The last group is Gerry, Josh, Lisa, and Amy. Gerry comments that he didn't care how the swimsuit felt, but that he was concerned about his look: "A guy my size in a Speedo is not a pretty sight." Hey, I've seen Mike Boogie dressed like Dracula, Gerry. There's nowhere to go but up. As Amy exits the tank, her shorts are around her knees, so I'm assuming she's waving pretty much everything she has at the people behind her. She eventually pulls it together. Indeed, as he feared, this turns out to be a rather poor look for Gerry. He has a sizeable version of the slime bulge Eric mentioned earlier, which in his case is an even more serious problem, because it drags down the ill-fitting suit. As he gets to the bottom of the ladder and steps off, his suit takes a dive, and the editors have to pixilate his naked ass. I think that's one of those things that really changes your life. Once you've been a person who's had your ass pixilated on television, you really can't go back. Eric somberly states in the diary room that he may have nightmares about Gerry's bikini look. Aw, don't be mean. Hee.

They have won hot-tub privileges. What a surprise. I'm sure the producers were hesitant to allow them to spend a lot of time nearly naked. They all take showers in the back yard, and Eric talks about what a good bonding experience it was. When you've been naked in a pit of slime with someone, after all, that is true friendship. They arrive at the hot-tub later to find it surrounded by candles and (once again) a vat of booze on ice. I really am starting to find the booze-pushing a little distasteful, actually. Everybody climbs into the tub. Lori mentions that the conditions were so favorable that she "rocked even later than [she's] been rockin' every night, ya know?" Okay, the same memo that says people from Wisconsin don't say "bring it on" says that people from Wisconsin don't say "rockin' every night." It's just wrong. But they all looove the tub. Toasting, bonding, drinking, admiring the collection of chests.