And, enter the villain. Jesse worries about giving the First Impression rose, saying he hopes it doesn't lead to early jealousy among the women, while the producers worry equally that it won't. Jesse offers it to Trish, and she accepts as the other girls glare on in horror. She tries to downplay it with the other girls because she doesn't want to "rub it in anybody's face." One of the girls offers a tepid "yay" because everyone's about to hate Trish. I hate the First Impression rose.
Milling milling milling milling lee lee lee lee la la loo.
Jesse takes some time to speak with his spy, and we don't get to hear anything she says, because it's drowned out by her robo-confessional that she's glad she can be there to help him out with his decision. Katie is having trouble putting herself out there. The hottie soccer player ting-ting-tings her champagne glass to hilarious effect. Some blonde girl named Kristy wants to be a surgeon and knows she's going to get a rose. Ting ting ting. Shut up, Chris-Harrison-oriented sound effect.
The sports metaphors on this show have already been so egregiously underthought, unformed, and uniformly massacred that, quite frankly, I have absolutely no problem referring to the deliberation room this season as The Penalty Box. Different sport, you say? Go to hell, I cleverly rejoin. Chris and Jesse retire there, where Chris asks how it's going and Jesse gamely responds that he could see one of these women as the one he spends the rest of his life with. And, also, there is a spy in the house. Chris apologizes to Jesse for the huge surprise that was the First Impression Rose, saying, I kid you not, "I did throw you a curveball right out of the gate." Hey! You got your baseball in my horseracing! And you got your horseracing in my baseball! They recap -- a skill really best left to the professionals -- that Jesse gave the rose to Trish. Which we knew. Chris actually repeats the fact that there is a spy in the house. "So, twenty-five fantastic women downstairs." Minus the spy. "Fifteen you're gonna invite to stay." Fourteen, minus the spy. "Trish already has a rose." So does the spy. "So, fourteen left to give out tonight." Thirteen. "There are twenty-five unbelievable women downstairs," Jesse confessionalizes on Chris's exit. "Any one of them could be the future Mrs. Jesse Palmer." Well, that ought to come as some kind of news to the cuckolded Nick. Jesus. Disengage the autopilot, producers.
Can we just do it to it already? Thanks.