They're going to be doing the foxtrot with Louis van Amstel, who says if you can imagine Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire on the dance floor, that's the foxtrot. WTF? We don't have to imagine that, that's what it is! That's like saying, "If you can imagine the New York Yankees playing a game in which teams of nine take turns batting and fielding, that's baseball." Brandon and Janette say at first they were picking it up easily, but the more complicated it got, the tougher it was for them to do.
Oh, great, the first Michael Bublé song of the year. The two of them look amazing, with Janette in a long, flowing pink dress and Brandon in a black jacketless suit with a matching boutonnière. They glide across the stage, dip and twirl, effortlessly, and the piece climaxes with an amazing -- I don't know what you call it, but Brandon lifts up Janette with arms extended and then spins around, and twirls her down around his neck onto the floor.
Adam makes a crack about America being disappointed with Brandon dancing in clothes, and I think Adam can strive for a little bit more than being the gay Nigel, and then he says he was worried that after a high-energy number like the Bollywood routine that a foxtrot would seem staid, but it was "absolutely lovely." Adam praises Brandon's character and performance, which he'd never seen from Brandon before. Cat says something about Mary raising an eyebrow and giving her verdict, and then Mary says she can't: "Too much Botox!" and everyone reacts like it's the funniest thing they've ever heard, especially Mary, who laughs harder at her own joke than I've ever seen anyone laugh at anything ever. My god. I don't know if I can take a full season of her. This screaming business gets more annoying every year. When Mary finishes screaming, Nigel praises Janette's carriage. Nigel says Brandon's big moves were terrific but he needs a little work on his tiny feet sometimes.
Then we get Ashley and Kupono. Ashley's tried out for this show four times, which taught her not to give up. Kupono started teaching, which doesn't pay the bills, so he does a lot of side jobs with his dad, like, apparently, throwing gang signs while wearing hazmat suits. He's scraped mildew off walls and assembled shopping carts, which he says are the crappiest jobs you'll ever do. I think of way worse jobs than that. I can also think of way worse jobs that wouldn't seem all that bad if you were doing them in Hawaii, too.
They're doing a jazz routine by Wade Robson, who says conceptually the piece is about crash test dummies, as in the testing devices for the automotive industry, and not the '90s Canadian folk-rock band. As usual when someone works on a jazz routine, someone makes a jazz hands joke.