Welcome to round 2 of Setup Squad, Logo’s dating docu-reality show, which is like a cross between Intervention for hopeless singles and Fight Club for the staff.
As the funky bunch sits at the firm’s conference table, Renee introduces the next two clients. First is Toy, a 34-year-old woman with “a lot of personality.” This isn’t the type of toy found in the teddy bear section of F.A.O. Schwartz; this is the type of toy you find in the Rockstar Games section of Gamestop, the section where you find video games where you roam the streets with an Uzi and mow people down at will.
Toy’s idea of snagging an eligible bachelor is peppering the poor bastard with questions about his dating history, willingness to get hitched, personality flaws, criminal history, medical records, oral hygiene, tax returns, willingness to be a whipping boy on a scale from one to 10, and other personal questions, machine gun style until he slumps to the ground, convulsing in a pool of his own blood. Says Jonathan, “I get this feeling that she’s going to walk up to a guy in a bar and say, ‘Hi, I’m Toy, and I need a credit check and please pee in a cup.’” Helen is assigned to disarm the terrible Toy.
The next client is Emanuel, a gay attorney who used to be morbidly obese but dropped over 150 pounds. Still, he has confidence issues and is not comfortable in his own skin. He has also never been in a relationship. Jonathan immediately identifies with him. “I get it,” he says, “I used to be there. You should see my bar mitzvah photos. I look like an oompa loompa in a yarmulke.” Renee assigns him to the task.
Jonathan takes Emanuel to a gay bar and encourages him to speak to a cute boy named Andrew, and Emanuel’s attempt at being a Cassanova is basically shuffling back and forth, nervously clutching his hands together and going “…”
“I don’t understand!” exclaims Jonathan. “How does a lawyer have nothing to say?” Hmm. Maybe it’s because lawyers are generally former nerds who are overly cerebral, uptight, and risk averse; if they had any shred of bravery or social skills whatsoever they would have gone to business school. (Full disclosure: I’m an attorney.) Shows like Law and Order and The Practice are telling lies, people. All lies.
Next, Meredith and Lauretta have drinks, and the conversation revolves around one person, Meredith’s girlfriend Randi. As the conversation progresses, Meredith’s eyes mist over, cartoon birds start encircling her head like buzzards, and she is transported to a galaxy far far away. Like a fat kid who has been spirited away to a fantasy world called Candyland, Meredith flits off to Randiland, and she’s never coming back. In fact, she admits that she may even be willing to move to La La Land, the bizarre fantasy world known as Los Angeles. Sacre bleu! This is serious stuff. It’s like moving to a different planet. No, it is moving to a different planet. Meredith may even have to re-learn the ability to drive! What’s a steering wheel? Which one is the brake? What is this thing called a gas pump and why does the putrid smelling stuff coming out of it cost so much? This land is so foreign and scary!
Meanwhile, Helen takes Toy to a bar and encourages her to speak to a dashing young man with dreadlocks named Kareem. Over the course of the next few minutes, Toy batters poor Kareem with a verbal assault that Helen compares to waterboarding. You can see the fear in Kareem’s eyes as he secretly scopes for available exits before Toy’s relentless verbal blitzkriegs transform him from Kareem the cool cat into a puddle of Kareem of wheat lying impotently on the ground to be swept up by the cleaning crew at the end of the night. Helen shakes her head and admits that Toy isn’t going to be an easy nut to crack. The operative word here is of course “nut.”
Kareem pulls a Kareem Abdul Jabbar and starts bookin’ it