Silence. Silence. Silence. And then, magic. Amber takes a few thoughtful bites of cuisine I now know she does not deserve (you can hear Bobby Flay in the background -- having personally prepared this meal for them, I'm sure -- inserting a steak knife between his eyes at what comes next) before putting down her fork and asking Andrew, "So, what's your favorite restaurant?" Which is a weird question (they're from different cities, and America is a bit of a restaurant-heavy place), but alas not what she asks if you (or, well, me) will just let her finish the question: "What's your favorite restaurant…chain?" Oh, that's too good. Ask a multi-billionaire what his favorite chain restaurant is. I'm guessing the only reason he's even heard of chain restaurants is because I've read Fast Food Nation and I know how intrinsically linked chain food and Republican party financial donations are. But other than that, I don't see how "free salad and breadsticks" is a marketing tool that holds much appeal for someone who can order the exact thing for free…while on his private jet to the island his family owns. Not that I'm talking about me again. I got all that energy out last week. And for this, I thank you for sticking around. Seriously. Amber digs in: "I like the Olive Garden." Which, for a certain echelon of people, is more of a personality descriptor than "I'm from a decidedly suburban area" or "I'm a Nazi" or "I was born without a head and my head is a prosthetic head." I'm not saying that everyone who has ever gone to the Olive Garden is inherently trashy (stop looking at me like that. I'm not saying that. I'm not) and I'm also not comparing their patrons with the German political party responsible for the systematic annihilation of millions of innocent lives. I'm not even saying that there's anything wrong with being born without a head. But…the OLIVE GARDEN? That's awesome. Andrew immediately professes not to like the Olive Garden at all (and the thirty seconds of dead air in the following nine commercial breaks explain what happened here, I think), causing Amber to follow up, "You don't like Italian?" You know who just killed themselves? Italy. I'll bet Amber also really digs that exclusive Irish bistro known as "McDonald's," and the royal house of burgers and fries presided over by the benevolent monarch, The Burger King. Failing to find commonality in something so, well, common, conversation again grinds to a halt, and the sad music kicks up once more. Amber doesn't even hazard her next conversation bullet point -- "You know what the two most appealing words in fine cuisine are to me? 'Pizza pizza.'" -- deeming it a failure before the words are even spoken out loud.
Back at Spite Club, a few members of the Coffee Klatch hang around the kitchen, blah-blahing the day away. Jen segues that Kirsten isn't "open and friendly, the way that the other girls are," and the plot thickens as we pan outside to find Not Open And Unfriendly hanging with L&L Lunkhead, trying to curry favor with the judges, as it were. Outside, Shannon asks Kirsten how she feels about Andrew, and she cleverly uses this moment in the most opportunistic way possible: "Just like you guys, I feel totally comfortable talking to you." In a confessional, she tells us that she'd rather talk to them anyway, noting that if she ends up with Andrew, L&L would probably be "good friends" of hers. Or even if you don't win, seeing as Andrew does such an impressive job of keeping all of his ex-girlfriends in his social circle, showering them with new boyfriends and free trips to Malibu. Lady Lunkhead agrees with Kirsten that "if you want Andrew, you want Andrew, and you need to get over this 'let's be best friends' thing." You mean the part where you're socially acclimated? Because honestly, that's insane. Lord Lunkhead pegs Kirsten as "the person to beat," saying that her personality is "second to none." Well, then, who is None and why does she have such a crappy personality? Kay-o! Dude, better get that snare drum guy back in here for when I go all vaudevillian on your asses again.