptials segment, it is time to reflect on how this marks the end of a series that changed the face of Wedding Television in perpetuity.

Sure, there’s a second Marriage Boot Camp: Bridezillas coming up in January, but I will surely miss this bird’s eye view into the insanity created when cameras are pointed at people during a stressful time in their lives, thus amplifying any penchant for narcissistic behavior.

See ya, Bridezillas. You’ve been fun.

Friday night was the first time I’d been back at the Wells Fargo Center since watching Dunk City, aka Florida Gulf Coast, marvel its way to the Sweet 16. It was an epic two-game run; among my Greatest Witnessed-Live Sporting Events ever.

Friday night, I sat through an atrocious two-period run of hockey. After looking sharp, but goalless, for the first 15 minutes against the Capitals, the Flyers done got slaughtered to the tune of seven goals scored against with the quickness.

Steve Mason got yanked after three of ‘em for Ray Emery, who I’ll long remember had an image of Joe Frazier on his goalie mask.

There were multiple “Fire Holmgren” chants. (Deserved. Hopefully successful.)

The arena was about half full for the start of the third period. I was among the remaining Flyers fans. Twenty-three rows off the ice behind the net from which Emery darted and done did this:

Didn’t see him dart off initially. Was watching another fight on the ice. But then I saw him hauling off on Braden Holtby’s luscious flowing locks. It was old school.

It prompted me, Guinness in hand, to jump up and down and screech like a frothing-at-the-mouth trucker who got ringside seats to Wrestlemania. Never saw a goalie brawl live before. As such, this joins Dunk City on the memorable moments list.

All y’all nanny-staters poo-pooing Emery’s actions as out of line mustn’t have liked the Flyers hockey of yore, I suppose.

What I saw was a guy wilding out because his team was getting its ass destroyed on the ice. Sometimes, all you can do is fight.

Poor sportsmanship? Sure.

A punishable offense? Certainly.

Savagery? C’mon, people.

A last-gasp effort to Tase the spirit of a team rapidly sinking to the bottom of the North Atlantic? Absolutely.

So STFU with the whole holier-than-thou high-horse jockeying. Judging by the reaction today, you’d have thought Emery raped a kitten in front of death-bed orphans in Quebec City.

If you don’t like the fact that sometimes senseless hockey violence is wielded as a motivational adze, watch Say Yes To The Dress. Or the NFL. Because all y’all sure as hell will watch that brain-damaging institution without the slightest bit of irony on Sunday, won’t you?

It seems like yesterday when the first season of Marriage Boot Camp: Bridezillas filled Philly Blunt’s world with joy, courtesy of some decent people and others who bought Twitter followers to make themselves feel more important than they are.

But it was a whole bunch of months ago and tonight, we launch into a whole new season. They start off the season with a “Meet the Couples” episode. And instantly, we see Philly up in this jawn in the form of Shaun and Sofia. This should be fun.

So anyway, this post’ll probably just be general bios of the folks who’ll inhabit 10 or so blog posts over the next couple months. Let the judgmentalism commence!!!

Couple No. 1: Bridezilla Gloria and Victim Mark.

I never wrote about them before. Probably for the best since Gloria is presented as a knife-wielding lady who serves raw meat. In the flashback, she’s threatening to call the cops if her mom shows up at the wedding, an event for which she hacked off her own hair. She’s called a total bitch. Not sure this’ll be disputed.

Per Mark, she’s actually gotten worse since her turn on Bridezillas. The nagging, in particular.

They proceed to show clips of her nagging, during which Mark admits to slowplaying his reaction time to Gloria’s orders.

Also per Mark, they don’t bang as much as he’d like. Gloria gets to talking about her vagina needs air because it’s unhealthy if a vagina isn’t given time to breathe.

She also requests that he set a timer on his phone to remind him to compliment her often.

Couple No. 2: Mai-Lee and Tomas.

She was an angry one. Oh my, was she ever. Really pushy, too, per Tomas, who I recall as being pretty cool n’shit.

They were on the show in September. Of 2013. Six months ago. Six. Months. (Granted, they don’t shoot these shows live, but dear lawd that’s still a quick jump from altar to Marriage Boot Camp.

Tomas is seeking a second opinion, confirmation that his bride is crazy.

Oh, they have a kid. And, Mai Lee wants some sort of tracking device on him. Tomas. Not the kid. The kid’s probably already been embedded with a GPS chip. She’s a tempest in a teabag. I see some prostitution-whore style table flippin’ coming down the line. Especially since Tomas said he might as well cheat on her since she’s always accusing him of doing so, accusations accompanied by threats of torching everything in sight should this ever happen.

Couple No. 3: Blanca and Julian.

I remember these two. Specifically, how she wanted the wedding cake to say “BJ” on the top. Also, her ample bosom. That rang a bell, too.

They show these two scream fighting in the commercial. And flipping a table.

They show a clip of Julian getting his ass waxed while Blanca taunts him. That must have been fun.

Kinda like these two. Think that their talk’s more bluster than they feel in their respective hearts (even when they get into a fight because he asked her to get him a towel when he was in the shower).

Who knows, though, what with them being on Marriage Boot Camp this soon after the nuptials.

When the subject of kids comes up, she says she already has one: Her husband who shortly thereafter mentions that his ass is currently wet, while sitting on the couch.

“There are people who are bi-polar,” says Julian, who reminds me of an off-Broadway version of Stallone’s foe in ‘Over The Top.’ “I live with someone who’s tri-polar.”

Nice.

Anyway, I’m gonna lay some spoiler alert down already: These two shouldn’t even be here. They gon’ make it through.

Couple No. 4: Sofia and Shaun.

Yes, two years of MBC: Bridezillas; two years of unbearable Philly couples. I apologize, Merica, but we’re not all like this.

Sofia was all, like, get these cameras out of my face. But, here she is, signed up for more cameras in her face six months later.

When they show them in today-mode, Shaun’s coming home from the gym and Sofia is wearing a bustier or something similar while folding laundry on the couch. They say their relationship’s gotten worse since marriage. Has something to do with how he rubs an ex-ladyfriend from L.A. in her face all the time or something. Difficult to follow.

Shaun starts talking about how he was a goofy looking kid so now he’s all buff and loves it.

I think they live pretty close to me. From what they show of their house, I sense Mt. Airy, but could be wrong.

Whatever. I’m too busy contemplating piercing my ear drums so I don’t have to listen to Sofia bitch about the L.A. girl again.

Godspeed, meatbag Shaun.

Couple No. 5: Tasha and Jeff.

They of the three-episode run in the summer of ’12. (1, 2, 3.)

She got knocked up a couple days into wedded bliss. Both would have preferred a little bit of lead time before being parents. They fight nonstop. She’s already filed papers. He wants to go MBC to help their daughter grow up in a stable environment. The kid’s name is Dallas. She lives with Tasha’s parents now.

She says she’s the victim. She doesn’t say that she loves him. So, it makes perfect sense why they got married in the first place. Because now parents have to play counsellor.

Tasha, she’s probably the worst person in the past two seasons of this show, if not television history.

Can’t wait to watch Tasha — mental toddler that she is — melt down over the course of the next 10 or so weeks.

It doesn’t take but 20 seconds of the season-ahead tease to see that this year’s crop of Marriage Boot Campeteers is yelley screamy broey broettey. Amped it up from last year. Bent a wee bit more toward the Tool Academy presentation.

We’ll see.

Philly’s out of the limo at the mansion first. Sofia and Shaun. Married “4? 5?” months, per Shaun. Sofia is wearing huge blue-ish earrings. Kinda match Shaun’s bro-T. Look:

She thinks anger’s the biggest hurdle they face as a team. They show a bunch of fighting, nagging, backsassing clips. The way they look at the inside of the mansion, there’s a gleam of yo, maybe we really can make some coin out of this ‘experience’ in each of their eyes.

Tomas and Mai-Lee are up. Five months. “Our marriage is on the rocks,” says Mai-Lee. “Because of Tomas.”

She then notes that he needs to get fixed. They’re either going to like the other couples or not. Whatever. Soon, they meet meatbag and the missus.

She proceeds to say, in another locale, that Sofia looks like a tramp and Shaun’s hair is not to be touched.

Blanca and Julian. Year and a half. He says something that had to be bleeped out. He’s a realist: Five crazy Bridezillas. That’s what he’s in for. She seems to have it together. Like an off-Broadway Silky.

Finally, Tasha and Jeff. The showpieces. They who’ll get a bulk of the camera time. She already filed divorce papers. She’s diagnosing the other guests.

Philly Meatbag is pounding drinks. Gets noticed. First night, though. C’mon.

Oh, wait, there’s another couple. I don’t remember them from an earlier episode. Gloria. Mark. Thanks, WeTV for pointing it out. Gloria’s hatin on Blanca. Blanca’s hatin back.

Gloria’s gonna be the unliked one, but then she sidles up to someone who’s either weaker or needs some team play, if the house goes that clique-y way.

Here comes the rub. Outside the house. Called to a “party.” Movie-screen slideshow of happy times. Aw. Hammer’s gon’ fall soon though. Porsha’s brought back big-screen to smack talk. They’re gonna get Thunderdomed, but with widely-broadcast words. Cold-blooded shit, yo.

Like, Tasha says sometimes, you know, Jeff can’t even get it up.

Mai-Lee is a “dream crusher.”

Sofia said Shaun can’t stand to see her stupid face. He laughs. Maybe she is a victim here. Meatbag, man. Blanca thinks Blanca is perfect; Julian always caves in; when Julian caves in, it embiggens her. Jeff lives in a sexless prison.

This is the best gig that Porsha got out of last season?

The rooms are tagged with their cruel words. All of em. Pretty damn good idea, boot-camp sergeants.

Meatbag and Sofia are fighting at 1 a.m. Gloria calls him a bully and drama queen. Poll comes up on the screen. Are you #TeamGloria or #TeamShaun? (Yeah, amped the show up the Tool Academy way). Sixty-seven went former.

Jeff is a willing captive. Seriously. He married, and immediately impregnated, a horrible person.

Boot Camp Sergeants out now. They do that Brickyard thing. Grab a brick. Hate on yo partnah for things like trust and communication and compromise.

Mark or whatever his name is could end up being a hitter.

Jeff left a half hour after Tasha gave birth? Well, he’s just as horrible as she is, but she’s a little less horrible than before that story was shared.

Seems like Blanca and Julian are closer to being here for famewhoring than Sofia and Meatbag. Mai-Lee and Tomas are gonna fly under the radar the whole time, I reckon.

Now they’re all going into the pool. Bricks in crates, they must hold. Not all can for as long as others.

Something about balloons and report cards. Blah. Shaun’s an angry drunk. Blah. Mai-Lee is self-absorbed and jealous. Blah.

Gloria’s hurtful. Whatever his name is’s hair-trigger. This could get ugly.

If Rockwell’d been into low-rent reality shows…

So anyway, they seemed to think this episode was gonna be like tee ball, but instead of the ball, there’s an easy boomroast just there for the takin’.

Pretty exciting.

Let’s see. One of them’s making breakfast in bed for “brownie points” and getting torn down for crunchy bacon. Gloria and Mark. It’s them. They’re unbearable. Insufferable, really.

Field trip day. Van (tinted windows). They’re all blindfolded. What a potentially-prescient device!

Blindfolds off. They’re in court. Blood flows red on the highway; could bootcampeteers spirits get broken in fauxish court?!?

Heh. They got lawyers that they’re diming to. Sofia gets asked about steroids and violence and fears. Oh my.

They got a poll at the bottom of the screen. WHO WILL “WIN” THIS DIVORCE?

Shaun’s barrister’s asking about Facebook messages and money. This is what Sofia looked like when she admitted to squirreling money aside for “breast augmentation.”

Shaun’s getting grilled about being a bully. And some sippin’ issues. Not violent, though. Nope.

“Everyone knows Shaun has an anger-management problem. They’ve all seen it. Sorry,” says Sofia.

Judge Gretchen sends him to “domestic violence perpetrator classes.” Harsher than anger management. Oh snap.

Mark’s a liar. Gloria hits the kids? No. She whips ‘em.

Ugh.

Mai-Lee spends money they ain’t got.

Jeff bailed on daddying.

Julian hit a wall. “Maybe sometimes I get over-beveraged,” he says. Boss.

Blanca be lyin’ about botoxing. Whatever. That’s what we do in L.A.

Judge says “Blanca’s filled with contempt for the court as well as contempt for you.” Boot Camp Sergeants pile on with talk about a Blanca Bubble in which denial is a lifeforce. There’s like a Maury-backstage moment.

Tasha I think her name is says how these stories make theirs look good.

Shaun’s boozin’ again. It’s of discussion amongst the campeteers. Mai-Lee’s gettin all lectury. Gloria shouts her down. Even though it had nothing to do with Gloria. Enough of this already.

Were spirits broken? Naw. Erbody’s always so angry when they stick em in a room together, though; at least what the show’s showing of ‘em all being stuck in rooms together sans chaperone.

Aw, man. FiOS froze. Rebooting. Will see how many minutes I lost.

Nine.

If it’s anything important, someone fill me in pls.

Ok, back: Mai-Lee and Gloria (snappin’ her fingers at each syllable-ish to earn respect I guess?) becomes Tomas callin’ Gloria a bitch and whatever Gloria’s man’s name is saying step off my wife ain’t no bitch yo.

Dude’s then all krazy eye killa preentryin’. Tomas “will rip your head off. On TV.”

Mr. Gloria ends up hitting Sofia unintentionally or at least knocking he down. And while they don’t show it, he likely pisses his big-boy pants when Shaun takes this as a personal affront (plot-shift moment!). Then Shaun flips furniture and rips his shirt off.

They’re all, in their private interviews, making fun of the shirt tear.

Sofia’s playing Swiss. She’s frustrated; genuinely, it seems. They end up fightin’ in the hall.

Tasha and Jeff get camera time. Saner by default. But not really. There’s some time left in this season.

Next day, Shaun’s swearin’ off the bottle. We’ll see. Poll at the bottom says viewers don’t think he will. Benefit of the doubt from me, though. Philly thing.

Ok, summation thus far: Faux court; night of brawling; now onto break-out sessions framed as end-stage hospital visits.

Gloria and Mark fought in the car. Car crashed. Mark hospitalized; dying. Gloria criedish.

Oh for fuck’s sake, this kinda pisses me off. Life-and-deathbed shouldn’t be no damn reality-show prop. Borderline affront to decency. Is it really getting you any extra viewers, network and hosts?

Luckily, this is when the FiOS outage took some show away! Praise Jesus.

We got Tasha and Jeff on there now. She’s taking his inability to express himself in this scenario as important as human survival. It’s like Ghost, but without pottery or attractive people supernaturally-dryhumping to the Righteous Brothers.

Now, Shaun and Sofia are up. Drinkin’ and fightin’ and drivin’ and pinnin’ em both under a crushed car. Brain dead, apparently.

Shaun’s all can I switch places. Should be me in that bed. Adddrrrrriiiaaannnn! I was a scumbag bastard and you saved my life. I’ll miss ya!!! BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Dead. Gone. OH NO SHE ISN’T! SHE’S ALIVE. OH PRAISE JESUS THEY DIDN’T REALLY CRASH LAST NIGHT AND SHE WAS IN THAT BED ACTING LIKE SHE WAS A BUTTON-PUSH AWAY FROM A HOMEGOING CEREMONY!

Scene was subtitles away from telenovela.

End-of-show couple evaluations. Too pissed about the whole fatal-crash gimmick to pay attention.

Fin.

Full disclosure: I’m gonna flip back and forth between #marriagebootcamp episode trois and the Tarheels game for a while..

Oh, so I saw these boot-camp sergeants were consulting the people on that Bachelor show last week. These are the thoughts I use to block out Blanca’s early-morning shower-screeching. I mean, I don’t know the first thing about that show, but somehow, I learned this over the course of the week.

Maybe that means we’re all too plugged in. Or maybe it’s just me. But whatever. Back to the show.

They’re onto that vacant dude Jeff. And they’re reading Tasha wrong; she’s just not right. Touched.

So they dress em all up in paintball gear. This will surely be a test of some urgent nuptial bond. Looks like a mix of sideshow-Cirque and major motion-picture garage-worker casting call.

Bahahahaha. They’re going the zombie-ish route. Virus! Limited resources! WHO WILL LIVE AND WHO WILL DIE!!! But the paintballs are the votes and whatever. They did this last year I think. Shaun’s really contemplating an end-of-world scenario, like what would it be like if he faced life-or-death decisions (delivered with a remedial God-complex sensibility).

Back to Carolina game for a few (damn, Heels are down 2 with 7 minutes left).

Rewind to see they’re going paintballesvly-aggressively tell one another what they REALLY THINK ABOUT THEM!

Oh, they get to pitch themselves.

Shaun gets lit the fuck up. Eight. A couple in the nuts. Those came from Gloria. Says it’s the quickest way to bring a man to his knees. Still don’t like ‘er. Never will. Constantly on edge.

More nut shots.

O AND THEN TASHA GETS RIDDLED. Good. Ain’t nobody would say they didn’t see it coming if she snapped one day. Real talk.*

Then she shoots her man. Train wreck.

Mai-Lee wants zero part of getting shot. This is translated as the equivalent of giving up on her marriage by some Fremont Street illusionist angle. Gloria and Mai-Lee start yelling at each other. Again.

Gloria’s looking forward to the chance to “light her ass up.” Because I guess there’s some Stockholm shit going on where this show becomes a perfect stage upon which to flex muscles best used in masking marrow-level insecurities at fleeting moments when non-diva admissions find the light of clarity, but are never spoken.

Bam. Shots to the face. Wah. Cot damn. This was a shut-up horsehead message.

They all want Julian to step the fuck up and stand his ground. Prolly three quarters right.

Blanca writes the criticisms off to haterade. Prolly about half right.

(Back to Carolina. Tied 77-77, 2.8 seconds left. Carolina at the line. James Michael McAdoo. Bump the clock back up to 3.5. Makes the first. Misses. Rebounds his own miss. Fouled with 1.7 seconds. One and one. Swoosh. Miss. Thru the hands of Providence. Good guys’ ball game. Hell yes, Carolina with the comeback. Down eight with 4 1/2 minutes left. Hell. Yes. TAR. HEELS. TAR. HEELS.)

Now Blanca’s talking smack on Julian. Those conniving hive-minders set this up. Oh, and he knew 10 fucking years ago that she didn’t like to cook. “Let’s use our adult voice,” he says. Baaaaaaaahaaaaaaaa.

Oh, they’re supposed to heed paintball lessons and get all talky about their character flaws during the obligatory sergeantory sessons. Look deep within yourself, Blanca Whateverlastnameling. Go seek out Miss Mofet, an old bootcamper of ours. M-o-f-e-t. Go now, I don’t think Shaun could manage to brawl again quite so soon.

Story sessions about victimhood are exchanged.

Dramatic music.

No father (Gloria). The ugly, nerdy bullying victim who blossoms into angry alcoholism (Shaun). Wrong end of cheating (Mai-Lee). Nothing (Blanca).

Jeff’s getting pep-talked during the commercial clip. He’s white-chocolate bunny interior, there. Then, he’s crying about a special-needs girl when he worked in some law-enforcement capacity. Her parents locked the kid in a closet. Diaper. Sounds like Danieal Kelly. Found string in her stomach when she died. Came from eating a mop in the closet. This is sickeningly horrible.

But now the boot camp guy is talking about basically hypnotizing him into a young child. Or maybe he just talks like a young child. This is just absurd. When people see horrible things, it sticks with them. Even if it ends up being a life parallel in narrative, that’s just happenstance. No causal connection imho. But this is what that all looked like:

I mean, this segment is like words 1,000-1,500 of a true-crime longform profile.

I also mean, this is the perfect place for this episode to be bumping up against the end of its hour

Look ahead: Shaun gets called out for the drinking and for treating his ex better than Sofia and Gloria’s man gets pissed ’cause someone’s washing her feet in the pool.

(*as presented by a reality-TV show, but still)

Any time a reality-TV episode starts with a scene that reminds you of Martin Sheen blasting his fist through a mirror in Apocalypse Now (sans punching a mirror with The Doors scoring that jawn), you know that episode has a chance to be a cray one.

This is where we find ourselves this week.

This episode’s mission: Make people appreciate their spouse’s needs by watching them get hit on via closed-circuit TV (after writing their dreams, hopes and fantasy-lives on a T-shirt; for reasons later exposed, Mark writes “Seek God” on Omarosa-wannabe Gloria’s garment; prayse Jebus).

But not until Blanca tries to be a doting bride by prepping some breakfast fo her mayn. Breakfast would include a bowl of cereal if should figure out how to prepare a bowl of cereal.

It is at this moment that I realize Julian reminds me of a loveable mope in a Pixar movie.

And how Sofia’s genuinely here for the type of help that Shaun is starting to see he needs to provide. (Also, her nostils dance when she cries.)

And Mai-Lee kinda freezes Tomas out cause she always be on edge.

And Tasha won’t take that goddamn pink flower off her mufuhn head.

And thinks-she-sees-through-everything Gloria still thinks she’s the best person on Earth because oh my God she’s so full of herself it’s shocking there’s room for food or liquid inside.

And Jeff wants to get to fuckin’, yo.

Impotence alert: During the commercial break, WeTV shows some sort of clip where Joan Rivers made a faux sex tape. Lawd.

This is a good segue into Blanca asking Shaun whether he likes it when “another doctor touches your balls.”

And Tasha complaining because Jeff was a one-pump-Chuck their wedding night; “I want some penis” she says, offering her “black ass” for some bangin’ on the table where some clearly skeeved-out bootcampeteers sit.

Time for the “Stranger Danger” exercise with some actor(ress)y types out by the pool to do some on of the hittin’.

You can see the steam billowing from Shaun’s ears when some bro smooves up on Sofia poolside. Mai-Lee’s too, because Tomas is talking to “a whore.” Hell, all of ‘em get fired up from this voyeuristic challenge.

That’s when things get reality-show real.

Shaun’s all, like, get away from that bro (but with maturity of lessons learned when he faux killed her last week). Hugs! Tears! YAY!

Mark’s all, like, I’M GONNA STORM OUT THERE AND PUSH THAT DUDE IN THE POOL BECAUSE AIN’T NO MAN TOUCH MY WOMAN OR WASH HER FEET CAUSE I’M'A WHOOP SOME ASS SHOULD THESE AFFRONTS PLAY OUT BEFORE ME!!! Louder, louder than a lion
‘Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar Oh oh oh oh oh oh

This is the scene they’ve used on the previews all week because of course it was. However, if I was WeTV, I’d have used Blanca using the “word” “conversated” in context of Julian conversating with them poolside tramps (one of which they clearly just accepted whatever half-attractive SAG-card carrier was available that day.

OH AN GLORIA ANGRY SO GLORIA GONNA GO IN A CLOSET AND HIT HER MAN.

OH AN BLANCA ANGRY SO BLANCA GONNA GO ON THE LIDO DECK AND THROW THINGS.

So anyway Mark packed his bags and is leaving and Gloria is all whatever “bitch … calm the fuck down” and bitch — who is “a man of God” — is swinging at people and Gloria is swearing on her kids that she’s done. This is what she’s dressed like when she’s swearing on her kids, who will likely be so proud of mama when they see this scene:

From here, it’s the Marriage Boot Camp Sergeant Intervention Segment. Life lessons learned from this exercise. Together We Heal!!!

Except Horrible Person Gloria who can’t let pass any opportunity to belittle her man again, emasculatingly piling on the anger and hate until hugz and tearz make their way on screen.

Nice to see Philly pair Shaun and Sofia growing closer together, though. I gave them short shrift in their Zillas episode. Hope it continues.

Jealous Lady Mai-Lee and Tomas remain under the radar.

Tasha and Jeff continue to skeeve.

All the campeteers gather in the kitchen discussing the days behind them. End scene.

Alright, so they lead into tonight’s episode by showing all them Marriage Boot Camp contestants running through a backyard maze, but it seems like trash bags lining the walls instead of ivy or stone. Even corn. That’s a preview scene. Maybe some of ‘em’ll freeze like Nicholson in The Shining.

They show the highlights of closet fighting. And matching pastels.

Wait, it seems as if Mai-Lee is bitching at Tomas for not helping her clean her shirt or some shit. C’mon.

And Sofia’s bitching at Shaun for his beard or some shit. Drowning comes up. C’mon.

So they’re at the maze. They’re, like, going to race through it with the other half on a CB. A discussion of rights and lefts (particularly the hand signals thereof, like DeSean maybe) ensues.

Is this left?

Angry closet fighters up first. Something ensues I guess.

Shaun gets lost because of course he does. But he and Sofia, but probably mostly the latter, figure it out good (foreshadowing: they’ll end up getting into a scrap about recovery speed).

Tomas and Mai-Lee break sergeantory scrutiny by holding hands.

Tasha and Jeff just skeeve. And then they show a preview of her wilding. If it was to happen — that Nicholson thing — it’d be Jeff. Except, in the role of Danny running into the maze, it’s Tasha.

Well anyway, sergeants are all on the balcony looking down like a catty Caesar. All judging and parallel-drawin’. (Justifiably so in most cases.)

bLanca and Julian have to go still. That goes as you’d expect it to go.

Oh, the whole jawn was a contest for a gourmet dinner or some shit. Shaun and Sofia were the fastest. He wants steaks. She declines the award cause she figured it all out, that gimmick Sofia did. Mai-Lee: You do pretty “well” not pretty “good.” Sorry. Pet peeve.

Julian is chivalrous? They won. And they get to pick a couple to serve them. Tasha and Jeff.

Mai-Lee’s explaining why she’s pissed and Tomas is making faces because something got in his eye he says. Hope he got it out.

Anyway, she does get pissed way too easily. Just keeps pushin and pushin.

Commerical break. THIS comes on:

Anyway, after the break, hot sergeant-lady sighting:

Blanca gets all ‘Jeeves and Mammy, wait on me,’ on Jeff and Tasha, who calls her a “heifer,” I think.

Now they’re onto cosplaying one another. Like, refleprojecting their interpretation of the other’s mind back onto them.

All ripples of perception.

How do you know you see blue the way the person next to you does? Do you ever really? Even if they say you do, and that makes you believe you do, but belief isn’t definitive?

This is turning into some spiteful Big Brother-type gimmickry insofar has geeking up tensions that already sit on edge. Even if it works in a sergeantorialy intended fashion.

Horrible person Gloria is bitching at Shaun and Sofia yapping during that little scene-amid-commercials thing they do in the middle of the commercials with about 15 minutes left in the show. Yawn.

Etc.

Tasha and Jeff are just some weird file-it-away-for-that-day-one-of-em-finally-snaps tidbit ’cause that shit’s happening like sea levels are rising.

Tears and shoves ensue. Hers (both). And then hugs. Aw!

BREAK DOWN: IT WAS ALL ABOUT COMMUNICATION TONIGHT WAS!

Judgment ensues. Gloria reaches, if only slightly, for the racism card but doesn’t pull it from the deck. A bunch of things viewers probably already know from the other couples. Blanca has aged from 2 to 8 in her emotional maturity level assigned to life years. And that’s about it.

This here episode of Marriage Boot Camp Bridezillas is titled “Spouse Swap,” but it’s not as swinger-eyes-wide-shut randy as one might think.

Less key party. More voyeuristic trickery.

I mean, sure, they couch it as “spending the night with someone else’s spouse” and “have you ever wondered if the grass might be greener on the other side of the fence,” but it’s little more than a room share followed up by tasks that expose the Marriage Boot Campeteers to flaws in their relational makeup. Faced by their personal negative trait. What traits do they have that your spouse don’t, for better and for worse and all.

From the get-go, Mai-Lee is off-the-hook cray, the kind of cray that speaks to an inability to ever fully trust again because of being wronged in some fashion in the past.

Anyway, here are the matchups:

☻ Mai-Lee and that guy whose wife Gloria consistently belittles like he’s tiiiied to the cuckolded whipping post (aka Mark)

☻ Shaun and Horrible Person Gloria, who instantly glides into cunty mode by saying her game mate is “a man” while Mark “reminds me of little schoolgirl, kinda”

☻ Tasha and Julian

☻ Sofia and Tomas, and Mai-Lee instantly exposes her fangs because her man got paired with the house hottie

☻ Blanca and Jeff

Mai-Lee, not seven minutes into the episode, is talking about dead-body disposal and how she’s “ready to pack up my bag and leave.” Tomas notes that she really has no reason to be jealous — ever — and it makes him wonder why he’s even still around.

Horrible Person Gloria is already trying to impose rules on Shaun, who has become a prop for her to tell her cuck that maybe he can give her what she needs because he sure as hell hasn’t.

Blanca falls asleep as Jeff or whatever talks about his ideal mate traits.

Camping trip as new couples time! Do tasks for the overall team!

Blanca and Jeff go food shopping (and he loads up on the hot dogs).

Shaun and Horrible Person are sent off to procure camping supplies (and forget to pick up some sleeping bags).

Tasha and Julian put the tents together.

Mai Lee and Mark gather wood and build fires (and do so rather effectively — for a spell).

Sofia and Tomas are in charge of cooking.

Boot Camp Sergeants have this whole NORAD looking room with various camera feeds.

Oh snap, when Mai-Lee asks whether Tomas might could get jealous, he notes that there’s really nothing much to envy about men reminiscent of 12-year-old girls.

Fun Fact No. 2: Philly folks Shaun and Sofia discuss campsite tampon-disposal options before said excursion …

On the van ride to the site, Julian explains snakebite medical-attention delivery services; namely, that if you get bitten by a poisonous snake, “quick, suck the venom out.”

To which Sofia retorts, justifiably, “Mai-Lee will never let Tomas (pronounced Thomas) suck venom out of anything of mine. She’s gonna be like, ‘Die, bitch.’” Here’s what that looked like:

“I think Sofia should be worried,” notes Tomas, with prescience.

They get to the camp. Hot Boot Camp Sergeantress Ilsa is there. See?

Task-completion attempts start as the Head Sergeants note that the aim is for Campeteers to see their own annoying trait in their camping fauxse.

Horrible, Horrible, Horrible Person Gloria chides Shaun for cussing in her presence because “she’s a lady,” which may be true in the physiological sense, but it doesn’t manifest itself through vicious personality traits.

“I’m not going to eat a hot dog,” says Princess Blanca at the market with Jeff. “I don’t like hot dogs.”

This sentiment could make her the most horrible person on the show. I kid, I kid. Nobody is as horrible as Gloria. Not on reality-show TV. Not within the prison-industrial complex. Poor Shaun, having to go buy camping supplies with her.

Then, Tomas and Sofia are skipping stones on the lake. And, yooooooooooo, Mai-Lee don’t be liking this because Tomas never took HER out the lake to skip rocks. WTF, yo?!

To their credit, the Boot Camp Sergeants done set up a good reflection-on-weaknesses chore here.

To her credit, Blanca knew to snag a little wine with their grocery monies (“Because you need alcohol to be around Jeff”). Or, as Fox News would call it, committing food-stamp fraud. And welfare queenery making the WHITE MAN carry all the bags to the car.

Lakeside-battle flare-up sends Tomas stomping off and Sofia in pursuit as Mai-Lee sits there complaining to Mark. Poor dude.

Sofia kinda counsels Tomas after this. Here’s what Mai-Lee thinks Tomas’ mind was on after watching this picnic-table session from afar:

Boobs. She meant that Tomas was thinking about Sofia’s amply-enhanced bosom. And who knows; maybe he was.

Shaun and Horrible Person Gloria take justifiable heat for forgetting the sleeping bags.

Mai-Lee is still going at Tomas’ throat because of perceived flirtation with Sofia. He stomps off after removing his mic kit. And blows up. Just like the lady Sergeant says he does. Of course, this is reason enough for Horrible Person Gloria to yell things at Mai-Lee from afar. Because why not be a judgmental, husband- and “foe”-belittling prickess at every turn. Please, WeTV, never again with this lady.

Anyway, screamy-yelly stuff turns into institutionally-hued co-ed bathroom heartfelt discussions between the pair.

“I don’t care no more. I want to go home,” says Tomas, who doesn’t go home, of course, but he and jellybride are warned that if they act like they been acting that day, they will be asked to leave the set for good.

This, mind you, was abbreviated in commercials and teases to make it seem as if someone had been voted off the proverbial island or out of the Big Brother house or whatever competitive reality-show eviction analogy comes to mind. Oh noes.

Anyway, next week’s episode involves stripping down and exposing skin. Also, there’s puppets involved in sex talk and Jeff is noting that a “pickle” likes “to be sucked.”

Jesus Christ. Horrifying.

When you have a son pushing four, you may very well watch a lot of Bob the Builder and Jake and the Neverland Pirates and the like. What I’m worried about is the Bootcampeteers talking sex via puppets. And that those puppets will resemble, in any fashion, and of the Octonauts.

If these people sully Tunip‘s reputation, like this, all bets are off. I mean this.

And they’re all talking sex, or lack thereof, or standing off in the corner of the kitchen without puppets. And then the sergeants are talking. Can’t even focus on it, so worried about this puppet show.

The cast is announced:

Hot dog. Taco. Doughnut. Pickle. Flower. Bumblebee.

They fucking call the hot dog “Mr. Weenie,” so this is a picture of Mr. Weenie getting told by a pink doughnut with jimmies on top that “a man needs to earn sex” …

Taco wants its hair pulled by the Pickle; the Pickle wants the lights on.

Doughnut II and MWII. Something something.

Bumblebee and Flower are goofy. Awkward.

Oh, there’s a commercial for the Marriage Boot Camp with reality “stars.” Won’t be watching that.

And then the bumblebee, it’s said by Flower, doesn’t want to have sex ever. Awkwarder. Look …

Right? Gets even -erer.

Then, the folks who could take a run at Tunip are up. The robotic pickle from above gets to talking to TII. TII wants a back rub first and the like. Which is well within her rights. RP is on a wonkaesque quest for blowjobs, waving the puppet almost serpentine with his arm. RP speaks like, say, in a creepy tone akin to central-casting carney. It’s clean. Stick it in there.

RP just adores blowjobs. TII wants everything from rose petals to cuffs and collars. Somewhat unexpected. Nowhere near as creepy as RP, by clear margins.

They take the bros off for lapdance training. (Instructors below)

They take the gals off for makeovers. How empowering.

They make the dudes give each other lap dances. How empowering.

They’re sounding like they’re going to try to make MW bend to the will of a PDJoT, a horrible puppet. They bought in. Cred dent.

Anyway, they parade the ladies down the stairs in the least stereotypical segment in American reality-television history. Then, the flower said this about Jersey Shore …

LBI and south rules, flower.

PDJoT is playing everyone.

Contrived scenarios. Contrived words. Contrived soundtrack.

Shots shots shots shotsshots. Whoa, 142m hits?

Oh, lapdances.

Time for hockey. Tunip’s fine.

Jump, Bridezilla Sofia, Jump!

Seem to be some intimations that Sofia didn’t get none. (I turned the show off early on account of puppet disgust, so this might not be news to anybody who watched the whole episode).

Out at the pool, that horrible lady is hearkening back to her man shoving some actor dude into the pool for touching or washing her feet or whatever. She just keeps digging and digging and digging. About what, who cares. Insufferable.

Boot Camp Sergeants (BCS) are playacting again. Making the Campeteers face their inner demons. Specifically, who they need most to forgive.

Horrible lady remains unwatchable, even if she pulls the never-knew-my-dad card. (A religious fixation — and words that purportedly point to a breakthrough — don’t mask a corroded, bitter, self-important soul.)

Those mentioned: Fathers (Mark, Tomas). An ex-girlfriend (Shaun/Sofia, with hot sarge in the role of “ex” initially). Julian gets a negashout-out (for pre-marriage infidelity)! An ex-wife (squeak-talker Jeff, brought to tears).

Then, Mai-Lee’s up and what she says is “I don’t know how to forgive someone at all. I don’t think I’ve forgiven anyone, anywhere, anytime in my life.” Tomas is “not surprised,” as she throws six-year-old beefs at him inexplicably. BCS Bro slides into ex-boyfriend role, though.

M-L remains unforgiving. Ice, yo. And that’s why she and Tomas have to stick around after class for “not normal” behavior. Her mission: Forgive erthing he’s done in the past six years (“stupid stuff,” says Tomas), but she ain’t be thinking that’ll happen so everybody else best not be expecting it to.

The respective couples are off on their own discussing matters for which they need to grant (or seek) forgiveness. This is when Shaun admits that the ex “made me hate women.” It’s such an awkward thing to say. Deep-seated issues.

But before much thought can be put into it, we’re off to Difficult Task Of The Night!!! preparation.

IT’S FAUX FIRE TIME! WOOT!

TWO PARTNERS ENTER THE BURN ZONE, ONLY ONE CAN LEAVE!

ULTIMATE SACRIFICE FOR LOVE WHEN YOUR HOME IS ENGULFED IN FLAMES!

EXTREME EXPERIENCE TIME!!!!!!

THIS IS WHY THEY CALLED THE EPISODE “LEAP OR DIE FRYING”!!!!!

But not before they can kinda, you know, chat it out because it’s not like real fires are fast moving or anything. Dear God. This is as contrived as that whole death-bed gimmick from Episode II.

Here is a list of the “dead” vs. the “survivors” (as bo-hunk “firefighters” look on from the inflated jump cushion) …

Dead: Shaun, Tomas, Jeff, Julian, Mark

Survive: Sofia, Mai-Lee, Tasha, Blanca, Horrible Lady

AW CHIVALRY IS ALIVE! FIVE GENTLEMEN DIED SO THEIR LADYFOLK COULD LIVE!!!!

Listen, I don’t know what it’s like to be on a reality show, let alone a reality show after a realty show in which I was involved in a berzerker wedding that led to the need for public-airing of nuptial grievances. But these folks must be some dense mopes if they’re not acting when they buy into the gimmickry’s life-or-death-edness.

Entirely underwhelming episode. Here’s hoping they ramp back up to crazytown for the remaining two pre-reunion hours, yo.