These weekly posts are intended as an episode-by-episode guide to the many psychological ailments, drunken gibberish, senseless actions, Bourbon Street mixed drinks and other embarrassments on MTV’s The Real World: New Orleans.

It contains spoilers — and who cares? You stopped watching this show several years ago — but also a lot of information that might help viewers of the series come to terms with their outrage over the cast’s cultural vandalism of New Orleans (and what was once a really lovely Uptown house), and also the bleak, black future of our society.

The emotional trauma caused by the show admittedly makes such coverage an overwhelming task, so posts may be supplemented by information culled from Wikipedia, WebMD and un-scientific polls of nearby Gambit staffers. Readers are also encouraged to submit any comments that may help us make sense of this wreckage.

When you’re living in a house occupied by feral creatures with names like “Jemmye” and, somehow, you manage to distinguish yourself as the most insane, uncivilized and flatulent one of them all, the only thing left to do is leave. So like Puck and some other people from other seasons, Ryan joins the list of Real World cast members who were called back to God before their time. Let us remember Ryan, the hairdresser with a heart of gold (and also many mental disorders).

Brother and Cousin. Just when you thought the life of Ryan couldn’t be more of a cartoon, we meet his brother and cousin — who are apparently named Brother and Cousin (this is probably because they didn’t want their names on TV, but I desperately want to believe that “Brother” and “Cousin” are their Christian names so just let me tell myself that, OK? Please let me believe that). Eric, who I guess talks now, described the three as “the Three Stooges meets All-American Rejects,” and that’s kind of perfect. Other fitting descriptions: a group of cavemen that just discovered Fall Out Boy, PacSun employees who send VHS tapes of themselves jumping off buildings to Jackass even though it doesn’t air anymore, or, just Ryan and two brown-haired versions of Ryan. When they’re around each other, they communicate only in grunts and farts.

Read the rest of this entry »

The tribe engages in indigenous hunting/gathering rituals.

These weekly posts are intended as an episode-by-episode guide to the many psychological ailments, drunken gibberish, senseless actions, Bourbon Street mixed drinks and other embarrassments on MTV’s The Real World: New Orleans.

It contains spoilers — and who cares? You stopped watching this show several years ago — but also a lot of information that might help viewers of the series come to terms with their outrage over the cast’s cultural vandalism of New Orleans (and what was once a really lovely Uptown house), and also the bleak, black future of our society.

The emotional trauma caused by the show admittedly makes such coverage an overwhelming task, so posts may be supplemented by information culled from Wikipedia, WebMD and un-scientific polls of nearby Gambit staffers. Readers are also encouraged to submit any comments that may help us make sense of this wreckage.

(Sorry I’m late with this one! I was busy doing important Real World-related research.)

Was it the narcotics I stole from Ashlee, or did this episode feel especially long? Wait, who am I kidding! You guys don’t even watch this anymore. Allow me to describe the horror show you missed.

The hunting/gathering rituals of the species Real World sapiens. Because the cast had neglected to earn its weekly Subway allowance (if one person attempts to escape, as Jemmye did, the whole house is punished) and they were sick of eating mosquitoes, the men of the house were left to forage for food again. They considered killing Ashlee for her meat and for her prized grey sweatshirt, the source of her strength, but it just so happened that one of the tropical fish from the house fish tank had died, so a slaughter would be unnecessary (for now). The men removed their shirts and embarked on their hunt. The women became privy to the hunting ritual and erupted into hysterics, as they are wont to do, being the more sensitive sex. The men, ravenous from a hard day’s work, coated the whole fish —skin, bones and all — in a delicious Cajun seasoning, pan-fried it and tried to distribute the meal to members of the tribe. But alas, the tribe bristled at this unfamiliar meal. Ashlee was most horrified at the sight of the offering. Little did she know it was exactly what saved her.

Read the rest of this entry »

Erin go barf

These weekly posts are intended as an episode-by-episode guide to the many psychological ailments, drunken gibberish, senseless actions, Bourbon Street mixed drinks and other embarrassments on MTV’s The Real World: New Orleans.

It contains spoilers — and who cares? You stopped watching this show several years ago — but also a lot of information that might help viewers of the series come to terms with their outrage over the cast’s cultural vandalism of New Orleans (and what was once a really lovely Uptown house), and also the bleak, black future of our society.

The emotional trauma caused by the show admittedly makes such coverage an overwhelming task, so posts may be supplemented by information culled from Wikipedia, WebMD and un-scientific polls of nearby Gambit staffers. Readers are also encouraged to submit any comments that may help us make sense of this wreckage.

I believe we’ve reached a pivotal juncture in the show — in which things stop being polite and start getting real. Specifically with Jemmye, who approaches a point of drunkenness somehow slouchier and naked-er than her Bourbon Street Breakdown. It’s quite embarrassing, even for a network whose main commodity is embarrassment (see also: most episodes of True Life, all episodes of Next and Parental Control). It’s time to sift through the wreckage.

Nonlinear narrative. Once upon a time there were some young people, filled with boundless optimism and creativity, who enrolled in film school to become the next David Lynch or Coen brothers or Francois Truffaut. But then the recession happened, and that low-budget remake of Metropolis didn’t really work out, so they took production jobs on reality TV shows just until they could find something else. And here they are, still working as pornographers on a television network for teenagers.

To maintain their integrity (and make their parents, who are saddled with their student debt, proud), they try to inject some artful touches on the show. They play with a nonlinear narrative, a la Christopher Nolan. The episode starts in media res with scenes of Jemmye’s drunken rampage set to dramatic film music, then a title screen says “10 hours earlier.” I hope they were proud of that.

The St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Just as Mardi Gras parade withdrawals begin to kick in, another occasion to have things thrown at us while we drink in the streets arises. I guess it’s the combination of sunlight and green food coloring that creates some sort of uniquely embarrassing state of drunkenness, and Jemmye experiences that on this episode. Add that to her latent post-traumatic stress disorder and well, Jemmye’s motor skills begin to resemble those of wilted cabbage heads on St. Charles Avenue. Allow me to describe the sequence of events:

Read the rest of this entry »

This post brought to you by Subway — Eat Fresh!™

These weekly posts are intended as an episode-by-episode guide to the many psychological ailments, drunken gibberish, senseless actions, Bourbon Street mixed drinks and other embarrassments on MTV’s The Real World: New Orleans.

It contains spoilers — and who cares? You stopped watching this show several years ago — but also a lot of information that might help viewers of the series come to terms with their outrage over the cast’s cultural vandalism of New Orleans (and what was once a really lovely Uptown house), and also the bleak, black future of our society.

The emotional trauma caused by the show admittedly makes such coverage an overwhelming task, so posts may be supplemented by information culled from Wikipedia, WebMD and un-scientific polls of nearby Gambit staffers. Readers are also encouraged to submit any comments that may help us make sense of this wreckage.

If The Real World were a marriage, the last six episodes constituted the honeymoon period, and now we’re in the part of the relationship where you wear sweatshirts and yell at each other all the time. Why are you even together anymore? You used to dress up and say nice things to each other, now all you do is wear baggy shirts, cry and eat Subway sandwiches. The Real World has given up, but I’m not giving up on it. We’re staying together for the kids.

Mosquitoes. We continue to learn that no amount of Applebees light fixtures, Pottery Barn for Tweenz furniture or antique armoire barricades can stop New Orleans’ most bothersome insects. The housemates encountered a mosquito in this episode, and what ensued was probably among the most stupidest of stupid things in Real World history. Ryan dared Knight to eat the mosquito, and he did, because he’s an idiot. And then Ryan proceeded to step outside and vomit — and by “vomit,” I mean make lots of gaggy noises and then spit on the ground. And then everyone laughed, they showed a few streetcars, and then it was onto the next inanity. Why is this show still on the air?

Read the rest of this entry »

A scene from "Scared Straight! New Orleans"

These weekly posts are intended as an episode-by-episode guide to the many psychological ailments, drunken gibberish, senseless actions, Bourbon Street mixed drinks and other embarrassments on MTV’s The Real World: New Orleans.

It contains spoilers — and who cares? You stopped watching this show several years ago — but also a lot of information that might help viewers of the series come to terms with their outrage over the cast’s cultural vandalism of New Orleans (and what was once a really lovely Uptown house), and also the bleak, black future of our society.

The emotional trauma caused by the show admittedly makes such coverage an overwhelming task, so posts may be supplemented by information culled from Wikipedia, WebMD and un-scientific polls of nearby Gambit staffers. Readers are also encouraged to submit any comments that may help us make sense of this wreckage.

In this episode: Ryan bristles at Preston’s toothbrush offense (see what I did there?), Jemmye’s mom makes me uncomfortable, and The Real World tries to make good. Tonight on the Real Househorrors of Dufossat Street …

The toothbrush incident. Remember how we were back in March, still basking in the glow of a Superbowl victory and David Simon’s love? Our shoulders back and our heads held high, not even thinking someone like Ryan Leslie could even exist? That was a happy existence. Then the oil spill happened. Then The Real World happened.

But back in March, there was a sign of things to come. The great oracle Richard Thompson of the Times-Picayune gave us this prophecy: there will be seven strangers, picked to live in a house and have their lives taped. They will stop being polite and start getting real. And someone will have their toothbrush peed on and call the police about it.

Last night the Great Sonicare Showdown had its on-air moment, and I must say it was rather anticlimactic. Here’s what happened: word finally got back to Ryan that his $120 toothbrush was essentially being used as a pregnancy test, and he got all Ryan about and paced around the house like a maniac. So he woke up one day and decided to call the police and “teach Preston a lesson.” He called 911 and even after hearing “What’s your emergency?” proceeded to tell the dispatcher, in complete seriousness, “Someone took my toothbrush, put it in the toilet, and peed on it.” Ryan, while I understand your disgust, toilet germs are nothing compared to the airborne STDs and other maladies you’re likely being exposed to in the Real World house. You’ve probably already contracted herpes from the sheer amount of time you’ve spent on Bourbon Street. And I don’t think you want to see where Hand Grenades come from (hint: it’s not sanitary).

Anyway, this leads me to the NOPD, our notoriously inefficient crime apparatus. While rapists and murderers roam free, committing senseless crimes across the city, the NOPD takes the time to visit the house not once, but twice, in response to this juvenile prank. So if you ever get mugged or your car gets stolen or worse, and you call the police and wonder what’s taking them so long, it might be because they’re busy composing police reports like this. Is Mayor Mitch Landrieu watching this?

Cockroaches. Our housemates were exposed to one of the daily aspects of New Orleans living: dealing with cockroaches. I found it rather symbolic, as The Real World series is like a cockroach in that it will never, ever, ever go away despite our best attempts. Anyway, the cast did what most people do to get rid of a roach — shriek and throw objects in its general direction until a male shows up who’s willing to smother it with a paper towel.

Read the rest of this entry »