The Celebrity Apprentice Season Premier Recap: Part Two

When we left off yesterday, we were about to check in and see what kind of shenanigans were going down on the men’s side of this week’s challenge.  Scintillating.  If you missed part one of the recap, read it here.  Otherwise, let’s get this shit over with.

After some quality time with the ladies, we head over to the guys’ Burger Heaven location.  Hey!  Remember how yesterday I added “Truffle Shuffle” onto the end of the title of the recap and, after reading it, it made absolutely no sense?  I did that because I’m truly a gifted writer and, dare I say, artist who approaches even the tiniest of details with the delicacy and precision of a brick to the face.  I also did it because that celebrity chef called in some favors and landed a bunch of truffles for the guys to use in their restaurant and I thought I’d get around to mentioning that yesterday.  But I didn’t.  Anyway, I’ve never eaten truffles, because I’m homeless, but they look like feces, which I have eaten, because I’m homeless.

Delicious!

He’s using them to make Truffle Risotto.  $250 for that.  Ivanka has shown up by this point and is all “bitches be trippin” and then floats right the fuck out of there on a cloud of entitlement and fake breasts.  Before breaking off into their various roles in the diner, Bret Michaels gathers everyone together and suggests that they, as a group, “bring it.”  God I hate that guy.

As far as who is doing what on the men’s side: Sinbad is the guy who stands outside and tries to get people in the door, because nobody packs them in these days like Sinbad.  Darryl is the host, which in essence keeps him away from the money which in turn keeps him from running off to the dark recesses of Crooklyn to score a rock.  Blagojevich takes orders and uses the platform to proclaim his innocence to anyone who will listen.  Speaking of listening, did anyone listen to those audiotapes of him committing the very crime he’s accused of?  As for Bret Michaels, he’s wandering around in an 80’s rock stupor probably wondering when the chicks with big hair are going to show up and flash their tits.

Sinbad is doing a decent job of getting people in the door.  People who, upon seeing that a fucking hamburger costs $100 are subsequently turning right back around and leaving because, traditionally, $100 burgers are supposed to come with a hand job or a reach around or something.  Not so this time.

But eventually, the very seas of hell part and the men start selling shit.  Al Roker shows up and orders whatever will irritate his lap band the least.  Some guy I swear is homeless pays $1500 for a burger.

After a brief visit from the guy who isn’t Donald Trump and also isn’t that old badger who used to be in the boardroom all the time, Joan Rivers rears her plastic head.  Donald has dispatched her to check in on each group and bestow $10,000 upon whichever group she deems superior.  Sinbad sees Joan and immediately relays a tale of opening for her in Vegas.  She said he was funny.  He says that’s like the Pope saying you’re funny.  I agree, because much like the Pope, Joan Rivers has never said anything that made me laugh. 

This is pretty funny though.

After Joan places her rickety old order, Rod starts hitting the “I’m innocent” train hard to anyone who will listen while Joan’s burger sits on the counter waiting to be delivered.  By the time he steps down from the witness stand and delivers the food, Joan complains that it’s cold.  The Heavens cry tears of pure Unicorn blood at the thought of this atrocity and then Joan shuffles off to see the chicks.  But first, Bret Michaels diabetes starts acting up so Goldberg takes over waitressing duties.  On a more well produced show, “Every Rose Has a Thorn” would have started playing.  And in the name of full disclosure, that didn’t actually happen before Joan left.  It’s called creative license, bitch.

Meanwhile, Cyndi Lauper is busy fucking up orders on the ladies’ side.  The dude who isn’t Ivanka or Donald shows up to see what the fuck and Cindy is like “no time dickhead.”  Holly Robinson is kicking people right the fuck out in the name of generating cash flow and also because people are lined up around the damn block like it’s the premier of the new Twilight flick or something.  For some reason, Carol is still outside trying to usher people inside.  Holly nixes that shit and puts her on counter duty. 

But it would be all for naught.  As the clock winds down and the buzzer sounds, some of Holly’s big donors got stuck in line and never made it inside.  I’m assuming none of them were her bitter disappointment of an NFL quarterback husband.  He’s gotta be pretty cash poor by now.

End of task.  Boardroom time.

Cyndi Lauper’s hair is kind of reminiscent of that dude from The Cure and I love her for it.  Donald gets right down to business by trying to talk the ladies into throwing someone under the bus.  They aren’t biting at first.  It’s all love and loyalty and girl power and syncronized vaginas. 

For the men, Bret throws himself under the bus as being the weak link but Donald corrects him and suggests that if they lose a challenge that involves running a restaurant, maybe the guy who actually runs a restaurant should be the one to go. He then taunts him by explaining that he’s had way more pussy than any bitch chef ever will.  I shit you not. 

RECOGNIZE!

The chicks get Joan’s extra ten grand, which is no surprise, and Rod takes the blame for Joan’s cold burger.  The cold hamburger that is.  The fact that she is upwards of 117 years old is to blame for the cold clamburger.   

Despite the extra ten grand, the women raised a mere $39,559 to the men’s $57,905.  Fist bumps all around.  They’ll tongue kiss in the shower later I assume.  That total is rounded up to an even $60,000 for the American Diabetes Association and the harsh reality that Bret Michaels could live into old age shoots up slightly.  Bummer. 

Time to send somebody home.  Donald asks Cyndi about fundraising.  She admits she didn’t raise much, but not for a lack of trying.  She wanted to have Rosie O’Donnell stop by.  Donald advises that Rosie O’Donnell is disgusting.  Love it.

Trump asks why the women didn’t bring in more tips given their huge racks and all and Holly finally steps up to stab someone clean in the back.  She mentions that Carol was supposed to be outside getting people in the door, even though she’s the one who asked her to come inside.  Fucking awesome.  Donald says the chicks had a better location.  Cyndi agrees.  Donald is all “ha, that’s why you bitches deserve to lose!”

Nobody wants to say who should get fired.  Donald starts cursing.  Cyndi’s virgin ears have never heard such filth.  The wrestler finally decides on Carol.  Holly jumps on the Carol bandwagon but also halfheartedly mentions Cyndi.  Carol is doomed, but states her case anyway.  The group needs her because of her creativity.  Cyndi Lauper wrote “Time After Time” bitch!  Summer and Sharon jump on Carol bandwagon but Selita remains diplomatic and won’t out anyone.  Donald cuts that shit off and threatens to fire her.  The other chicks are like “she cooked though!”  Ivanka jumps in and mentions that they got the ten grand because the food was good.  She feels a kinship with Selita, probably because they’re both smoking hot.  After Cyndi refuses to pick two people to join her in the boardroom, Donald grows weary and drops the hammer on Carol without even waiting for Cyndi to pick two people.  Right on.

Shit, that was exhausting.  And the season just started.  Stay tuned for a recap of episode two next Monday.