Oh for fuck’s sake. They open the show’s preview with one of the guards putting a gun on the table after saying, “Think your life’s worth saving?”
Wait. It’s a paintball gun. There will be a life lesson because of that gun. That paintball gun.
FWIW, this show’s making me just want to wake up when the first episode of Big Brother 15 starts. June 26.
Like, I just zoned out of the show to look up what date BB15 premiered.
Ok, so they’re all heading out into gunplayland. Apocalypse. “AN APOCALYPSE FANTASY SCENARIO”!
Just zoned out to search for “AN APOCALYPSE FANTASY SCENARIO” on YouTube and this was there.
Tune back in and Chris calling out Rob Sportsguy’s ignorance, and how that would play out in an apocalypse setting. And then Rob Sportsguy threatens to kick “fucking asses” if they shoot paintballs at Rob. But he’s all like, fucking whatever, who cares, pfft, MAADDIBRO RULES.
The game’s shoot if you got an issue then say what that issue is. Buncha people say a bunch of stuff and a buncha people get shot at and talked to.
Nobody shot Danni, yo; Porsha’s boy Byron got lit up. Maaddibro jumps up and says Princess ain’t taking a paintball. Now Remy or Remi is playacting tears before she gets lit up. Because she’s mean. And he’s mean, too. And you gotta step up, girl. I wish these two weren’t from around Philly. Because that means people who act like this are from around Philly.
Kirsten has proven herself to be even more looned up than I reckoned she would by week three. She’s crazy. And no one’s as crazy as you around here, says Melissa. And you’re fake, says Princess Remi or Remy of Wish It Wasn’t Around Philly.
One to grow on moment: You were talking to yourself when you were talking to that person. Or something. I don’t know. I’m still waiting for this picture to show up:
Chris and Debbie Gibson are squabblin about potatoes or eggs or something. And go get em yourself, Debbie, well, Melissa, who says she’s going home now. Ain’t. No. Joke. Stay if you want, bro. Fuck you, yo. DGAF. Anyway, editing like they’re brawling. But they’re not showing anything to make it look like they ain’t. She’s saying he’s playing tough guy. Acting like it.
Anyway, when they’re with the guards or counselors or captors or whatever they’re called, it’s kinda hard to tell who’s the couples there for legit purposes and the famewhore set. That whole thing’s shifted to two/three now. Oh, so I’m just gonna fast forward through the group name-your-family-shame session. BLAME. PARENTS. ALWAYS. Though the Debbie Gibson parespill was hardcore. Good stuff. Bad mom. You were. I ain’t. Word.
Oh, the guards are acting like human Ouija Board to be the person they want to lay into.
Like, channeling people.
Like, fucking gypsies on the A.C. Boardwalk between Bally’s and the Taj Mahal [1].
Oh, Porsha — spinoff seeker — gets surprised by her dad showing up. I think it’s her dad. I’m not going to rewind to catch it up.
I really wish one of them — probably Kirsten most than any others — would have rolled into Danny Torrance’s whole I have a friend Tony who lives in my mouth schpiel.
Porsha’s crying, though. Loud. Dad — presumptive — apologizes. Maybe they can leave the show now.
[1] When I worked down in A.C., on the crime beat for the Press of Atlantic City, there was this guy who called. Said he wanted to defect and rat other gypsies out. Nothing ever came of it. Gypsies never done wrong by me. But it’s one of those remember-forever bits of career trivia.