It's Monday night, so pull on your full-body prophylactic and settle onto the couch, because Bachelor Pad is on! Yay? As per usual, the editors don't want us viewers to miss even a moment of the intense drama (see if you can say that with a straight face) that makes up each episode, so they cut to the second we left off last Monday. Natalie is consoling Dave (her double secret air quote boyfriend), and she thinks that Dave had to make a ridiculous decision. I assume she means deciding to come on this show. But she clarifies: He actually had to choose someone to kick off, and THAT is ridiculous. As opposed to the entire series of unfortunate events that led him to think that a life spent on increasingly awful reality television shows is somehow a wise choice. I mean, CHOICES, Dave! And I'm not talking about the choice between one vapid, pipsqueak drama queen (Gia) and one loud-mouthed, bleachy-haired honky (Elizabeth) who happens to be your fake friend's sometimes girlfriend.
Anyway, Wes is unhappy that Dave sent his momentary flame home to hang out with her boyfriend when it was clear to everyone watching that Gia's Wall of Boyfriendness that she was hiding behind was crumbling bit by bit, and with just a few more hours of platonic cuddling Wes would totally get Gia to philander on national television. Dave (correctly) calls Wes a jackass, but the pot-kettle nature of the jab is too much for Wes. He storms off claiming that he has never met a group of people more full of shit in his entire life, which is pretty impressive labeling considering he was on an actual season of The Bachelorette.. Outside, Wes tells Peculiar Jesse and Vampire Queen Gwen that he wants to arrange a pugilistic contest with Dave, because, yeah, why the fuck not? Gwen points out that it would probably not help his chances at building long-lasting friendships or winning the $250,000 carrot they keep holding in front of these horses. Wes pouts instead.
Somebody ding-dong-ditches, and Natalie opens the door to find a flaming bag of dog poop left by Chris Harrison, who is totally baked right now, and a basket full of clipboards. The clipboards hold a survey that everyone is supposed to answer honestly and keep the answers confidential. No sharing, no collaborating, no copying (Tenley). Tenley looks very troubled by the idea of having to form an actual opinion without either crying or giggling. If she knew how to write answers to things, she would still be enrolled in Temecula Junior College, okay? [For the love of doughnuts, please don't write in listing Tenley's varied and multitudinous achievements, because I don't care. Whatever she has achieved has been unilaterally destroyed by her decision to appear on this show.] Everyone seriously and studiously fills out their surveys, writing in specific detail what they hate about everyone else in the house. Looks like the house is heading straight back to Junior High. Whee?