Apprentice 2: Eric Liebowitz
Whitney Pastorek
October 08, 2004 AT 04:00 AM EDT

”The Apprentice”: Crusty Pamela is toast

And now, live from where I fell asleep on the couch, your Apprentice TV Watch! I’d like to say that my friend Al and I were all shocked ‘n’ stuff when Pamela got booted off for not being an efficient enough price gouger — I mean, we both made the obligatory sucking-in-of-air noises and placed our hands over our mouths . . . but then we both sort of went, ”Eh,” and got up to get some pudding from the kitchen. We didn’t even sing along with the dun-dun, Dun-dun, DUN-dun, duhnuhnuhnuhnuhnuh music. And we always sing along. Sometimes we sing it during Survivor, we find it so compelling.

Before I knew it was going to be a predictable episode where they fire quite possibly the only competent woman on the show for no particularly good reason, though, I was excited. After all, who doesn’t like the Home Shopping Network? (Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to be brainwashed into liking QVC instead? Hold on. As soon as I finish returning these 17 unnecessary UPS packages, I’ll change the channel. Right. QVC. Check.)

[Please note: Following Pamela’s lead, I’ve changed the team names this week to ”Penises” and ”Uteruseses.” Deal with it.]

So the Penises and Uteruseses gathered at the foot of Trump to receive their assignment for the week — make the most money selling something on TV — and while wearing a tie that was the exact same color as his hair, Trump went off on the ladies for being lousy in general and declared he had to do something. There was some testimonial clip from Spazvana where she was saying something about their performance being a disgrace, but I’ve now tuned her out in very much the same way I tune out all Gap managers, so I’m not sure what she said. I did perk right up when Trump switched Pamela back over to the ladies, because it was such a surpri— oh, wait. I knew about it from the promos, that’s right. So it wasn’t a surprise at all. Right. Check.

Come to think of it, here are the other things that weren’t a surprise:

1. Pamela is at least a foot taller than all the other women. It was like that picture of Mandy Moore standing next to the Olsen Twins that’s been floating around on the Internet. Arrr, beware the giant lady! Arrr!

2. The Penises pick a grill to sell, the Uteruseses pick a cleaning sponge. Duh. Because boys like grilling (and there is nothing more macho than panini) and girls like to keep everything spick-and-span around the house. My God, if we haven’t learned more than that in the last 50 years, then television as a medium has failed us miserably.

3. Maria the Dragon Lady’s public-speaking skills are perhaps not as good as she’d like them to be, though if she ever has to defend herself against an attacker by bludgeoning him with a giant cleaning sponge, I think she’ll have a decent shot at survival.

4. The boys had their usual good time on this task — or maybe I was just distracted by Andy not taking off that stupid hard hat — and then they definitely had a good time when their reward for winning (by $10, but I’ll get to that in a minute) took them out to the U.S. Tennis Center in Flushing, Queens, and they got to hit some balls around with John McEnroe and Anna Kournikova. Best. Reward. Ever. (But I’ll get to that in a minute, too.)

What was I going to come back to? Oh, right. The $10 thing. This is what I meant by Pamela losing because her price-gouging skills weren’t quite honed enough. No one, and I mean this, no one in their right mind is going to pay that much money for either product. Seventy bucks for a sandwich maker? Twenty-seven for freakin’ sponges? I don’t want to offend anyone, but who the hell is buying this stuff? When it comes to the loonies who will impulse-buy crap off the tee-vee, does it really matter how much the crap costs? Frankly, the fact that the Uteruseses only lost by $10 with a way less interesting product and without the benefit of Official Hottie John — well, let’s just say I’m with Pamela in thinking it was as close to a tie as you’re gonna get in this game. Shut up, George.

So, Pamela’s gone, back to East Germany. Adieu! Auf Wiedersehen! Goodbye! Please enjoy your obviously successful regular life! Miss ya already! LYLAS!

Whew, she’s gone. Now I can get down to talking about the one true highlight of last night’s show: shirtless Raj running laps around the tennis stadium while being pelted with tennis balls! Yay! Yes, for whatever reason, my future boyfriend Raj got it into his head that he’d like to ask Anna Kournikova out on a date. Which was fine with me because I almost want to ask Anna Kournikova out on a date. (Sorry, Carolyn.) So he bet her that if he could return one of her serves, she would have to go out with him. If he couldn’t, she could dare him to do something. Fair enough. But someone should maybe alert Sports Illustrated, because Anna Kournikova proceeded to win what is I think her first-ever match on the U.S. Open property by fanning Raj five straight times. In collaboration with the other boys (who were just glowing at this point, they were so happy), she declared his punishment to be . . . running around the stadium in his boxers. It was as if she could read my mind.

La la la la . . . What? Oh, the show? Well, what else can I tell you? Is it not obvious that without Pamela the ladies don’t have a shot in hell and in fact it’s possible that one or more of them will actually trap Little Stacy in a mason jar and refuse to let her out? I’ve got nothing else to say, really. This show exhausts me right now. And I have to go figure out how Anna Kournikova can hear my every thought and make my deepest darkest wishes come true before a pony suddenly shows up in my living room. TTFN!

What did you think? Did this episode fulfill your wishes?

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