But anyway. We see how Lisa kicked Danielle's butt in the Little Red Hat endurance competition, and there you have it. A little evil, a lot of luck, and some tolerance for tooth-chattering, and here sit your final two. Next, a series of quick shots -- slime tank, peanut butter bikinis, Eric and Lisa, dead gnomes, Sheryl Crow, hygiene smackdown, chicken livers, sponges -- what a season it's been! How is it possible that it wasn't more interesting? Maybe if there had been more foodborne illness. It certainly felt like there was an adequate supply of nausea, though. Must be something else.
All twelve original houseguests toast themselves in blue and white. Ah, alcohol. My sweet friend. Then Danielle and Lisa toast each other, and say "final two" for about the twelfth time in these first five minutes. Okay, someone's getting slapped. And not with my hand, either. I'm looking around the apartment for something handy, and the pan I made dinner in is looking pretty good.
Julie reminds us that the ten evictees are back to give their votes. We go to a large living-room set, where all ten of those who've gone before are sitting around in a circle, preparing to act just about the way they did when they were in the house, except with better wardrobe and less card-playing. And with no one watching them in the bathroom, I guess. Tonya gets the self-pity-fest off to a flying start. She says that she had a really difficult time with the things people said about her that she didn't get to see until she got home. She singles out Marcellas -- probably at least in part because of the "stripper masquerading as a mother" speech, although I think she was able to get the sense from reading about the feeds that he and Amy were pretty thoroughly brutal in the way they talked about her from Day One. (That would be Marcellas of the Big Golden Heart of Huge Enormous Sweetness, as he would undoubtedly characterize it.) "My kids saw that," she says with sadness and a sort of heavy-handed, guilt-inducing dismay that you'd think might be reserved for a woman who didn't walk around wearing nothing but food quite as often as this particular woman did. I mean, I understand that you don't have to become a sexless drone just because you have kids, and I'm not denying her her fun, but it looks to me like she uses her kids here to leverage sympathy that's just not called for. And that's pretty bad. If you want people to be guarded about what they say about you in front of your kids, you have to behave like you at least care that your kids are watching. Which she didn't.