Have you ever tasted, I can’t Believe it’s Not Butter? Oh, my babies, that spray made me cough up a toast chunk in the same manner a cat would cough up a fur ball. Another cat’s fur ball. And/or as I am human, a fur ball from the chest of Will Ferrell. Or Robin Williams. Or *insert pasty male actor with inexplicable abundance of chest fur*. Why do I know of this sensation? I am forbidden to say by a court of law. But let's just say, no one likes to be ambushed outside of a Chik-Fil-A. Least of all Robin Williams, otherwise known as "the plaintiff". Anyhow, it’s tough to convince yourself that a fluorescent yellow spray-on paint is the equivalent of gorging on an abundance of butter pats. At least not without washing down some Quaaludes. And then not only is it amazingly buttery, but it also has a hint of rainbows and unicorns! I’m kidding. I jest. I kid. But we’re on week three of the diet, and it’s only getting harder for the peeps to force themselves to stick to their hard core diets. Especially with the temptations in store for them. Let us review.
It is morning on the ranch, ponies frollick and Kelly of the red team wakes up with that hideous feeling that something horrific is missing. Is it oxygen? Her spleen? (Images of Urben Legends and ice-filled bathtubs rack my brain). No. Tis neither. Lizzeth is gone for good, and for Kelly, it’s as if the sun has been blighted from the sky.
But it hasn’t. The sun still shines, and all the soon-to-be-hotter people merge in the kitchen. Into one, enormous person. No. But they await the trainers who arrive mysteriously together. Could there be a budding romance between Jillian and Bob? No. Probably not. But for my fantastical purposes, let’s pretend that there is. So they arrive. Shirts askew, and hair tossled, as if they’d just emerged from the hay outside, already finished with their own “work out”. *wink, wink*
Clearly satisfied, Jillian’s hard edge softens into a fuzzy edge. She finally realizes she may have been working her peeps too hard. They plateaued early, and she blames herself (not really, but *I* blame her) for their lowly weight loss last week. She decides not to starve them, and adds calories to their diet with the added bonus of more rest. Ha! More on that lie later.
She tells them their new plan will consist of protein and fruit for breakfast, such as cottage cheese and an apple, or eggs and a grapefruit. At lunch, it will be a protein salad, light on the protein. (Read: pinky-sized and/or not worth crap.) They’ll also be snacking more, and adding more low calorie versions of foods they like. People like Matt are nervous, as he GAINED 3 pounds last week. But Ryan is convinced he’ll at least lose 7 pounds this week.
Bobby blue oddly becomes more aggressive post hay-roll/romp, and tells his team that no freakin’ way, no changes for his team. And blue-team Kelly expresses her distaste for that by complaining about all the parts of her body that hurt, basically everything from her toes to her lobe muscles. Gary is less pleased with this as well, as he has a boo boo on his knee. He tried to work through the pain, but it got worse. Bob tells us that he doesn’t want to push his peeps too hard, because if they’re injured and have to sit out, it could hurt the weigh in.
More working out with the various peeps commences. We get special red team views of sweating and heavy breathing and sadly, not that kind. No fire swallowing or gnome tossing either, so this scene is a waste. Except to give us some random complaints and a forshadow: Gary wants to see his wife right now, and this is all grueling in the most grueliest of all gruely ways. <-----first gratuitous use of the word “gruel.”
David of team red walks into the foyer and sees two things on the table: a box and a phone. Next to the box is a note that says, “eat this and…” next to the phone it says, “and get a two minute call.” They pull off the lid and underneath is a huge cinnabon with drooly frosting. Thick frosting. Like stucco. Only much tastier. And less wind and weather resistant. Or that would be one, powerful, muffin.
Unimportant aside: Just looking at that cinnabon makes me think: Frosting is depressingly calorie-laden. Stupid, mo fo frosting makers. *mind drifts towards surprisingly non-sexy fantasies…for a change…where sheet cakes the size of French doors expand in front of my vision. And I have a fork the size of a shovel.* Because my mouth is huge. Okay, no, it’s tiny. I’m serious. 4 years of braces, people. Tiny mouth. Here. And I am rambling. But the point is, the tempting treats on the show make ME drool as well.
So people see the cinnabon. Craziness ensues. And by “craziness”, I mean everyone sits around and thinks. Out loud. It’s wacky. Everyone wants to talk to their loved ones. When Mo says if the call was ten minutes instead of two, he’d do it, Gary forcibly tells him, “you’re gonna have to get through me to get to that cake.” Pffft. Tiny-compared-to-Mo Gary barks up the wrong tree, but Mo, tired, decides not to toss him in the air like a rake.
Soon there is a knock at the door. Gary answers it and brings in a wicker, oh-so-Red-Riding-Hood basket. In the basket is a note that tells them that they now have 15 minutes to decide. Oh…and the phone call allotment has been upped to ten minutes instead of two. People freak. Which consists of a lot of “Oh my God’s” and head grabbing and someone throwing a chair into the wall like the Incredible Hulk.
After everyone talks about how much they really, really, really, want to do it, and might do it, somehow, no one ends up stuffing in the cinnabon-y goodness. With thirty seconds to spare, there’s another knock at the door. This time David gets the basket. He opens it and his eyes pop open, as if viewing the Holy Grail and/or whatever was in that trunk in the movie, Repo Man. But alas, it is not an alien life form: only paper. A note that congratulates them all on resisting temptation and their reward: 5 minute calls for everyone!! Everyone cheers. Some people do the wave. There is a feeling of sunshine and skittles-rainbows in the air. Ryan, Mr. I-like-to-tell-really-stupid-ass-jokes…actually weeps, showing his softer, non-turd side.
The phone calls:
Lisa of team red tells an unknown person she misses them. Awesome footage. Woo. Hoo.
Matt talks to his mom and weeps. She freaks out, he freaks out, and waterworks ensue.
Aaron, Mr. Too Hawt 4 TV: the worst possible nightmare. He calls home and gets…………the freakin’ answering machine! As I sit there and hear him plead for someone to please pick up, and that he can’t believe this is happening, I curse NBC on his behalf and marvel at their amazing coordination ability. But finally, finally, a groggy-sounding man named, “Darrell” answers the phone. Darrell sounds beyond excited, in that, “I have a hangover” way. Apparently, he’s Aaron’s brother-in-law. He mentions a new baby to Aaron and Aaron tells us it’s hard to be there without his homies/family/Shazzer wrapped tightly in his manly arms.
Ryan: weeps. Says it was awesome to hear his wife’s voice while they both start crying. He says his wife is his biggest supporter, and says that talking to her for even five minutes is a treat. Awww. That’s the love talkin’, Mr. Suddenly-Non-Turd.
Gary: another sweetie McTweetie. He wants to talk to his wife first and foremost. They both love each other’s voices and have special and delicious chemistry. He misses her terribly, she misses him too, and they both start crying. She emotionally tells him, “you’re a piece of me,” and my lip starts to quiver in romantic glee. He tells her he misses her so much. It is so hard to be away from the love of your life, and he tells us that his wife is his closest companion. I’m touched.
The Land of Pointy-ness and Pain
Jillian’s little plan from earlier, where she says she’s totally going to let them rest and relax on enormous, silky pillows whilst bon bons are fed to them by trained goats…is all over. No rest for the weary. Instead, they will climb Mount Kilimanjaro today, and/or as she states it: “hill running.” She gestures towards a mountain that is quite pointy.
One look at Mount Doom, and Lisa says no effin’ way. She struggles with cardio the most. Jillian says this is her attempt to “mix it up” and add some “flavah flave”. The weary red team struggles up the mountain, next to what appear to be, in some regions, known as “grapes”. The prettiness of the purple orbs does nothing to dissuade them from the misery of mountain running. Yes, many people do mountain climbing/hiking, but these people are running. Up. Hill. Matt is pissed and cursing, and Ryan is bleeding. He shows us a gouge in his leg which he claims came from “Jillian’s fangs.” I do not blink.
One Single, Silent Tear
When you cast for a show with heavy-set people who want to drop pounds, you think of several things: age. How much they weigh. How long they’ve had a weight problem. And whether they can dance and sing like merry squirrels. How lythe and nimble are they? Can they pop and lock like mo fos? (Because mo fos are known for their popping and locking.) Can they belt out a Dionne Warwick tune with emotion, clutching the air and weeping through the lyrics? Or is that just me? The show seeks to find out. In the foyer is their upcoming challenge on an enormous poster board. It’s “Oversized Popstar”, a song and dance competition with judges. Kelly voices my thoughts, “are you f**king kidding me?” Alas, they are not. Attached to the poster is a cd that contains three songs. Each team must choose a song and create an original song and dance to go with it. But….it has to be about being overweight. Score.
Matt is completely psyched and beams out his joyhood. Everyone else: embarrassed. Ryan tells the red team that Matt should be the leader, and Kelly voices what everyone feels: irritation that Ryan should insinuate that Matt should lead because he’s gay. Ryan defends himself by saying he’s seen Matt’s moves, and knows he can do it. Everyone else, remains mute and stares at him blankly. Kind of how my co-workers stare at me when I go on and on about my love of men with really, really, tight perms and chest fur, shaved into patterns.
Team blue’s prep includes Gary saying he can do old school dancing, but not much more. Square dancing, anyone? He proceeds to demonstrate a jazzy little number with rolling hands and double thumbs. Ahh. The magic of double thumbs. It is gold. He points and jabs at the air while we all remain transfixed at the screen.
Soon the peeps are all at the “Biggest Loser Theater” *echo, echo*. Wait. Comedians. Stage named after show. I’m having flashbacks to Last Comic Standing. And inexplicably…..the Vietnam War. Caroline Rhea greets them on stage in a camouflage poncho, and barks at them to “move, maggots, MOVE!!” OKay, maybe not. The house lights flicker on and we see masses of little, cute, I-have-a-hot-date tables sprinkled all over the theater. Everyone is freaked and nervous while Caroline let’s them know that the huge, massive, audience will be voting which team will win. What the winning team receives: Immunity (yes, Survivor reference. Deal.), and a gourmet dinner prepared by the Calorie Commando: Juan Carlos, chef to the stars. The losers will not only have to viciously eat one of their own, but they’ll lose their trainer on the most important workout day: the day before the weigh in. *gasp* Nooo!!! Somewhere, in the distance, a mime cries.
When It's Time To Cha-ange! <---*voice cracking ala Peter Brady*
Please don’t rap if you’re not a rapper. I’m looking at you, Mr. Random-pro-football-player-who-suddenly-goes-gansta. Ahh..the hardships of multi-million dollar bling. But I digress. I prefer bad singing to bad rapping. But that’s just me. And this recap is going long. So I shall hustle it through the super-stretched extra-long juicy fruit footage. It’s time for both teams to perform, and everyone is freakishly nervous. Jillian and Bob share a table in the audience. *cough* They look cozy. Very cozy. <---(Insinuation). Soon they will be wrapped tightly, like a funnel cake, their sinewy limbs entwined and groping…as if they can’t find their keys..and they’ve hidden them…on each other.
The blue crew goes first. They turn their song into a rap. Oh God no not a rap. Yes. I can think of things that are good homemade. Pies. Sweaters. Moon shine. But not rap. Oh no. I must relent that it requires some skill, and they….well they’re not rappers. But they must work with what they’ve got, and shake it, they do. All wearing Fedoras, everyone gets a chance to belt out a piece of the song. Mo starts, Gary thrusts his giblets at us mid-song, and Kelly takes us out, trilling. They get a standing ovation, and Jillian and Bob pull away from one another’s luv clutches to put their hands together and applaud. The blue crew feels great, and Andrea says it was exhilarating writing about an experience she’s going through.
The Red team’s performance entails almost the same identical thing, but Matt is wearing an Elton John-esque sparkly red number and sunglasses, and both Kelly and Lisa rock the hizzouse by cartwheeling rather admirably across the stage. I’m thinking Jillian’s evil training style is paying off. All reds look limber, flexible, and ready for Solid Gold, the movie ™ Even Ryan manages to nearly break dance by leaping onto the floor and rocking his body like a see saw.
Everyone thinks they did great, the crowd is wowed, and we’re all atwitter with joy and happiness over their confidence in their newer bodies. Aaron, always the positive hottie, says that what they all did together just proved that they had more self-confidence then what they thought they had. *cue cartoon birds landing on his outstretched arms*
After Caroline instructs the audience to vote via enormous remote controls, the results are in. Winning, with 77 percent of the vote is……………the red team!! They leap and bound on stage like wiggly puppies and Jillian looks like she’s actually crying with pride for her amazing red peeps.
The blue team reacts backstage with Bob. Kelly’s proud of what they’ve done, and all think Bob’s speech is inspiring. Bob’s speech consists of insisting, emotionally, that they must win the weigh in. He doesn’t want to lose a single one of them. He insists that no one go home on this team, and Mo promises him no one will. Gary says he’s an emotional wreck and begins crying. To finish, Mo puts on the fedora again and asks Bob, “Does this hat make me look fat?” Bob laughs, but alas, they must release him into the wild, like a humanely caught chipmunk. The scene ends with Bob pressing himself against the glass in the door, like an errant starling, smacking himself silly.
Tavern on the Green versus a
The red team ends up on stage again, where a huge, elaborate table is set up, and chef Juan Carlos Cruz greets them. He’s an affable chap <---sudden British, who tells them if they think he doesn’t know what it’s like to lose weight, they are wrong. Majorly wrong. And he holds up a picture of himself in a chef uniform, 70 pounds heavier. Everyone is wowed, and Juan tells us that he’s not one of those skinny people who’s always giving unwelcome advice.
Everyone dines on tuna tar tar with saki soaked mangos, and other things that are unmentioned to us. Everyone wows over the four course meal and David toasts Kelly and Lisa, giving the victory to them.
The blue team is not gorging on sea creatures soaked in booze. Instead, they are workin’ it all night long. They’re on machines, they’re jogging in unison, and all voice various degrees of the same thing: they can do this without Bob, and they’ll just pretend as if he’s there in spirit. Aaron goes so far as to insist there’s a mini-Bob atop his shoulder, telling him what to do. Wouldn’t that be cool? I imagine a talking puppet, and I smile.
It’s time to kick some ass, and Jillian is the main punter. We’re greeted with massive footage of her beating the crap out of her team. Lisa says she’s so tired she doesn’t want to work out anymore, but does so anyway. Lisa complains when Jillian asks her to do five more of a shoulder press, and Jillian tells her to hush up and cram it. In nicer terms. Lisa and Kelly end up on the floor doing sit-ups, and Jillian warns them if they ever complain again, she’s going to make them do 50 more. All Lisa has to do is lift her weak, withered little head off the mat and pant, “50?” and Jillian barks, “now it’s 100.” From somewhere inside her spandex, Lisa pulls out a tazer and electrifies Jillian. Jillian lies on the floor while the rest of the red team eats a feast of ho hos around her twitching form.
After the fictitious Gladiator-style tazer fight, Jillian spends time pep talking Matt, who is afraid to weigh himself after gaining 3 pounds last week. He states the fears of every dieter: he doesn’t want to go on the scale anymore if it’s not going to show results. He’d rather go by mirrors and clothes sizes. He doesn’t want his mood to be a slave to the scale. Jillian tells him and us that dieting is not a straight path, and that there will always be pitfalls and plateaus, and reminds him that in two weeks he’s lost 19 pounds of real weight. An emotional Matt accepts Jillian’s rare showing of cuddlyness, and agrees to go to the scales again.
Hooray for Boobies!
It’s el dia para the weigh in and Gary has mixed feelings. He doesn't know whether to choose Charmin, or Chambly. And he's got a bum knee, and feels guilty for being there, but not guilty enough to high tail it to the land of unlimited access to ding dongs. He wants to lose as much weight as possible. Mo and Kelly both independently express that the money doesn’t matter as much as their health, and Kelly says she’s been skinny before, but has never seen that much money before, and would prefer the skinniness. Ryan says he feels like a winner just for what he’s accomplished in the last three weeks, and Aaron echoes the “we’re all winners” chit chat. He doesn’t want to send anyone home.
In the weigh-in room, Caroline greets them for their visit to the cruel, cold, evil scales. Let’s get right on down to the weights.
Lisa red: 12 pounds. All are shocked, including Mo.
Gary blue: 7 pounds. He hasn’t been down to around 200 in years.
Kelly red: 10 pounds. Her expectations: blown through the roof.
Aaron blue: 9 pounds. He has lost 36 pounds since he’s been there and he thinks this proves he has no peak.
David red: 7 pounds. He only predicted 2-3.
Andrea blue: 6 pounds. 100 percent increase from last week.
Ryan red: 14 pounds. The red team goes wild. He hasn’t been below 300 in 3-4 years. The blue team wears sad clown faces at this joyous news.
Kelly blue: 5 pounds. In the real world, 5 pounds is awesome, but she says at the “dude ranch of fat, five pounds is a failure.” Her sad clown face stays.
Matt red: 17 pounds. He was so worried he’d gain after his horrifying week last week. The team goes wild and all mouths drop. It’s clear that the blue team has already lost at this point, unless Mo manages to lose 33 pounds.
Mo blue: 8 pounds. The blue team does not look impressed, and Mo says he felt like he let his team down.
The blue team gets ready for elimination/fridge night, and Kelly goes so far as to pack her stuff and assume she's out. Andrea says not so fast, apparently Aaron came to her and said he don't need no steenkin' trainer, he could do this on his own. Andrea says, buh-bye, pretty boy, he's already lost half is weight and that's reason enough for her.
In general, no one is a happy camper. Kelly’s an emotional wreck, and Aaron says it sucks to have to vote a person off who has done this great thing for themselves. Gary says he wants to stay so that he can wow his family with his ripped physique.
In the end, Gary, Aaron and Mo are all alliance-like, and insist on voting off Kelly. Until Gary does a switcheroo and tells an emotional Kelly that he's NOT voting for her. They all end up in Aaron’s room where he insists they pray. Kelly and Andrea say no way, Jose, they’re not in the mood. Aaron prays anyway in front of everyone else, and asks for strength for the outcome of the vote.
Stop….Platter Time <----cliched MC Hammer reference
It’s time for the vote and the blues head down to the fridge room, where Caroline immediately starts firing off the Probst questions.
Kelly: you lost the least, do you deserve to stay? Yes, she’s strong, aggressive and dedicated.
Aaron: you’re the biggest loser so far, three weeks in a row, can you keep the pace? Yes.
Mo: should your team trust you? Yes, his momma brought him up right.
Aaron: He choses Andrea due to her lack of huge weight loss numbers. Kelly looks strangely pissed.
Andrea: her vote is based on a complete picture of the team, and she talks of her conversation with Aaron re: him being able to do this on his own. She chooses him.
Gary: he respects and loves this person, but buh-bye: Andrea.
Kelly: she says things are going wayyy differently than what she expected, and her vote was vindictive and petty based on paranoia that this person was voting for her. She had decided, pre-vote, an eye for an eye, and chooses…Aaron.
Mo: his decision was based on potential, and he voted for the person most able to make it in the real world. The final vote is………Aaron!
Aaron is upset and tells the team he’s worried about them now, and says he was the strongest person on the team, with no injuries and constant weight loss. Andrea is irritated and tells him he can shove it, saying that it indicates he doesn't believe they can do it. She says: bull poo, he's an arrogant mo fo. And with that, Aaron leaves unceremoniously. His fridge light goes out and I stifle tears.
Aaron departs saying the blue team's about to break down, that he's lost 15 more pounds than anyone else there, and that the next time America sees him, we'll be blown away by his hot factor. Speaking for America: we are already.
Post show: Aaron loses an additional 27 pounds, and is down under 200 for the first time in six years. Before and after pictures: Beautiful. I weep silently.
Next week: Bob is enraged. Like a bolt-ridden Frankenstein. Complete with torch-bearing villagers. Blue team made a huge mistake and he’s going to make them...all...PAY.....through sweat, blood, and involuntary organ donorship. He says when they’re tired, they’re going to keep going, when they’re exhausted, they have to do more. Lastly, we’re shown a pyramid of cupcakes, towering in the foyer taunting everyone, and finally the final weigh in which will be too..close..to call! *gasp* Stay tuned.
Taste the rainbow. firstname.lastname@example.org