Tuesday, January 28, 2003
Classic.
That's the only way to describe last night's episode of Joe Millionaire. Absolutely fucking brilliant. I laughed. I cried (from laughing so hard). Seriously, this episode should be nominated for an Emmy. Some highlights, for those of you who missed it.
Downtown, things will be brighter there
Many props to the brilliant camera guys who, rather than follow Evan and Sarah on their wine-soaked romp in the woods, bet on the chance that they'd be too stupid to turn their microphones off, thus prompting them to give us more action than we'd ever get to (or want to) see in front of the camera. (After all, this is Joe Millionaire, not Real World: Las Vegas.) Note to Evan and Sarah: It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's going on when Evan's doing a lot of (slurp)ing and Sarah's doing a lot of ahhhing. We all read the Starr report.
Finally, Doug has a real girl to fantasize about
The whole Zora-as-Disney-princess sequence was hilarious. It's so refreshing to see a primetime reality dating show that doesn't take itself so seriously. Joe Millionaire knows that it's inherently cheesy, and it capitalizes on that. I just wonder if Snow White would have been so modest as to wear a tank top in the hot tub.
She works hard for her money
Melissa claims that if she inherited $50 mil, she would go to a Third World country and bathe their children because she's "a mercenary type of person." Hmmm...something tells me she meant to say missionary. Melissa, darling, here's today's vocabulary lesson, courtesy of dictionary.com:
mer·ce·nar·y (mûrs-nr) adj.
Motivated solely by a desire for monetary or material gain.
Ohhh, the unintentional irony! She's lucky Evan's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, or she wouldn't be sporting that shiny ruby right now.
Nooooojo
Mojo, Mojo, Mojo. Did you not read last month's Glamour? Repeat after me: Homemade gifts scare guys. HOMEMADE GIFTS SCARE GUYS. Oh, and you could take a poetry lesson from Ryan on The Bachelorette. True, he's no Wordsworth, but at least he abides by the first rule of poetry: Any poem that mentions butterflies is doomed from the get-go. Mojo's downward spiral was truly like a car wreck: incredibly painful, yet I couldn't look away.
And then there's Paul. I love Paul. I love how he swirls his brandy. I love how he still gets his jabs in at Heidi, even though she was eliminated, in a blaze of bad French, two episodes ago. I love the condescending glance he gave the Mojo puzzle. In a word, classic.
That's the only way to describe last night's episode of Joe Millionaire. Absolutely fucking brilliant. I laughed. I cried (from laughing so hard). Seriously, this episode should be nominated for an Emmy. Some highlights, for those of you who missed it.
Downtown, things will be brighter there
Many props to the brilliant camera guys who, rather than follow Evan and Sarah on their wine-soaked romp in the woods, bet on the chance that they'd be too stupid to turn their microphones off, thus prompting them to give us more action than we'd ever get to (or want to) see in front of the camera. (After all, this is Joe Millionaire, not Real World: Las Vegas.) Note to Evan and Sarah: It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what's going on when Evan's doing a lot of (slurp)ing and Sarah's doing a lot of ahhhing. We all read the Starr report.
Finally, Doug has a real girl to fantasize about
The whole Zora-as-Disney-princess sequence was hilarious. It's so refreshing to see a primetime reality dating show that doesn't take itself so seriously. Joe Millionaire knows that it's inherently cheesy, and it capitalizes on that. I just wonder if Snow White would have been so modest as to wear a tank top in the hot tub.
She works hard for her money
Melissa claims that if she inherited $50 mil, she would go to a Third World country and bathe their children because she's "a mercenary type of person." Hmmm...something tells me she meant to say missionary. Melissa, darling, here's today's vocabulary lesson, courtesy of dictionary.com:
mer·ce·nar·y (mûrs-nr) adj.
Motivated solely by a desire for monetary or material gain.
Ohhh, the unintentional irony! She's lucky Evan's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, or she wouldn't be sporting that shiny ruby right now.
Nooooojo
Mojo, Mojo, Mojo. Did you not read last month's Glamour? Repeat after me: Homemade gifts scare guys. HOMEMADE GIFTS SCARE GUYS. Oh, and you could take a poetry lesson from Ryan on The Bachelorette. True, he's no Wordsworth, but at least he abides by the first rule of poetry: Any poem that mentions butterflies is doomed from the get-go. Mojo's downward spiral was truly like a car wreck: incredibly painful, yet I couldn't look away.
And then there's Paul. I love Paul. I love how he swirls his brandy. I love how he still gets his jabs in at Heidi, even though she was eliminated, in a blaze of bad French, two episodes ago. I love the condescending glance he gave the Mojo puzzle. In a word, classic.
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