Okay, back to me. Thanks, Shack! Have fun with Simon! Tell Justin I said he sucks! And has bad hair! And isn't even Dean Cain, let alone Dean Martin! Anyway, the next (and last) challenge pits Marcellas against Roddy, and the food is...deep-fried chicken livers! Marcellas just about drops his teeth at the word "livers," but he gamely gets in there and does his best. Roddy eventually challenges him to eat five of what Roddy calls "bile-filtering livers," which is a little bit funny and wicked, and that's why I can't completely resist Roddy. Marcellas looks like he couldn't even stand to smell five of these livers, let alone actually eat five of them. "It was truly my nightmare on a plate," he says. But he plunges in anyway. "It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me," Marcellas moans in the diary room. Oh, come on, now, Marcellas. I doubt that. The long and the short of this segment is that, with lots of encouragement and cajoling, as well as Chariots of Hot Plates music on the soundtrack, Marcellas gags his way through the chicken livers and earns the love and respect of his teammates. He actually shows a lot of determination here, because he really does not want to eat this stuff. So it's a good moment for him. He literally takes it right down to a last minute gag with "actual vomit in [his] mouth," but he makes it. He is very traumatized, but everyone loves him. Isn't that nice? Danielle, of course, is pissed, because she has to eat peanut butter and jelly again.
More of Eric talking in his sleep. My local station is running a crawl across the bottom of the screen listing the lucky counties that are about to be blown into Wisconsin, so some of the time, I can't actually see the yellow subtitles that translate what Eric is saying -- you'd be surprised how much you miss the yellow subtitles when you don't have them. My favorite part is when Josh reveals that at one point, Eric whistled in his sleep and said, "Now it's time for singing and dancing!" Man, I hope that's true. I mean, I hope it's true that Eric said it. I don't really hope it's time for singing and dancing, because I think it's safe to say we've all suffered enough without being subjected to Gerry's rendition of "Stout-Hearted Men," accompanied by Chiara jumping around and thrusting her pelvis all over the place. Anyway, we see Eric in night-vision-land with Lisa, jabbering on about a wide variety of things, but nothing as good as "my tough toes tingle," in my opinion. At one point, Lisa gets wigged out because Eric says something in his sleep that sounds threatening to her, and she deserts the bed in a panic. He eventually talks her down, and all is well. You know, of all the non-dramatic non-wrenching non-crises we've seen so far, I think the Great Sleeptalking Panic probably takes the prize for Least Compelling. And that is really saying something. How big do you suppose that trophy is?