Previously on For The Love Of All That Is Good And Holy, Lill, Put Some Pants On: Sandra sidled up to Darrah to talk about uniting the women against Jon and Burton, but Darrah seemed to think it was a little early for that. Lill, Darrah, and Jon finished at the front of a reward challenge on the back of Sandra's ineptitude, and lolled about in a variety of beige clothing that called to mind fabric made of spun baby poo. Jon proved to be quite the sophisticated gourmet: 1999 was an excellent year for chicken fingers, and the chef had whipped up an unassuming little honey mustard that was worth trying. He also flung around a little more fetid nostalgia about Dead Old Granny Fairplay, who must now be deceased as a result being flogged by her grandson if for no other reason. Lill tried to get Burton to recommit to his alliance with her, and he told her, not to put too fine a point on it, "Don't count on me down the road, there, Pantsless Polly." Darrah won her second consecutive immunity by proving that the expectations of the audience are not the only things in which she can blow a sizeable hole. Darrah helped Jon and Burton to create the impression that Lill was packing her Scout gear and preparing to scoot, but at tribal council, there were enough unbridled neigh-sayers to see that it was Christa who finished a few lengths behind.
Credits. Boy, it is amazing how quickly these people fade from memory when they're eliminated. I mean...Shawn? Michelle? Andrew? Who? They're like the people who were a year behind me in high school: I have no idea what became of them, I vaguely remember not liking them, and given the opportunity to catch up with them, I wouldn't. Oh, and also? Badly dressed.
Commercials. Nothing says "holidays" like bright pink lip gloss. It really is a wonderful life.
We return to Camp Balboa. Look, a snake! A slithering snake! I wonder if it's the metaphorical kind. I love when the reptiles stand for stuff. Anyway, it is Night 33, and the tribe members are returning from the Christa boot. Jon and Burton are feeling fat and happy, to say the least, in the wake of what they assume is the triumph that will take them to the final two. Jon tells Sandra that before she loses her temper with him over the ousting of Christa, she should know that Christa offered to vote Sandra out all day. In an interview, Burton grins the biggest shit-eating grin you have ever seen in your life as he brags about the way he and Jon blindsided Christa. "Chalk another one up for Jon and me!" Burton says, waving a red cape in front of Froody, the official bull mascot of the concept of schadenfreude. It's really a little unseemly, the peculiar pleasure Burton takes in how Christa "didn't see it coming." Again, it's just not necessary to be an obnoxious braggart, Burton. And you know, if he still needs a nickname, I think he could do worse than "Obnoxious Braggart." I'm not sure if he could get his mother to go along with it, but I certainly would. Furthermore, it was hardly out of nowhere, considering that Christa knew very well that her being voted out was at least a possibility. Sandra calmly tells the tribe that she won't complain about the outcome, because at least she can stay three more days. Jon then interviews that Sandra is convinced she'll be next to go, but in fact, he and Burton intend to take out Darrah, because she's proved to be a significantly stronger competitor than Sandra in immunity challenges. Darrah could actually probably snap Jon himself in half like a twig, but...there you go.