I'll be honest, I feel a little relieved that Charlie is gone now. He was certainly talented, but his presence on the show made me nervous. He was to the show like a friend's little brother who their parents made your friend take along on whatever you were doing, but you knew that he would end up getting hurt and making way too big a deal about it.

"Are you OK?" "NO-uhh!" You know, that kid.

Now we can focus on the eight remaining contestants who aren't Charlie. Are they even worth getting to know? Shanna might be. Michael and Blake worry that they might be too similar, and equally unworthy of our time.

"I think we're really similar, but also we're really different," Blake notes. These waters run deep. Their intelligence is the common thread that ties these two attractive men, and makes them two parallel rivers, both similar but yes, at times, different. A regular Buddhist parable, these two.

"I would gnaw off my own left foot to win this competition," Michael ponders.

Robert strolls into the room, which is now less agitated without the presence of Charlie, and announces that the theme is theatricality. This causes Lily to slam a throw pillow onto the floor with excitement. They are doing a good job being theatrical about how excited they are for the theme, you see. Just give these kids a job already, Robert, they are totally ready.

Ali feels that she can really shine in theatricality week, and probably wasn't listening as Robert Ulrich explained that it's about making theatricality translate to television rather than the stage. But why would anyone listen to Robert at this point? He immediately negates that last statement by announcing that this week's homework assignment is "I Hope I Get It" from A Chorus Line. Confession: I listen to this song all the time, from the privacy of my own earbuds, and when Robert announced that it was the homework, I practically hurled a throw pillow across the room as well.

Michael is not as enthusiastic as the rest of the theater kids in the room. For he spent more time doing math in high school, and less time wearing capes, cuddling on the prop couches with anyone and everyone, and watching any non-Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals from the library to make himself seem more advanced in front of his peers. Michael has done the math in this particular situation, and deduced that there are only three guys left in the competition, which means theoretically that he should up his "game" quotient by at least 90 percent should he wish to move into the far-right quadrant of contestants. No, I don't know, I obviously spent way more time listening to the West Side Story soundtrack than I did cracking open some stupid math book. Tony, Tony, Tonyyyyyyy...