Chris Harrison comes in to inform the women about what's going on this week: three dates, with roses at the end. But what's different is that this time they have to earn the dates. First competition is a songwriting competition, which apparently sucked big enough when the guys did it for Deanna, so now this show is forcing it on the women. Oh, and they've got 30 minutes to prepare.

Shannon figures she's got an edge, because she watched every single episode of The Bachelorette and knows that Jason wrote a rap song for DeAnna. In other news, Shannon figures she's got an edge if she needs to perform emergency surgery because she's seen every episode of ER. Molly, meanwhile, is writing down some lyrics, the only word I can see being "nuggets." While Stephanie labors under the misapprehension that she's got a very operatic voice, Lauren brags about the ear she has and says her song might sound as professional as what you hear on the radio. Hmm. Well, I do kinda agree that most stuff on the radio took at best an hour to write.

Nikki, however, is despondent, to the point of tears. She's terrified of doing this. "She is a pretty uptight person," Naomi tells us. Nikki admits it's her whole control-freak thing. "I'd rather have a tarantula crawl up my arm than this." That's this afternoon's competition!

Chris comes back in to ask if the women are ready for the competition. Nikki has pulled her shit together enough to at least not be blubbering. Chris asks if they want to meet the judge, like it's going to be Simon Cowell or something. In an interview in which Jason badly needs a shave, he says this was a lot of fun last year, and he wanted to "turn it around on the girls," by which I think he means, "I want viewers to suffer like they did last season."

Molly goes first and uses about three notes to sing a song about how she and Jason go together like nuggets and french fries, except when her first verse is about how she's scared of fast food, that doesn't quite work. Shannon gets up to rap, which is kind of like when your student council president would turn a baseball cap around backwards and "do a rap" to welcome incoming freshmen. I would literally rather listen to Kevin Federline. Her rap name is "Sha Nay Nay." My rap name is much better: Jimmy Joyce (it was an Irish rap group, second only to House of Pain, as far as we ever knew).

Jillian gets up on the table to sing, Stephanie screeches out her "opera" voice, and it's tough to do opera when you're wearing a midriff shirt and hot pink short-shorts. Lauren says in an interview that she decided that all the other women's songs sucked, so when she goes up there declares that her song is different from all of them, and that she wrote a "full-on real song."

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