Farewell messages. Porsche says she couldn't risk taking Jordan into the final three, with her bonds with Rachel and Adam. Adam pathetically sucks up to her, and Rachel apologizes to her for not being able to "save us." She talks about their boyfriends' "bromance" and their "chickmance" and tells her to go to the jury house proudly. Well, Jeff will be happy to see her. Sort of.
Reminder of America's Vote for $25,000 to go to the favorite houseguest. I'm thinking it's not going to be Shelly.
The Final HoH competition is about begin. I just can't get enough of the word "final." The final three are standing on small platforms on what looks like a giant mixer, over a big pool of yellow water. It's going to be one of those "last person standing" things, which means Rachel is going to win it, and get to the final two, and test Jordan's prediction. But for now, we just get to watch them spin for a bit. After a minute, there's a blast of colored spooge from somewhere off-camera, and Julie sends us to commercial while the still-whirling platform is slowly being lowered into the pool until the contestants are about knee-deep. Which is symbolic of this whole season, somehow.
When we come back from the ads, they're all still up there, which is an unprecedented feat of endurance for Adam. Julie reminds us that the live finale airs at 9:30 on Wednesday, when there'll be a final HoH, a reunion of all the houseguests (including Evel Dick, dammit), and the determination of the winner. We go out watching them still spinning around, still knee-deep in the pool. Props to Adam for making it all the way through the credits, at least.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.