Josh Wolk
February 03, 2004 AT 05:00 AM EST

Good news! Robin and Brad are out of the slammer

When we last left the ”Real World: San Diego” gang, two people were in jail, two were a big drunken mess, and… how many does that leave? Oh, right, three people were sober. Frankly, it seemed a lot more exciting when I was watching it last week than when I see it in writing now. And such was the general anticlimactic feeling of the Feb. 3 episode.

This is probably how it felt to Jacquese, too. At first there was a novelty in trying to wrangle your roomies out of jail while hopping over wasted roommates grabbing at each other’s pants. Come to think of it, add an AK-47 and it sounds like it could be a new videogame.

But after the fun wore off, and it was 4 a.m. and he had to call the parents of his demanding, wailing roomie Robin for bail money while everyone else slept? well, it just wasn’t that much fun anymore. Even the presence of a deadline — if they didn’t get her out that night, she’d have to stay in the clink for three more days — did nothing to add suspense, which was odd, because that sort of thing works all the time on ”24.”

Meanwhile, Brad was freed once he sobered up. ”Minor bump in the road, dude,” said the guard escorting him out, which seemed like a surprisingly lackadaisical attitude coming from a police department that imprisoned a guy for being slightly less of a loudmouth than the mob of loudmouths yelling at him. Brad then called home, and had a conversation with Randy that involved the word ”man” used as a verb, noun, adjective, and chew toy. Their lingo would make an English teacher take his own life.

Brad then told Randy (or ”Big Rand” as he creatively nicknamed his roommate) that ”jail was a shysty situation.” ”Shysty”? Is this convict terminology? (As in, ”That shiv sure was shysty!”) Or when Brad runs out of words, does he just make them up? (”Brad no like this sandwich! Brad say sandwich taste? flaptrapple!”) Then again, perhaps this is common slang and I’ve just revealed that I’m too old to know it. How embarrassing: As I learned by watching Syrus get called a useless, decrepit lump on ”The Inferno” for being 31 years old, there is nothing — NOTHING — worse than being old in the MTV universe.

When Robin, bailed out by her parents, arrived home, she announced that she hoped everyone was asleep because she really needed some quiet. Boy, it would be a drag if those people who stayed up all night to free you then had the nerve to keep you up. She had also professed how touched she was that Big Rand had waited by the phone for her to call, even though he had been passed out while Jacquese made all the arrangements. When she subsequently declared that she didn’t know where all her unresolved anger came from, I had a good guess as to where her roommates’ anger was coming from.

All through this, Frankie was talking to her boyfriend, Dave, confessing that she had blacked out, and didn’t know what she had done the previous night when she was trying to jam her hands down Randy’s pants. Clearly, if the topic came up, she must have had some idea, unless she’s the most self-destructive girlfriend around. ”Hey, Frankie, what’d you do last night?” ”Got really drunk and blacked out, so I could have done anything. Possibly screwed some guy, maybe called your mother a whore, or shot a puppy. Really not sure, could have been anything. And you?”

An understandably miffed Dave broke up with her over the phone, after which she ran sobbing into the kitchen, throwing herself into Brad’s arms. (Next conversation with Dave: ”I don’t know, I got real sad, and then I ended up getting hugged. I don’t THINK that moved on to having sex, but who knows? I was so teary I couldn’t see!”)

She then ran out to the porch, and Brad confessed that he just doesn’t understand Frankie. Just add that to the long, alphabetical list of Things Brad Doesn’t Understand, between ”Forks” and ”Frozen Pizzas.” Sorry, was that not a shysty thing to say?

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