Now Phil points out that at the pit stop, "other relationships continued to grow," and we see Boston arriving and Alex being hugged by Tara. Next up, a grainy, poorly-lit, internet-bootleg-ish shot of Alex and Tara huddled...somewhere. A goofily smiling Alex turns to the camera and says, "We're just 'strategizing.'" He finger-quotes "strategizing," and he seriously needs some romantic advice, because finger-quoting is so thoroughly the opposite of an aphrodisiac, I cannot even tell you. It is truly the unsexiest thing since drooling and polka-dot bow ties. Over more film of Alex and Tara "strategizing," Wil says that his un-wife is free to see who she wants, and he reminds us that he could do the same (that sound you hear is Mary, Peach, Cyndi, Paige, AND Danny and Oswald simultaneously shuddering). He points out that nevertheless, they shouldn't "stick it in each other's faces," and I'm not even going to think about what that means, because with all the canoodling, I'm already barely holding on to dinner. A clearly drunk Alex and Tara are still mugging for the camera, and he goes to kiss her (he is totally going to kiss her, too, camera-mugging or not), and she shoves him off. Heh. I have a warm, happy feeling that they deserve each other.

Wow, quite a week -- sex and booze before we even see the Exposition Hands. And now, eight teams...no idea what's in store...sealed envelopes...Exposition Hands. Eh, I'm back to thinking they've changed the hands. These hands are too girly.