At any rate, the peeps will once again have five guys to work with. Despite the fact that there are only five guys left standing on the risers to be called down, the audience still applauds each of them as his name is called, as if he's won something. Wooo! Perhaps it's a way of congratulating them for getting down to the stage without falling. First up is Joshua, our twenty-five-year-old investment banker, who has curly blond hair and big shiny teeth. Joshua reminds me absolutely eerily of someone, but I cannot for the life of me figure out who it is. It's quite honestly driving me nuts. I was thinking for a while that it was a Bunim-Murray person of some vintage, but now I'm thinking it's not. Right behind Joshua, we have Xavier, a.k.a. "Frenchie," who reminds us that he's twenty-nine. "I eem-port clothes from Europe," he explains. I can't help it -- his nicely cut suit makes me think dirty thoughts about accounting. Next, Sean calls down Scott, a rather dull-looking fellow with a mop of discouraged hair; he reminds us that he's in "sales." That's got to be my favorite description of a person's occupation. Could be an international buyer, could work the counter in the men's department at Mervyn's, could go from house to house pushing kitchen cleaner made from oranges. We just don't know. I guess that's what makes him fascinating. Sigh. He makes a really bizarre remark that he's glad he did this, because he and Jennifer "would have never met in a bar." Wha-huh? Yeah, anyway. Next up is Paul, who memorably brought up his affection for Evil Dead 2 during the premiere episode. He says, "I'm a web developer and screenwriter from Los Angeles, California...and a heck of a good guy." I'm sorry, but the first and second halves of that sentence simply do not go together. Finally, we have Jeremy, the very, very irritating self-appointed "funny guy," who starts off like he's going to do stand-up and once again refers to his hometown as "Hot-lanta, Georgia," and therefore is once again dead to me. Dead! As if that weren't enough, he says, "All right, woo!" during his own introduction. He's like the host of his own little dork party. He's blowing up his own balloons, he's got the party hats, and he doesn't need anyone's permission to make his own fun. Stand back -- he's got a kazoo!