The Gadzookskis get to Olympic Park, and the Linzes – on their way out – are thrilled to see them instead of the Weavers. Tommy yells triumphantly to the pinks that the Weavers are Yielded, and that they're still not on the scene. The pinks are glad to hear it, especially since it means they're not last. With this, the Linzes are on their way.

In other news, Christine takes the Roadblock for her team as one of the Tonyas prepares to jump. One of the guys helping the Tonya calls to her, "If you live, let's go out!" Heh. She doesn't try anything tricky with the jump, just gets herself in the water and gets the clue. Her team leaves. Christine basically does the same, to the cheers of her sisters. Time to drive to the pit stop. The Gadzookskis hurry to get out of the way before the Weavers show up. "Let's hope it's elimination," Sharon remarks. You and me both, sister.

The Weavers are bitching in the car, but their Mama tells them not to "lose it." In fact, she thinks they should just accept the fact that they're going to come in last today, and they'll be eliminated. Rachel gives an unhappy snort and slaps herself on the leg. Ohhhh, she is so frust-rated. Yeah, strategy-wise it wasn't the right move, but I'd have Yielded them, too.

Commercials. You know, I wouldn't shop at Walmart.com if they were the last online retailer on earth and they shipped everything using chocolate chips as packing material.

As the Weavers continue lamenting their lot in life, Rachel says, "We're already the last nice family. And we're gone." Let me ask you...can you imagine yourself, even at 16, having declared your family -- out of any group of families -- "the last nice family"? Among other things, a 16-year-old should find that incredibly dorky. She's not eleven. This girl would be in about the tenth grade if she were being socialized normally, and that's way too old to say about yourself and your sister and brother and mom, "We're the last nice family." It's like she stopped maturing about seven years ago and has gotten nowhere. I mean, you could imagine it out of Carissa if she were a different sort of kid and wouldn't get smacked, right? That's the approximate maturity level. She was nine. Normal 16-year-olds just don't talk like this. Anyway. "The people who win," Rachel snots, "will probably spend it on a new nose and bigger boobs." You know, you have to shop so carefully on that QVC. Mix up a couple of digits, and instead of your "What Would Jesus Do?" bracelet, you get the "What Would Joan Rivers Do?" bracelet, and then it's just hijinks all over the place.