Scintillating. Aubrey, whose perma-bandana must be there to cover up her hormone therapy patches, can't wait to tell Bret. She notices Bret throwing a football around with Big John, and figures she can throw a ball, kinda. Something tells me that Aubrey can kinda do a lot of things with a ball. Bret is wearing a Steelers shirt, holla. Aubrey throws the ball poorly so Big John has to retrieve it, then announces, "Let's talk!" to Bret. She asks what Bret is looking for in a woman, and gives "sincerity" and "honesty" as examples of appropriate answers. Poor, deluded, she-male Aubrey. Bret tells her that physical attraction and chemistry are the most important things, though at some point you have to have "some form of honesty." Some form of honesty? Is that like Bret saying he still has "some form of hair" on the top of his head? As I once read on a bottlecap, the truth, much like Bret's weave after a long night of fraternizing with his 20 new lady loves, is slippery like eels. Aubrey spills the beans about Sara and the dare, and Bret doesn't seem to care, saying that sometimes the best relationships form by accidents. And the best babies. (Hi Mom!) Bret, not knowing if all of this is true or if it's part of Aubrey's strategy, is going to take a bit and think this over. I thought I smelled something burning.
Hey, there's a box of props! And Bret Mail! Oh, God, and Angelique gets to read it. She announces that it's a song before reading, "I need a woman wiz talent and style / Keep me unterested un you will stay for a while. / Today each of you give me a peek / Uv what you zink make you unique / Shake eet a leetle / Shake it a lot / Be sure to show me what you got!" Those last three lines are totally straight from a Poison song. People aren't entirely sure what the fuck Angelique is talking about, but their best guess is that it's a talent show. And I mean, quels idiots. A talent show on Rock of Love is like a talent show on the Miss Universe Pageant: pointless. And, like, all their talents are going to involve poles and ping-pong balls and doing impressions of what their cooters looked like pre-labiapasty. Oh, except Destiney. Her talent is kung-fu.