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October 24, 2000 Self-Twitterpated David loves women. Actually, he loves one specific aspect of womanhood, and that is "booty." David just adores "booty," and he has to produce the next episode of "The Real 7 at 77." Why not mix the two things together, rather like chocolate and peanut butter are mixed in a peanut butter cup? Of course, instead of emphasizing the whole "booty" aspect and getting a triple-X rating, David calls his efforts a "fashion show." But our naif Julie isn't fooled for one second; she sarcastically notes that she's looking forward to seeing David's "ho's" parading around looking "skank." Heavens to Betsy, I feel like I'm writing a whole new language! Julie tries to broaden the appeal of the whole proceedings by suggesting the addition of male models to the "fashion" show, but David pretty clearly isn't interested in other people's advice. He brushes her off, and even tries to dodge Mr. Big himself, Elton. Elton, however, is much more persistent and reminds David that without the support of his housemates, the show won't happen. And then New Orleans won't get to see yet more "models" showing off yet more "booty." And that would be a pity. And the show already seems to be in trouble, even without a housemate rebellion. A very scared, trembly "model" shows up on the doorstep of the Belfort mansion and spills the beans about David's monstrous lack of organization. Twenty models for the show? Try five! Outfits by an actual designer? Nope, everyone plans to just wear their very own clothes. "And we've seen the outfits in this town," meows Melissa. The situation is not looking so good, mes petites chous! David is finally forced to admit that the "fashion show" idea was a disaster. But, this go-getter is turning life's lemons into lemonade. He asks Elton about the television station's stripping policy, and then decides to feature "models" parading around in swimsuits. Elton pleads with David to let his housemates know about his Spandex-clad and silicon-enhanced plans. David finally does, as late as possible (to ensure that they won't actually get to contribute any ideas). Now all the housemates have to do is watch the swimsuits saunter by and "be nice," thereby taking all the fun out of the enterprise. Once showtime arrives, David is so confident that he starts referring to himself in the third person. Even Melissa admits that David's set is lovely, albeit breakable. Just to make sure everything turns out right, David advises his "models" on the best poses. That's more advice than Matt and Kelley get; they're forced to ad lib their commentary AND be nice. Sheesh! They end up talking a lot about "functionality" and trying not to giggle at the bounteous bosoms and buttocks. David did tell his housemates that the swimsuit parade would have both female and male "models." Well, there are plenty of the former: Tiger and Honey and so on and so on. However, there is only one male model, and he is David! David loves his role as master of the harem, kissing the camera and flexing his "quadominals," as Kelley calls them. Seeing David saunter around in baggy shorts and a bath towel was almost funnier than seeing the lady fall down off her big sparkly shoes! Elton gives David the benefit of the doubt (that "model" MEANT to fall down! Those awkward pauses are funny in an ironic, campy way!), and sprinkles kudos liberally around the room afterwards. Darlings, I think the Big Guy is getting soft. Oh where, oh where is that growly, grumpy Elton of old? Nowadays, the kids could film themselves clipping their toenails, and Elton would probably think it was genius. David is certainly willing to apply the G-word to himself. He rambles on and on about how phenomenal he is, and how it just is so unfair that "everyone just wants to hate on [him]." Julie's had just about enough of Mr. Universe, and tells him that his arrogance is what everyone hates about (or, in David's words, "on") him. David defends his "confidence," to which Julie retorts, "Dude, you can be confident without being a jackass!" Julie just wants five minutes of David's time, to get to know him better, but David can't even stand still that long. He's on the move, goshdarnit, to greater and greater degrees of megalomania! Julie responds by making a quick, heated exit from the conversation. David observes, "Whenever I talk to people, they slam doors." Hmmm As much as David would like the entire show to be about him, he must share this episode with Matt. A very smitten Matt no less. One magic evening, Matt is hanging out with general hanger-on Lionel (first he was Melissa's pal, then Matt's?) and Melissa at "The Red Room," and he spies a very special young lady across the room. Matt likes Brandy's shiny smile and marvels at her sophistication and intelligence; she is officially "a cool chick" in his lexicon. So, he does what any right-thinking young man would do in his situation Matt leaves Brandy his website address. Now this must be a steamy story, mes amis! His roommates think it's hilarious that Matt is both so infatuated and so ineffectual. Melissa comments that Matt wants chocolate in his milk (which only served to make me hungry), and Julie calls Matt "twitterpated." So twitterpated is young Matt, my sweets, that he checks his website guestbook first thing the next morning. There is indeed a message waiting for Matt, but it's not all hearts and flowers. Instead, Matt is said to "seem nice," but to in actuality belong to the same Internet-savvy camp as "pedophiles and assholes." Ouch. But, Matt's not going to give up. He's still "amped" that this "rad" girl signed his guestbook at all! Dude! She could tell him to go to hell, my loves, and he would still be "amped," as long as the hate mail was in his guestbook. Matt manages to get Brandy's phone number from Lionel, and after some quaking in his boots, gives the P.Y.T. a call. His kooky sunglasses provide no protection from a hard fate. Brandy tells him she already has a boyfriend, and here's the kicker: she didn't sign his silly guestbook! She caps off the conversation with a "How did you get my number?" and we officially have a romantic failure. Matt then must mope all over the designer furniture. So, who sent the message? Who was the diabolical soul who played with Matt's (nonexistent) love life in this way? Julie makes Melissa pinky swear not to tell Matt that she was the mystery correspondent. And when she finally reveals the truth to Matt, she discovers a very angry, very hurt young man. According to Julie, she meant it as a good-natured joke, but Matt's not so sure about this claim. One would have to be either malicious, or exceedingly clueless to think that such a stunt would not be hurtful. Is this Julie's vengeance against a romantically indifferent Matt? Julie says she would've done this to anyone of her housemates. So, if anyone out there is moving in with Julie, be wary. Be very wary. Did You Know? Remember Colin from "Real World Hawaii" and his burgeoning acting career? Yeah, no one else does either. That's why Colin is now co-authoring love and relationship books for lonely teens. Who's Shirtless: David's shirtless and lovin' it! Who Cries: Not a single tear this week, dearies. Unless you count tears of laughter. Most Annoying: You know what? At first, I was going to nominate Julie, after that whole fake guestbook episode. But Monsieur David just stole the show with his extreme self-absorption. Best Quote: David warns Elton, "The more you start dippin, the more it's going to be some other recipe, dude." A classic! Mystery of the Week: Is that Jamie's adopted street urchin in the back of the car, when David and Julie have their spat? Next Week: Julie swaps spit with some boy, and David
becomes the center of attention again!
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