So, after my brief absence/rest, I'm recharged, feeling the zoom that Whit does when her happy pills kick in. Funny that because it seems to be the case during the intro to Episode 7 of B³ -- I love being on the same page as her! Whit and assorted young people have a pillow fight, which means catharsis . . .
. . . and fun!
Aw. Seeing her happy makes me happy. Cut to Bobby snoring. You know Whit's got something to say 'bout that.
"Listen, how beautiful," she says. "What a man!" A mighty, mighty good man: he sees his kids when he can.
After the funky fresh credits, Bobby makes an ass out of himself to let us know he's in LA.
He refers to Los Angeles as Los Ang-eles (hard "g" sound). I don't take issue with that like I do him referring to himself as Triple B (for Bobby Barisford Brown, I discovered later). Wrong! It's B³. That's our style and it can mean the person and the show (just like Skenecia [the girl that unfortunately isn't Laurie]/skenecia [the boring bullshit reality show ailment] -- more on that in a sec!). Let's keep it straight, OK?
We then see Bobby in a car and his phone rings. Britney Spears' "Toxic" is his ringtone. "She stole my song, I stole hers," reasons Bobby, referring to Brit's ill-fated cover of "My Prerogative." Never mind that he gave his blessing to and profited from that cover -- this is a chance for belligerence and, as B³, B³, Whit, BK, Pop, Tommy and Doogie have taught us repeatedly, belligerence is all that matters.
At first, after seeing the caption, I was like, "Why he all in Whit's bizness?" And then, oops, I remembered it's his show and "my" = his, not hers. He talks some deal with this "producer," saying he doesn't like some "50/50" split they've got set up. Bobby, I love you and think you are sort of titanic for helping keep the world populated via "Roni" and "Rock Witcha," but please, let's be real and realize that 50/50 is pretty fucking great, considering how things are going for you. Considering that in two seconds, when you finally get around to explaining that the reason you're in LA is to appear on Jimmy Kimmel's show, you say, "I ain't done no shows like this since Arsenio Hall."
"I get to Los Angeles and guess who decides to surprise me," says Bobby. My guess: Chaka Khan.
I'm right! Whit sings two bars of "I'm Every Woman" in a Von Dutch store almost as soon as we see her. "Thank you for that," brown-noses some off-camera ass-kisser. "You're welcome," says Whitney, as though she's performing an act of charity by raising her constant stream of singspeak above a schizophrenic murmur.
She spars with BK over skirt length, a fight that's equal parts responsible parenting and consideration for the general public.
And then: the gayest man alive, who bears a satisfying resemblance to Common, crosses Whit's path, talking about how he's from Jersey and how "Miss Houston is number one."
Whit isn't impressed and quizzes him with the voraciousness of a fourth grader (she's like "Nu-uh" and he's like, "Yuh-huh. Ask my momma."). "What's that highway right there?" she asks. "280!" he fags. "You from Newark. Haaaaay!" Says Whit. And then, they dance!!!
Y'all, he took on Whit and won. He's an inspiration for gays everywhere. Whit, however, is not in her tight-ass pants.
She turns around, grabs her ass, and then scratches it, as though I'm not on the other side of the camera, scrutinizing her every move. Think, Whit, think. Then BK picks up every hat in the store to buy because she can.
I'm done with her. She thanks her mother for the hats by thwarting her. As though BK could get any more adorable.
Meanwhile, Bobby practices for his Kimmel appearance by getting friendly with the mic.
Backstage, we're introduced to Bobby's oldest son, Landon.
Landon explains the burden of his birthright: "Females is a difficult situation with me. They find out who my father is and it's over. The stupid ones be like, 'Aw, let me meet your dad,' and the smart ones be like, 'Y'know I don't care about your dad.'" Ha! But then, he backpedals: "And then later on be like, 'So when am I gonna meet him?'" Looks like skenecia runs in the family. Landon: do not worry about bruising your father's ego. No one else does, ever.
Bobby suits up for his show. In more time-space fuckery, this episode was filmed in November -- seemingly months after the episodes that came before it. It gave time, at least, for Bobby to shed some pounds. Here's how he looked during the camping episode:
. . . contrast with this look, which Bobby introduces by saying, "Don't lose your mind, ladies. Don't lose your mind when you see the sexy body, now!" We'll try, Bobby.
Bobby mentally prepares for his appearance, at once channeling Mr. Lama and Mr. Ali.
We aren't privy to the most effective preparation, though. As you can see by the glazed look of this shot, Bobby is gone before he arrives onstage.
He's charming in his wrecked way as he chats with Jimmy on the couch -- at one point, he stumbles when naming his children and at another, he describes Whit as a "tender, tender, tender, tender roni." He sits like a gay molester.
And then, he performs, and it's kind of triumphant. He sounds pretty great, and while it's dopey to hear him sing "My Prerogative," since it really was meant to be sung by someone 15 years younger and light years more famous, it's also kind of poignant. He encores with "Roni," which is straight-up fantastic, a song for the ages, an all-everybody jam that should be our national anthem.
Then, Bobby hits a restaurant with some unidentified "hot shot producer from somewhere," and a pack of hungry women -- literally, one tries to seduce him by saying she's going to eat his arm. The group gets all culty, imploring Bobby to stay with them for a week and then the really flirty one embarrasses herself to everyone but Bobby by saying, "Every night we party! Every night we have sex on the beach!" Bobby likes that.
And then, because Whitney is witchy and can sense when things are not alright and/or OK, she puts an end to all this with just a call. Not even the charms of an opportunistic whore can match Whit's powers.
Bobby leaves, finds someone outside selling an armful of roses and buys them all for Whit, who soon picks him up in a limo. The flowers work -- she doesn't suspect a thing. Whew!
Does a more appropriate sponsor even exist? Dulcolax, maybe?
When we rejoin the Browns, Bobby voiceovers, "Tonight, I'm going to take my wife to a Christian . . ." Though I've watched this episode over and over, every time, I think he's going to finish by saying ". . . bookstore." But he doesn't. They're going to a Christian Dior "event," which provides them the opportunity to get all skenecia-fied on the red carpet. Whit insists that she loves her fans and thanks them -- I guess it's much easier to say such things behind their backs and not when they're politely requesting autographs. At some point, Bobby refers to himself and Whit as "America's entertainers." Yo, you don't know how right you are! Some idiot from Extra, upon hearing about their reality show, makes some comparison to Nick and Jessica. Good old dependable Whit couldn't have provided a better reaction.
I'm going to call her "Wincey" occasionally from now on. "They're cute," she spits. "But we're Whitney and Bobby." Stay that way, please! At the party, they sing strangely, dance stranger and seem to have segregated themselves from the rest of the partygoers. I'm thinking half of that has to do with the cameras, and the other half has to do with all the other guests being unable to handle their truth.
Because Whit was so hopped up on whatever this episode, the awesome faces weren't so frequent.
But next week, the happy pills wear off . . .