Oh, my god! They found Hitler's Mercedes! We fade up on an ole-timey-looking car of ambiguously Nazi-esque repute (by my calculations, anyway) to find Bob "Your Kiss Is On My List. And Yours. And Yours. And Yours And Yours Oh And Also Yours Too And You Three Over There" Guiney standing beside it, thinking of making out with the driver and then giggling shrilly about it later. "Today," Bob identifies our setting so that we may synchronize our nuclear clocks, "I'm picking up Lee-Ann in a vintage limo and we're heading down to the Queen Mary for a romantic evening on the water." Clearly, a universe of fun awaits us. A universe in which "Lee-Ann on the water" means "Lee-Ann underwater, as shark bait or one who is drowned and blue of lips might be," a universe in which "romantic evenings" means "baseball playoffs, but with a different ending than the one we ended up with," and a universe in which "Queen Mary" is the name of a transvestite burlesque entertainer who wears pink heels and performs from an oeuvre exclusive made up of songs from the Pat Benatar collection. Then and only then will I redirect the Planet Express for a direct flight into the proposed and aforementioned Universe Of Fun. Do you see now, creators and esteemed upper management, ABC Networks, what we mean when we say we want things on the show to be "different"? Do you see why maybe four white roses isn't quite the most! Shocking! Or! Radical! Thing that could have happened?
Bob, stop trying to kiss the Queen Mary. S/he isn't even a contestant.
Anyway. Recap. Right.
Bob continues in a confessionalizing voice-over that "There's lot I need to figure out about Lee-Ann...the ladies voting her least compatible does make me think that there might be something I don't know." Gosh, ever since he and Queen Mary learned all there is to know about the crying game back in that Bachelor Fan Fic paragraph up above, Bob's gone really gun shy, suddenly. Bob continues, "I'd like to figure out what that might be." He looks out the window of Hitler's Mercedes with an expressive, pensive, far-off, musing look of there's-a-lot- I-need-to-figure-out- about-Lee-Ann- the-ladies-voting-her- least-compatible-does-make- me-think-that- there-might-be- something-I-don't-know- to-figure-out- what-that-might-be.
Meanwhile, back at The House That One Man Can Put Asunder, Lee-Ann fills out the other perspective of this "He Says/Lee says" dichotomy, telling us...effectively, exactly the same thing. And that thing is this: "I was voted least compatible in this house by the girls, and that ensured me a one-on-one date with Bob." Except when she tells it to us, it's during her grooming ritual, where we find her alone in the bathroom with a hair dryer in one hand and the biggest, roundest, rarest brush in Big Round Brush State Park in the other. Seriously, every brush you ever thought you lost actually ran away from you in search of that brush when called upon to heed the cry from the Mother Ship. The way some girls used their brushes as ad hoc microphones to dance around their bathroom and sing "Build Me Up Buttercup" or "Summer Lovin'" or the songs of Pat Benatar, Lee-Ann tethered that thing to a beam high above family room and let it dangle at eye length, using it as an ad hoc microphone to announce heavyweight boxers's weights into. As soon as she was old enough to lift it.