In one of the bedrooms, Troy takes off his shirt as Kwame complains that "it's been a long, hard day, my friend." They manage to get the camera about two inches from the back of Troy's very nice naked shoulder. Sop to the recapper! Wooo! Oh, come on, please. Like I would ever be so easily led. I've only fallen genuinely in love with a naked shoulder, oh...once or twice in my entire recapping career. Anyway, Jason and an equally shirtless (but not quite as impressive) Nick lie in bed and say how glad they are that the firing is over with. Sam interviews that if the men don't win the next task, they're "as good as dead." Again, the show returns to its motif of comparing the experience of being sent away from the cameras to -- yes -- your mortality. The non-famous are food for worms, you know. Sam claims that Trump -- sorry, that's "Mr. Trump" -- doesn't have any respect for the men's team right now, and if they lose again, he will have zero respect for them, and there will be no recovering. What I love is that Sam's shortness contributes to these weird camera angles where, when he tries to talk, his face is sort of halfway dropping off the bottom of the screen. It's like the camera guy couldn't be bothered to bend at the knees.
Over in the world of Protégé, Assorama works at the computer, looking at an awkward-looking Protégé logo that I'm hoping is still under construction. It features a stylized figure that looks like an uncoordinated woman with an undefined waistline trying to do jumping jacks in a skirt. I think I saw that woman on an episode of Inspiring Silhouette Makeovers. Assorama interviews that the reality is that each week, someone will be eliminated at the board meeting. Good one. She, like Kristi, is picking up all the hints. She is also using this interview, by the way, to comply with the legal requirement that the women show their belly buttons at least five times per week. Belly button, belly button!
The women meet around the kitchen table and talk about how they'll pick the project manager for the next task. It's a real fiesta of diplomacy, as you can imagine. Assorama says that the most fair way to pick project managers would be at random. Yeah. The way I figure it, the first person to come out in favor of picking out of a hat is probably the first person who knows she's going to be screwed by any attempt to reach consensus. Ereka predictably hates the idea of random selection -- after all, she didn't come up with it -- and thinks they should just vote. Ereka's got the aggressive head-waggle going as she says, "I think we know who the people are in our group at this point that motivate, that encourage..." Assorama starts to talk, and Ereka asks if she can finish her thought first. "Woooow," Assorama says patronizingly, as if she has just watched a three-year-old draw a potato with a crayon, "did you see how you get towards me?" Ereka interviews that Assorama has a problem with "power" and with the rest of the team "not accepting her ideas." "It's either her way, or it's no way," Ereka says. Ereka, on the other hand, is undoubtedly all kinds of flexible. If contestants were kitchen implements, she would be the bendy straw. Assorama, meanwhile, explains in an interview that she made suggestions for helping the team, and the rest of the team's reaction was "let's shut up Omarosa." Okay, look, first of all, never refer to yourself in the third person. Never ever. Second of all, the fact that people don't accept your ideas does not mean they're trying to shut you up. Not that they wouldn't have cause. She really needs to learn the difference between having someone disagree with her and having her voice mercilessly stolen out of her throat like she's the heroine of The Little Mermaid. Sometimes people respect you, think you have a right to speak your mind, and still think you're entirely wrong. I'm not saying Ereka is capable of this kind of multilayered thinking, but it's possible in theory.