Real World
Did Somebody Say "Gay Head"?

Episode Report Card
Djb: C | Grade It Now!
Summer Bummin'

A totally necessary montage of subways, subways, subways serves to remind us of the many modes of transportation available in the period which existed before the human race acquired the power to fold their arms and blink themselves to another location, and we cut to Kameelah and Genesis walking into a greasy-ass diner of some kind. Inside, we are mid-meal with Kameelah, Genesis, Poor Poor Anthony (thanks again, Squiggly Hip Font), and Token Random Silent Guy. Anthony vies for face time: "You and Sean get along well, huh?" Genesis cracks up because she's still shaking off the Jack Daniels buzz she's had since a particularly wild period of her past doctors solemnly refer to as "the mother's pivotal second trimester," and Kameelah is nothing if not narratively groundbreaking (wait...she's actually not even that) in explaining, "To Sean, I'm, woman." Oh. And Sean, like, white man. More from Kameelah? Well, then, pipe down, Earth! "The issue is Kameelah not liking Sean, not Kameelah not liking all white people, y'know? He never wants to look at himself and say, 'Maybe I'm the problem.'" I know how he feels. I never want to look at himself either. The rest of the table sits through this incredible example of how Kameelah doesn't wish to spend all of her time teaching others about black people and blackness, exhibiting just how taxing it is on her delicate constitution to be everybody's teacher. Poor Poor Anthony is not the first outsider to note that the Somber Seven is, by all accounts including their own, a bunch of sullen idiots desperately in need of a dose of reality, but he is the first person in Real World history to note that everyone in the house is in need of "an enema." Augh! At which point, the once unbesmirched Anthony takes his final climb up the nine flights of steps to his third-storey office, steps to the far side of the room, cracks open the window so that the chilly Boston air rushes in and sends haughty letters of termination and forged permission slips for interstate travel all a-flutter, steps gingerly out onto the windowsill, and jumps the shark harder and longer than any Real World pointless extra since all of their creepy significant others' combined. I mean, ew. We're at lunch here and Anthony is talking about Sean and then the prospect of two-directional traffic heading in and/or out of Sean's ass, and it's time for Anthony's immediate removal from the planet. Token random guy thinks that Anthony is hee-larious.

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Real World




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