For lack of anything better to do, Chris suggests that we "take a look at earlier today, as Jesse and the women prepare for one of the biggest nights of their lives!" And, lady montage. They prepare for their huge night of institutionalized meeting (I know...HUGE!) primarily by hugging loved ones goodbye and learning that said loved ones have not offered to drive them to the airport.

We're under the cover of darkness now, which is where all the covert ops occur, at a wooded location nowhere near Jesse's apartment titled "The Spy's House." Low, bass-heavy spy music ensues. The Spy speaks, and her voice is all obscured with some kind of altering technology, sounding like she's about to threaten my children's welfare over the phone in an '80s TV movie. I hate it. And the amount of Facial Fuzzy-ator they're forced to use every time she's on screen obscures more total surface area of my TV than a million combined Fox News replays of the Super Bowl halftime show. Combined, people. She's with husband Nick, working out their own reality-show pitch, The Adventures Of Nick And The Blobface, coming this fall to Fox. The twist at the end is that everyone gets a million dollars. Blobface reminds us, "When Jesse decided that he was going to be the next Bachelor, he asked me if I would help him find his bride." Heh. I love the self-determination that Jesse "decided" to be the next Bachelor. Then again, that level of wish-fulfillment clearly worked for Nick when he decided he wanted to be in The Italian Job. Blobface tells us that it's her role to play the role of one of the girls and then fill Jesse in during their one-on-one time. Almost exactly like a -- what's that word again, where your job is spying? -- oh yes, a "spy." Nick sits with Blobface on the couch, asking her if she's ready to go. "I'm nervous," she says with such cheap alteration of her voice it sounds like the recording technology on this Casio keyboard I used to have where you could record your voice and then play it on every note (all, like, twelve of them) at all different pitches. From now on, whenever Blobface dares an utterance, I shall imagine a repeated bossa nova beat jamming behind her. And...drum fill!