Michelle, 22, is a “personal childcare provider.” She’s also a fucking babysitter who felt a need to punch up her resume for some reason or another. Whatever. That’s fine.
Here’s what isn’t fine: She discusses putting a tracking device on her victim who isn’t permitted to have a bachelor party.
Attention is diverted from this when her maid-of-honor Amanda comes into the nail salon. This, because she looks like a cornforcefed lumberjatrix.
If shifts back to Michelle being a horrible human when she forces her prisoner into a tanning salon “like a good boy.” Totally whipped, this cuck-to-be who runs through the salon with his “man bits” exposed to the point that the lumberjatrix told Michelle that she saw “your man’s goodies.”
She posits that she might “go postal” when issues arise with the caterer, who hasn’t returned their calls for a week and seems to vaguely know that he’s catering a reception.
Shortly thereafter, a gentleman named “Ski” arrives on camera. He’s there to do an ice sculpture. He seemingly works out of a shed the likes of which remind me of a story I did on a taxidermist in Florence, SC back in ’95 or ’96. They were good people, those taxidermists. But it creeped me out to be in their killin’ and stuffin’ zone. I suspect I’d feel the same way about being in Ski’s shed. Yeah, yeah, judge not lest ye be judged. I’m sure Ski’s decent folk. He’s decent enough that Michelle and her prisoner ask him to fill in as their minister, as he’s ordained in such matters.
“I believe in being a full-service individual,” explains Ski.
I can’t wait to get reacquainted with Ski on next week’s episode, when Michelle comes to grips with a ceremony that’s already lost two best men.
Brittany‘s back for a follow-up appearance. Remember her?
Bobby, her man, recounts his proposal. It was at her favorite restaurant. It’s called Houston. It’s also in Houston. This strikes Bobby as he recounts it for the cameras as kinda funny. I dig this Bobby cat. He a goofball n’shit. Shame he’s about to get sentenced to 9-12 months in the matrimonial brig.
What’s really weird about Brittany — in a very limited sense — is that she gruntalks when opening naughty gifts at her bachelorette party. I don’t even know how to describe it, other than a tone that’d perk a prison shrink’s ears up.
She flips out crying after the groomsmen start talking about how they’re gonna see strippers later that night.
She then admits that they were tears of fake but that doesn’t matter to her since “they got the job done.” In which “got the job done” loosely translates into “these dudes gonna buy him a few extra lapdances at the tittie bar because they’re seeing how his life will soon turn into an unmitigated purgatory from which he’ll be able to see happiness, but never be able to see it again.
Anyway, Brittany shows up real late for the wedding because she feels as if she’s entitled to do so. And, she expects people to cry when she walks down the aisle. Because, in her inflated head, she’s just that important; important enough, it turns out, to not show up when Bobby calls — seemingly from the altar area — to get her picked up and brought to the nuptials.
But then she shows up and goes through with a ceremony clearly designed to destroy Bobby’s life. Fin.