TyJuan watches the guys perform and shakes his head, ashamed. At one point, TyJuan cradles his head in his hands and mourns the end of his career. For revenge, he waves his hand and orders the band into a set of push-ups. It's amazing that there's no learning curve here. What with the amount of punishment push-ups they're forced to do, you'd think the guys would have developed some skill, or at least endurance. But as it is, Jack Palance could probably shame them. As they huff and puff and blow Trans Con down, the screen splits and TyJuan points out that this takes more hard work because they're skipping so many steps. Apparently, the biggest in the pile of problems is synchronicity. TyJuan tells them he should be able to take pictures at any stage of the dance, and have those images show five guys in exactly the same position. "None of us have been in a group before," Jacob reminds us. "We can't be a centimeter off." As he talks about how they're too much a fledgling group to be in sync (hee!), we're treated to photographic proof. The camera shows several stills from rehearsal, and each shot is a jumble of bodies, flailing arms and mistimed turns. It's like if the Rockettes performed after chugging a six-pack and smoking the magic herb.
Clutching the long, hard microphone stand and feeling a sudden surge of manliness, Jacob rails on the other four guys for not snapping and clapping on the appointed beats. For this reason, Mini-Lou puckers up and pecks Jacob's smug behind. "Jacob has a better perspective on the energy level and focus that's required," Li'l Jabba says in a confessional. A cameraman spits this back to TyJuan in the form of a question, and so TyJuan gamely repeats, "I think Jacob does have a better perspective on what they need to do, and that they're not doing it properly at the present time." You know, I wish someone would tell me which guy, of the five, has the best perspective. Holy blow job, Batman. I really feel confident that nothing inside Jacob's pants is worth all that effort to get down them. And he doesn't need any ego-boosting anyway: "If I had to do the show, no more rehearsals and it was just myself, I think I'd be ready," Jacob boasts uselessly. That's impressive, since it takes so much skill to synchronize a party of one. O-Town gathers around TyJuan, who's sitting on an amp and trying to think of a tactful way to tell the guys they're going to make asses of themselves. "The brutal truth is, you're not going to be at the level you should be when you're on that stage," TyJuan says. Yeah, that covers it. He reminds them there are no edits or do-overs in a live show, so Ikaika stares at the floor and Trevor looks sad and scared. Erik pouts. Jacob looks elsewhere, since TyJuan's obviously not lecturing anyone as skilled as he. Ashley confides to the camera that the constant haranguing from TyJuan, Jay, Ray and Mini-Lou turns on some very productive pressure. But at times, Ash admits, it's overwhelming because the group never feels good enough -- quite possibly because it's nowhere near good enough, but of course, I'm not one to editorialize.