And to think that when this week began, Ronnie thought he held the house in the palm of his Twizzler-stickied hands. And yet seven days later, he was huddled terrified in his room, Sling Blade-like lower lip aquiver as he hid from the feral tormentor who paced on the other side of his HOH door. Sometimes you have to take a long look at yourself in the mirror and say, ”I’m a grown man whose most prized possessions are his Xbox, bubble wand, complete set of Play-Doh, and enough junk food to make a diabetic implode just by looking at it. Perhaps I’m not the diabolical genius I think I am.” He’s not a criminal mastermind, he’s a villain out ofEncyclopedia Brown.
Need more evidence that Ronnie’s strategy remains at a junior-high level? When Casey accused him of secretly casting a vote for Braden last week, Russell’s defense was, ”In my experience, the person going around the most pointing fingers is usually the person most responsible.” As Dalton Ross pointed out to me, Ronnie was using the ”whoever smelt it, dealt it” defense. It’s a good thing this didn’t escalate, or he would have ramped it up a notch to, ”I know you are, but what am I?” Next thing you know, Ronnie is rubber, Casey is glue, and adouchebagsayswhat.
Thankfully, before things could come to that, the tension was broken with a luxury challenge that taught us all an important life lesson: Don’t go see The Ugly Truth. The Sunday night show only aired a commercial for it, and I still think I deserve ten bucks back. To win the chance to endure this movie, the houseguests had to play a Newlywed Game-style game that was a flimsy excuse to have the women dress up like guys, and vice versa. These crossdressing shenanigans were funnier than the Ugly Truth promo, and yet stilll less funny than psoriasis. The only bright spot was watching Jessie mope when faced with his outsmarter from last season, BB10 victor Dan. ”I would much rather see a porcupine walking backward,” grumbled Jessie. Who knew Jessie had a porcupine ass fetish? Live and learn.
We also got to see the budding flirtation between Jeff and Jordan, who make an interesting pair: he can’t pronounce certain words, and she has the IQ of a Big Mac. Their interactions are great if you’ve ever wondered what the exact opposite of ”witty banter” would be. Turns out Jordan can’t tell time, and is utterly stymied when asked to divide 60 by four. I’m not sure which is stupider: not being able to tell time, or seeing nothing wrong with bragging about it. I have a question for someone who regularly watches the live internet feed: How much of the morning is spent with Jordan staring quizzically at her untied shoelaces, wondering how these magical strings work?
NEXT: The Power of Veto, and Ronnie’s butt makes change