And we're back ... turns out the stuff that looked like blood was just drinks. All the members of the Hot Squad seem to be at varying levels of miffed and disgusted. Only Julia asks if he's okay.
Hadiyyah-Lah THs that she's convinced the waiter spilled on them on purpose because he was "hating." Laura flips the hell out because her "lucky gold shoes" got spilt upon. Elsewhere, we see Ray wiping up Joel's face, and all the judges croon at what a nice gesture it is. "It's a bromance!" squeals Minnillo! Wrong show, beeyatch. Ray has taken to wiping down Monique as well. So far, Ray is in the lead.
And now it's time for the judges to meet the Hot Squad. Minnillo et al pop out and introduce themselves to the crew as the hosts and judges. Julia and Ray TH that they were just so excited and yadda yadda. Minnillo explains that the ten contestants have earned the right to compete to be the world's most beautiful person, and reveals what the prizes are. Everyone flips out, of course. Minnillo tells them to go home and rest up. And by "go home," she means "go inside," because wouldn't you know it? The house where the party is being held is actually their very own fabulous mansion! So many surprises! Requisite interior design porn ensues as the crew freaks about the gorgitude of the house. Chelsea THs that in each of their rooms over their beds are Warhol-ish portraits of them. I am still marveling at the fact that this woman made it onto this show. Not saying the others are truly the most incredible feats of genetics, but bitch looks like she made a wrong turn at the Rock of Love casting call. Real talk.
Next morning at Casa de Beauty, we get a little glimpse into the regimens of the young and sexay, which involve eyelash curlers and elliptical machines. So much for natural beauty! We see footage of the dudes working out on the veranda as Chelsea, a self-confessed conceited a-hole, THs that all the guys in the house are only concerned about their looks and their muscles. A little late to be judging people for being narcissistic, doncha think Sugarplum? She makes one exception -- CJ, who is parked conspicuously at the dining room table scribbling in a journal so as to invite people to ask what he is doing. He reads some of what he's writing to Chelsea, something about being a fat kid when he was little and crying himself to sleep. Tragedies! Chelsea, who's sporting some serious zit-cream, attempts a fake cry, TH-ing that she was touched by CJ's writing because it was so passionate. A heart-to-heart between the two about their respective experiences being fat in high school ensues.