flipit
08-18-2007, 09:39 PM
Hello everybody, and Welcome to the Parker! This whimsical romp through the Palm Springs desert brings us all the class of a five star establishment, and, as I can completely attest to as a former fine dining waitress, all the crazy that comes with it. Have you ever met someone where you know instantly that they have a hope chest full of disturbing fetishes? This seems to be the case in any high-end arena that’s obsessed with perfection, and as we will soon find out, the Parker is no exception.
So before we get to Episode 3 of Welcome to the Parker, let me bring you up to speed on the season so far.
In Episodes 1 and 2, we learn some life lessons that can be carried with us far beyond our weekly foray into Palm Springs.
1) The trophy wives of rich, hot shot Hollywood industry players may get the Bentley, the cushion cut 9 carat diamond engagement rings and multi-million dollar homes, yes. But it seems that they still have to deal with the same jackassery as us normal girls do from the losers we’re dating. Let’s just say that a combination of booze, a man-tricycle (stolen, I believe from the room service people), ping pong and a hell of a lot of bacon burgers can revert even the most powerful men in America into 12-year-old boys.
2) Really disturbed people also tip really well when you help them fulfill their creepiest fantasies. And when I say disturbed people, I mean, for example, those who need bucket after bucket of ice to fill a bathtub. We never find out exactly why this guy needs it, but it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with removing kidneys, or with simulated necrophilia, as was my first guess. You know, hooker, tub full of ice, that kind of thing. More common than you’d think. Or so I hear…
3) Celebrity interior designer Jonathan Adler is a catty little bitch and needs a full-time fluffer. No, seriously. He said it himself. (Ok, he really means to fluff all the pillows and drapes and such, but it just sounded too good, and you know he wanted us to think that, too). Jonathan, also of Top Design reality fame, was the head designer of the Parker. On this trip he is informed that the hotel will soon have a “no dogs” policy, so of course he decides to fight the good fight for his Norwich Terrier the only way he knows how. More ping pong! Did I mention he named his dog Liberace? I don’t know, seems a little on-the-nose, don’t you think?
By the way, what’s with all the ping pong on this show? When it showed up twice over the course of two episodes, I couldn’t help but wonder - when were the drag queens, Asian women and big pink busses showing up? Ok, sorry, obscure reference. Just think Guy Pierce (the sexy guy from Momento), Hugo Weaving (Agent Smith from the Matrix and Elrond from LOTR) and the bad guy from Superman 3 in gloriously be-spangled drag singing I Will Survive. Freaking brilliant.
Anyhoodle, this week on Welcome to the Parker, entitled “Drag Queens and a Drama Queen,” the guest list includes party planner Doug Fregolle, Jill Johnson, a high end travel agent, and drag queen bingo! Can’t wait! It seems my visions of spangles in the hot sand were right on target, but neither of our queens this week is even in the same ballpark of hotness as Guy Pierce.
From my understanding of this particular culture (which I’ll admit is better than most, but not top-of-the-heap, seeing as I have, you know, a hoo-hoo), Palm Springs is kind of like the Wailing Wall for gay men. I first learned of this through my deep and passionate love affair with Queer as Folk. Ah, Emmett Honeycutt, my love, one day we will stroll arm in arm down Liberty Avenue maxing out all of the late pickle barron’s credit cards on tacky vinyl clothing. This is my wish. Every girl needs a gay boyfriend and Peter Paige is mine.
Back at the Parker, the first VIP guest up is Jill, who we are told expects the best, and millions of dollars in business rest on her happiness. So of course we know that this entire experience will be a massive, lube-free clusterfuck. Rick, our clueless receptionist, takes Jill and her entourage on an extended, unintended tour of the hallway before finally realizing that they aren’t even in the right building. I would have thought that Jill would have been a lot more annoyed about the whole thing, but she seems to find it funny, even taunting him a little as they go. Strike 1 guys.
Next we meet Doug Fregolle, the party planner who is throwing his annual Winter Wonderland party in the Gene Autry house, the uber-suite of the hotel, which as the name implies, was formerly Gene Autry’s home. Why the most chic, luxury residence in the hotel (it goes for $5,000 a night) was so proudly named after the Singing Cowboy, I can’t fathom (yeah, I know the whole place used to be his ranch, but they don’t name that one room at the Ambassador hotel in Milwaukee the Jeffrey Dahmer room, do they?)
For someone who plans parties for a living, though, Doug doesn’t seem to do much of the actual planning himself. When Doug starts spewing demands for the party (you know, the usual - tons of heat lamps, Christmas trees - in the middle of the desert - and an ice sculpture that pours martinis in the shape of Gene Autry on a horse), Michael, the new catering manager, seems in over his head. See, Michael gets flustered easily and seems to lack the ability to say no. Ahem. Either way, something will go horribly wrong this episode for Michael, I can tell already. Don’t you just love it when real life follows the reality show format?
When Doug tells Michael that there are going to be 120 people at this party, you can see Michael’s internal “oh shit” monitor go off. He confessionals that his boss Thomas told him that there were to be no parties over 100 people. Now Michael starts in on damage control, which is pretty obvious to everyone, because Doug seems actively intent on thwarting him at every turn. It’s like he wants Michael to get fired. Michael immediately begins trying to find out a way to reduce the headcount that he has to report to the boss, first hoping that people would rotate in an out, but no, Doug tells him that everyone always stays at his parties to the end. Me to the ow. Now Michael takes the passive aggressive route and tells Doug that he’s worried about 120 people sitting and spilling all over the house. Doug tells him that it won’t be an issue, because “No, MICHAL, they high end clients, they’re not SLOPPY.” Methinks I know who the title drama queen is…
Meanwhile, the producers create an aside to set us up for something to go explode by the end of the episode. Angela and Andrea, two of the more senior catering managers are talking to Thomas, the stern looking (German? Dane? I’m so awful with accents) boss about whether or not they should fire Michael because he’s not making enough progress. The shit inches ever closer to the fan.
Finally, much to my delight, our drag queens show up with one telling the bellhop that not only do they have a lot of emotional baggage, but a lot of other baggage as well. Ha ha large drag queen. So colorful. I was really hoping for some of those fabulous drag queens that are just as hot as men as they are as women. Or at least the ones that make really amazing women (I’ve always had a secret love for RuPaul, what do you want from me?). Haven’t seen their feminine sides yet, and I think Coco Peru might have something going in the classic yet obvious queen sense, but Bridgette of Madison County seems like he would be akin to a very tall Kathy Bates. I think he probably has to shop in Big and Tall stores for his men’s clothes. He must have a great seamstress for his evening wear. Can’t buy that stuff off the rack.
Drag Queen Bingo tonight is a fund raiser for a charity called A Journey to a Hate-Free Millennium, which is an organization that works with high school kids to promote tolerance. You work it girls! To add to the probability that Michel will soon find himself tied behind Thomas’ bumper being driven through a cactus patch, he is put to the task of organizing drag queen bingo. Some might be surprised by how uncomfortable he seems around the queens, but not me. My belief is that Michael’s into bears. Top Chef tie-in with Tom Colicchio please? I can see it now, it will be like Zeus coming down from the mountain…BEAR-QUAKE! GRRRRRR!
Next, Jill has an appointment with Alisa, the sales manager, who is to show her around the grounds. She shows up at the front desk, and is asked to wait for just a moment while Alisa is fetched. Immediately the slow and deliberate “waiting” music starts, and we know that this will not go well either. Fire Alisa! We haven’t even met her yet, and already I want her gone. Jill waits five minutes. Then ten. Then, of course, the producers decide to play their reality TV tricks on me, showing in large friendly letters that it is now 25 minutes later, 35 minutes later, and by my count, it’s been an hour and ten already.
Now Jill seems to be getting drunk while she waits. This lady I like. You have to wait? You get sloppy. Seems like a good rule to live by. Consider this strike 2.
Finally our German friend (I’m calling him German from now until the time that someone corrects me) Thomas walks by and Jill says “You’re not Alisa. Definitely.” No, but as evidenced by the staff’s morning meeting, he does seem to have a penchant for firing people as of late. Jill tells him about the trouble finding their room earlier. Thomas gets a look of pure masked fury on his face and with the sweetest voice and smile says “Let me find out Jill. Hold on one second.” He sounds so fake-cheery that now I think he might just be Irish – like, Lucky Charms Irish. Although if he didn’t have his strong accent, I would be slightly less inclined to believe that Rick will die from having ping pong balls, the seemingly most prevalent single item in the hotel, shoved violently into every orifice. And not in a good way. After he gets fired of course.
Jill’s so sweet, now she’s all freaked out that she may have just gotten Rick fired. If only you knew, Jill. But nothing happens to Rick that we see on camera. Instead Thomas goes to get Alisa, and when her and Jill finally meet, the total wait time flashes on the screen. 36 minutes? Huh? Tricky freaking producers.
Alisa explains the long wait as follows: “They said, ‘do you want to see her right now?’ I said, ‘she probably wants some time to just…uuugh’ (don’t know how to spell the sound of a deep cleansing breath).” Bullshit, skinny bitch! You don’t have someone that’s worth millions of dollars to your business sit there so they have time to…uuugh! Okay, Rick’s really not the problem now. On the tour of the grounds, Alisa tries to show Jill one of the Superior Guest Rooms and walks straight into two separate rooms that are occupied – by the looks on her and Jill’s faces, my guess would be that one room contained some boning. They both snuck another look, too. Strike 3.
After that debacle, they decide to lay out and get some skin cancer. Along comes Gilberto, the pool boy, (not as hot as it sounds) and Jill asks for him to spritz her and her entourage with Evian. Ok, this I haven’t heard of, but apparently this type of thing is actually done. Jill, won’t you please think of Namibia? Some people don’t have water to drink, and you want to be gently spritzed by the finest mountain water of the Alps? But you know, I think if it had been left at that, there would have been no strike 4, but Gilberto decides to bring them sopping wet washcloths instead, which they proceed to make fun of and chuck at each other. Strike 4.
We now head back to Michael and the drag queens, and not only is Michael in charge of the drag queen bingo, but now he’s suddenly asked to provide prizes out of his ass. Actually, that might have been better. No one wants to help him gather prizes (not the ass variety) and no one want to give him any money for it, (again, off the subject of butt. Stop thinking about it. Seriously.) so he’s stuck in the office gathering things that people normally steal from room service. Oh yeah, and some T-shirts. But come on Michael, if you’re going to be giving out prizes that people could steal from the room, why not hit the mini bar? I think this crowd would appreciate booze more than bathrobes and such.
Back in Jill’s room, she’s getting ready for a nice nap, but when she climbs into bed, what does she find? A rip in the sheet big enough to be a glory hole on the South side of Chicago, that’s what. I mean, most of the stuff that has happened so far, I would probably accept at a hotel, because I’m cheap and I’m not expecting much from anywhere that rents by the hour. But a giant tear in the sheet? Not cool. Strike 5, bitches.
After a walk, a swim and a nap, it’s time for dinner at Mr. Parker’s, the totally sweet old boys club restaurant on site, all decked out with plush dark leather and tasteful but still pin-uppy pictures of naked chicks. Um…am I missing something? This hotel seems to be mostly populated by middle aged women and gay men. But hey, hot women seem to get the money out of the wallets, even if subliminally.
So now of course I’m ready for a strike 6, and it seems to be teeing up right about now with a big sink back-up that is leaking all over the kitchen and threatening the dining room. As a former restaurant employee, I’ll tell you, they are freaking out about this way too much. Michael 2, the manager, is throwing down table cloths and anything he can find, but those things absorb all the water of a chipmunk. What you do is, you grab that big thing that looks like a mop but with a giant squeegee at the bottom, (although mops work well too, guys) and shove all the water toward the drain. You have to do this a few times throughout the night, but see? Crisis averted right there. But no, we have multiple drama queens tonight.
So far, no water has leaked into the dining room, but even if it does, Jason, my new favorite bartender lets us covertly in on the bartender’s mantra. If you get the customer drunk enough, they won’t care what else happens. So true, my friend, so true. This is soon evidenced by the fact that back in the kitchen they flip on the F5 force wet-dry vac, and while Jill’s table perks up out of their boozy comas for a moment when the tornado hits, they still barely notice. By the end of the meal they are drunk, well fed, and getting their asses kissed by Michael Mark II, so it seems all’s well that ends well. Are there any openings for a high end travel agent?
So before we get to Episode 3 of Welcome to the Parker, let me bring you up to speed on the season so far.
In Episodes 1 and 2, we learn some life lessons that can be carried with us far beyond our weekly foray into Palm Springs.
1) The trophy wives of rich, hot shot Hollywood industry players may get the Bentley, the cushion cut 9 carat diamond engagement rings and multi-million dollar homes, yes. But it seems that they still have to deal with the same jackassery as us normal girls do from the losers we’re dating. Let’s just say that a combination of booze, a man-tricycle (stolen, I believe from the room service people), ping pong and a hell of a lot of bacon burgers can revert even the most powerful men in America into 12-year-old boys.
2) Really disturbed people also tip really well when you help them fulfill their creepiest fantasies. And when I say disturbed people, I mean, for example, those who need bucket after bucket of ice to fill a bathtub. We never find out exactly why this guy needs it, but it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with removing kidneys, or with simulated necrophilia, as was my first guess. You know, hooker, tub full of ice, that kind of thing. More common than you’d think. Or so I hear…
3) Celebrity interior designer Jonathan Adler is a catty little bitch and needs a full-time fluffer. No, seriously. He said it himself. (Ok, he really means to fluff all the pillows and drapes and such, but it just sounded too good, and you know he wanted us to think that, too). Jonathan, also of Top Design reality fame, was the head designer of the Parker. On this trip he is informed that the hotel will soon have a “no dogs” policy, so of course he decides to fight the good fight for his Norwich Terrier the only way he knows how. More ping pong! Did I mention he named his dog Liberace? I don’t know, seems a little on-the-nose, don’t you think?
By the way, what’s with all the ping pong on this show? When it showed up twice over the course of two episodes, I couldn’t help but wonder - when were the drag queens, Asian women and big pink busses showing up? Ok, sorry, obscure reference. Just think Guy Pierce (the sexy guy from Momento), Hugo Weaving (Agent Smith from the Matrix and Elrond from LOTR) and the bad guy from Superman 3 in gloriously be-spangled drag singing I Will Survive. Freaking brilliant.
Anyhoodle, this week on Welcome to the Parker, entitled “Drag Queens and a Drama Queen,” the guest list includes party planner Doug Fregolle, Jill Johnson, a high end travel agent, and drag queen bingo! Can’t wait! It seems my visions of spangles in the hot sand were right on target, but neither of our queens this week is even in the same ballpark of hotness as Guy Pierce.
From my understanding of this particular culture (which I’ll admit is better than most, but not top-of-the-heap, seeing as I have, you know, a hoo-hoo), Palm Springs is kind of like the Wailing Wall for gay men. I first learned of this through my deep and passionate love affair with Queer as Folk. Ah, Emmett Honeycutt, my love, one day we will stroll arm in arm down Liberty Avenue maxing out all of the late pickle barron’s credit cards on tacky vinyl clothing. This is my wish. Every girl needs a gay boyfriend and Peter Paige is mine.
Back at the Parker, the first VIP guest up is Jill, who we are told expects the best, and millions of dollars in business rest on her happiness. So of course we know that this entire experience will be a massive, lube-free clusterfuck. Rick, our clueless receptionist, takes Jill and her entourage on an extended, unintended tour of the hallway before finally realizing that they aren’t even in the right building. I would have thought that Jill would have been a lot more annoyed about the whole thing, but she seems to find it funny, even taunting him a little as they go. Strike 1 guys.
Next we meet Doug Fregolle, the party planner who is throwing his annual Winter Wonderland party in the Gene Autry house, the uber-suite of the hotel, which as the name implies, was formerly Gene Autry’s home. Why the most chic, luxury residence in the hotel (it goes for $5,000 a night) was so proudly named after the Singing Cowboy, I can’t fathom (yeah, I know the whole place used to be his ranch, but they don’t name that one room at the Ambassador hotel in Milwaukee the Jeffrey Dahmer room, do they?)
For someone who plans parties for a living, though, Doug doesn’t seem to do much of the actual planning himself. When Doug starts spewing demands for the party (you know, the usual - tons of heat lamps, Christmas trees - in the middle of the desert - and an ice sculpture that pours martinis in the shape of Gene Autry on a horse), Michael, the new catering manager, seems in over his head. See, Michael gets flustered easily and seems to lack the ability to say no. Ahem. Either way, something will go horribly wrong this episode for Michael, I can tell already. Don’t you just love it when real life follows the reality show format?
When Doug tells Michael that there are going to be 120 people at this party, you can see Michael’s internal “oh shit” monitor go off. He confessionals that his boss Thomas told him that there were to be no parties over 100 people. Now Michael starts in on damage control, which is pretty obvious to everyone, because Doug seems actively intent on thwarting him at every turn. It’s like he wants Michael to get fired. Michael immediately begins trying to find out a way to reduce the headcount that he has to report to the boss, first hoping that people would rotate in an out, but no, Doug tells him that everyone always stays at his parties to the end. Me to the ow. Now Michael takes the passive aggressive route and tells Doug that he’s worried about 120 people sitting and spilling all over the house. Doug tells him that it won’t be an issue, because “No, MICHAL, they high end clients, they’re not SLOPPY.” Methinks I know who the title drama queen is…
Meanwhile, the producers create an aside to set us up for something to go explode by the end of the episode. Angela and Andrea, two of the more senior catering managers are talking to Thomas, the stern looking (German? Dane? I’m so awful with accents) boss about whether or not they should fire Michael because he’s not making enough progress. The shit inches ever closer to the fan.
Finally, much to my delight, our drag queens show up with one telling the bellhop that not only do they have a lot of emotional baggage, but a lot of other baggage as well. Ha ha large drag queen. So colorful. I was really hoping for some of those fabulous drag queens that are just as hot as men as they are as women. Or at least the ones that make really amazing women (I’ve always had a secret love for RuPaul, what do you want from me?). Haven’t seen their feminine sides yet, and I think Coco Peru might have something going in the classic yet obvious queen sense, but Bridgette of Madison County seems like he would be akin to a very tall Kathy Bates. I think he probably has to shop in Big and Tall stores for his men’s clothes. He must have a great seamstress for his evening wear. Can’t buy that stuff off the rack.
Drag Queen Bingo tonight is a fund raiser for a charity called A Journey to a Hate-Free Millennium, which is an organization that works with high school kids to promote tolerance. You work it girls! To add to the probability that Michel will soon find himself tied behind Thomas’ bumper being driven through a cactus patch, he is put to the task of organizing drag queen bingo. Some might be surprised by how uncomfortable he seems around the queens, but not me. My belief is that Michael’s into bears. Top Chef tie-in with Tom Colicchio please? I can see it now, it will be like Zeus coming down from the mountain…BEAR-QUAKE! GRRRRRR!
Next, Jill has an appointment with Alisa, the sales manager, who is to show her around the grounds. She shows up at the front desk, and is asked to wait for just a moment while Alisa is fetched. Immediately the slow and deliberate “waiting” music starts, and we know that this will not go well either. Fire Alisa! We haven’t even met her yet, and already I want her gone. Jill waits five minutes. Then ten. Then, of course, the producers decide to play their reality TV tricks on me, showing in large friendly letters that it is now 25 minutes later, 35 minutes later, and by my count, it’s been an hour and ten already.
Now Jill seems to be getting drunk while she waits. This lady I like. You have to wait? You get sloppy. Seems like a good rule to live by. Consider this strike 2.
Finally our German friend (I’m calling him German from now until the time that someone corrects me) Thomas walks by and Jill says “You’re not Alisa. Definitely.” No, but as evidenced by the staff’s morning meeting, he does seem to have a penchant for firing people as of late. Jill tells him about the trouble finding their room earlier. Thomas gets a look of pure masked fury on his face and with the sweetest voice and smile says “Let me find out Jill. Hold on one second.” He sounds so fake-cheery that now I think he might just be Irish – like, Lucky Charms Irish. Although if he didn’t have his strong accent, I would be slightly less inclined to believe that Rick will die from having ping pong balls, the seemingly most prevalent single item in the hotel, shoved violently into every orifice. And not in a good way. After he gets fired of course.
Jill’s so sweet, now she’s all freaked out that she may have just gotten Rick fired. If only you knew, Jill. But nothing happens to Rick that we see on camera. Instead Thomas goes to get Alisa, and when her and Jill finally meet, the total wait time flashes on the screen. 36 minutes? Huh? Tricky freaking producers.
Alisa explains the long wait as follows: “They said, ‘do you want to see her right now?’ I said, ‘she probably wants some time to just…uuugh’ (don’t know how to spell the sound of a deep cleansing breath).” Bullshit, skinny bitch! You don’t have someone that’s worth millions of dollars to your business sit there so they have time to…uuugh! Okay, Rick’s really not the problem now. On the tour of the grounds, Alisa tries to show Jill one of the Superior Guest Rooms and walks straight into two separate rooms that are occupied – by the looks on her and Jill’s faces, my guess would be that one room contained some boning. They both snuck another look, too. Strike 3.
After that debacle, they decide to lay out and get some skin cancer. Along comes Gilberto, the pool boy, (not as hot as it sounds) and Jill asks for him to spritz her and her entourage with Evian. Ok, this I haven’t heard of, but apparently this type of thing is actually done. Jill, won’t you please think of Namibia? Some people don’t have water to drink, and you want to be gently spritzed by the finest mountain water of the Alps? But you know, I think if it had been left at that, there would have been no strike 4, but Gilberto decides to bring them sopping wet washcloths instead, which they proceed to make fun of and chuck at each other. Strike 4.
We now head back to Michael and the drag queens, and not only is Michael in charge of the drag queen bingo, but now he’s suddenly asked to provide prizes out of his ass. Actually, that might have been better. No one wants to help him gather prizes (not the ass variety) and no one want to give him any money for it, (again, off the subject of butt. Stop thinking about it. Seriously.) so he’s stuck in the office gathering things that people normally steal from room service. Oh yeah, and some T-shirts. But come on Michael, if you’re going to be giving out prizes that people could steal from the room, why not hit the mini bar? I think this crowd would appreciate booze more than bathrobes and such.
Back in Jill’s room, she’s getting ready for a nice nap, but when she climbs into bed, what does she find? A rip in the sheet big enough to be a glory hole on the South side of Chicago, that’s what. I mean, most of the stuff that has happened so far, I would probably accept at a hotel, because I’m cheap and I’m not expecting much from anywhere that rents by the hour. But a giant tear in the sheet? Not cool. Strike 5, bitches.
After a walk, a swim and a nap, it’s time for dinner at Mr. Parker’s, the totally sweet old boys club restaurant on site, all decked out with plush dark leather and tasteful but still pin-uppy pictures of naked chicks. Um…am I missing something? This hotel seems to be mostly populated by middle aged women and gay men. But hey, hot women seem to get the money out of the wallets, even if subliminally.
So now of course I’m ready for a strike 6, and it seems to be teeing up right about now with a big sink back-up that is leaking all over the kitchen and threatening the dining room. As a former restaurant employee, I’ll tell you, they are freaking out about this way too much. Michael 2, the manager, is throwing down table cloths and anything he can find, but those things absorb all the water of a chipmunk. What you do is, you grab that big thing that looks like a mop but with a giant squeegee at the bottom, (although mops work well too, guys) and shove all the water toward the drain. You have to do this a few times throughout the night, but see? Crisis averted right there. But no, we have multiple drama queens tonight.
So far, no water has leaked into the dining room, but even if it does, Jason, my new favorite bartender lets us covertly in on the bartender’s mantra. If you get the customer drunk enough, they won’t care what else happens. So true, my friend, so true. This is soon evidenced by the fact that back in the kitchen they flip on the F5 force wet-dry vac, and while Jill’s table perks up out of their boozy comas for a moment when the tornado hits, they still barely notice. By the end of the meal they are drunk, well fed, and getting their asses kissed by Michael Mark II, so it seems all’s well that ends well. Are there any openings for a high end travel agent?