Just a note: Tina is from Hayward, Wisconsin. She is not from Minnesota. I got this wrong in the recaplet, and my punishment for mixing up the two states involved penance that I have completed thusly: I stood on a chair in my apartment, dangled an open bottle of Leinenkugel's between my toes, balanced a wheel of cheese on my head, put on my Packers jersey, wrote "FAVRE" on my forehead with a black Sharpie, went without showering for two days, then sang a song called "Wisconsin Rollin' On," to which I will not repeat the lyric, except to say that it includes the phrases "tasty Eau Claire sunsets" and "your capital city notwithstanding." I accompanied myself on pennywhistle.
Anyway, Ruth Marie comments in an interview about Tina's "interesting background" as a "log-roller." She also calls Tina "resourceful," which I think is something like "has a good personality" in the damning-with-faint-praise category, only it's aimed at people who are, like, saving your ass right at this moment. Ruth Marie says that she's happy to have someone else lead and be a "worker bee" herself. More, it looks like, with the "bee" than with the "working." Cirie, meanwhile, gathers up leaves off the ground for use in the shelter, but she unhappily mutters, "I hate leaves." She also makes a little shrieking noise, so Tina pulls her aside and asks what she was saying scared her. "I said, 'leaves,'" Cirie says. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, she is afraid of leaves. Not water, not sharks, not alligators, not being audited. Leaves. Tina, in an interview, looks around incredulously but not unkindly, and cracks, "Did anyone tell her what show she was going on?" If I had been Tina, I totally would have stayed up late the first night, found a way to fashion a costume made of leaves so that I would look like the Walking Leaf Monster, and come stomping up to Cirie while she was sleeping. That would mean that even if I got voted off early, I could feel that my trip had been entirely worthwhile.
Over at camp Younger Men -- the tribe apparently called "Viveros," which I find absolutely hilarious, given how much it sounds like a drug for erectile dysfunction -- President Beefcake is swatting at something with something else, as men have been doing since time immemorial, since long before "I'd hit that" meant anything other than that you didn't respect the pitcher. In fact, there seems to be a whole little baseball game going here, and Aras (the yoga instructor) tells us that they haven't really done any work to speak of. He has a plan, though, and now, everything's going to be great. He gathers the guys and has them stack their hands. Not touching, mind you -- it's not a gay plan or anything -- but just near each other, like a team cheer for germophobes. He then wants the other guys to tell him when they start to feel energy. I have not a clue what he thinks is going to happen here, although it seems to have something to do with gathering focus so that they can make fire. I don't think he thinks the magic hand energy is actually going to start a fire. The sad thing is that I can guarantee you that even if Nick or Austin felt any energy (President Beefcake isn't playing), neither of them would admit it, even if said energy felt like an electrode attached to the pleasure centers in their brains and activated. Nick refers to Aras's notions in an interview as "hare-brained" in some cases. Yes, "hare-brained." In other news, Dewey defeats Truman!