"A-List: New York" Episode 210 Recap: "Jersey Sores"

You kinda have to feel sorry for those drunken messes on MTV's Jersey Shore. Those kids spend four grueling seasons pissing themselves in bars, passing out in random gutters, beating the hell out of each other and just maybe giving their unfortunate sex partners enough crabs to stock every Red Lobster in the Eastern seaboard.

But it only took a single episode of A-List: New York to join their league as one of the worst things to ever happen to New Jersey.

The second season finale starts with Austin and hubby Jake with two of their friends heading to Atlantic City in a gargantuan, electric pink Hummer-Limo. The nicest thing I could say about this hideous vehicle is it looked exactly the way you’d think a Pepto-colored suppository would look like.

They apparently rented this thing so that the boys could travel in style to the (not so) big bachelor party weekend for Austin and Jake, though a bachelor party for two people who are already married seems a tad idiotic.

But on this show, a tad idiotic could almost be considered quaint. So I'll move on.

Aside from the awful and on-going Austin bitchfest where he complains about his friends not being his friends anymore ("Here's some champagne for my real friends and some real pain for my sham friends"), they get the weekend started by playing a drinking game that leads to the removal of clothes.

Of course, the only clothing being removed belongs to Austin. He strips off his shirt, pants and, finally, his underwear. Then he spreads his legs and shows his 'taint to the world.

I'm absolutely confident this is how that super-virus in Contagion got airborne.

Elsewhere, Derek, Ryan, Rodiney and Reichen arrive at their Garden State hotel, probably the same one Austin and Jake are at, given the budget of this show is probably a dollar higher than renting your own, ahem, luggage handler. But they aren't there for Austin's big weekend. Instead, they're in town to support (and by support, I mean contractually obligated to attend) Nyasha's live debut performance.

They get together for a spa day before the (cough) show. It looks like they need it.

Ryan looks like he’s auditioning for the touring company for that Color Purple musical… as Celie. Reichen looks a bit tired. Rodiney doesn’t look too bad, but he hasn’t spoken yet, so that could soon change.

But no one looks like they need spa time more than rage-a-holic Derek. With his pinched face, perpetual scowl and all-around bad attitude, he looks like he’s been forced into reading those Twilight books… while constipated. Maybe he’s just backed up with righteous indignation.

Talk begins with Nyasha, whom they’re all there to see. While discussing her, um, less than graceful way of accepting criticisms, Rodiney imitates her in a series of high-pitched screeches sounding uncannily like the ritual killing of Unicorns and dreams.

I thought it was a brilliant depiction. But, surprisingly, this does not go over well with the others. Celie -- um, Ryan thinks Rodiney has lost his mind.

Once that topic has been exhausted, they move on to talk about life, their hopes for the planet, and the state of the -- oh, who am I kidding.

They talk about the Big Bad Secret of Jake and Austin’s supposedly revolving bedroom doors.

The plan is for Reichen to confront Austin about his hypocrisy -- given Austin’s relentless judgments against his relationship with Rodiney while pretending everything was just peachy with his own life. Rodiney thinks Reichen is too soft to actually go through with it.

Uniball? Soft? Perish the thought.

Suddenly, I’m picturing Rodiney as Lady Macbeth (okay, he’s just dressed like Lady Macbeth. He actually sounds closer to Yoda) berating Reichen to stick a dagger into Austin’s cold beating heart.

Why are you looking at me like that? I never said I wasn’t dark.

Let’s move on to more pleasant news. Mike Ruiz is getting married to Martin. And he’s is leaving the show.

All-American Awesomeness Margaret Cho makes a brief appearance to have dinner with Mike and ask him questions about marriage. I'm just gonna call it right here and now. Worst. Foreshadowing. Ever.

Do you get the feeling that, when cameras weren’t running, Margaret Cho and Kathy Griffin were staging interventions to get him off the show (“Mike, you’re limited associations with these D-bags have negatively impacted me in the following ways…”)?

Later, Mike and Martin sit down to dinner and Mike pops the question, explaining that he wants to grow old with him and change Martin’s Depends when the time comes.

For a moment, it looks like Martin will turn him down. But that’s just a bit of editing fakery. Martin accepts and the two of them cry and promise a life of happiness and great sex.

It’s not that I’m not excited for their upcoming nuptials, but I’m more excited that Mike’s emancipated from this dreck. I am now living vicariously through you, Ruiz. Make me proud... Make me proud.

As much as I want to marinate in this, I suppose it’s time we got back to the drama. So the confrontation happens… What can I say about it? Austin shows up to Reichen’s hotel room with a beer already in hand. One look at him tells us the lights are on, but nobody’s home.

Ryan is also there but it’s hard to tell which of his two faces he has on.

Austin denies (for half a second at best) the rumors of infidelity in their relationship, but breaks down and cries about not fully trusting Jake and believing that his husband has, in fact, been unfaithful.

He denies the accusation that he’s also cheated on Jake, conveniently forgetting Little Fluffer Dude from his Playgirl test shoot. Or is that not considered cheating. Damn you, Bill Clinton.

As Rodiney predicted, Austin’s tears work. They fold faster than an origami swan under the Rush Limbaugh's ass and tell him that while they can’t support Austin’s relationship, they will support Austin.

I suddenly think back to Rob Owen’s Pittsburgh Post-Gazette article that transcribes Austin's fury over being called a D-List celebrity. I don't feel even the slightest bit of sympathy for Austin but in the interest of fairness, I have to side with him over this article's aspersions.

Honestly, Rob… writer-to-writer here. There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet and the lowest you thought to go was D?

I am getting off track again.