We get a welcome respite from Dr. Death as Bob and Jillian rap with the contestants about food. The contestants are forced to talk about foods that they like. These include delicious-sounding sandwiches with fries on them. All of these things are ginormous, and Bob talks up the importance of portion control. Jillian asks if anyone has tried the common sense diet, and then quizzes them as to what a calorie is. She explains that they're going to be mindful of how many calories they are eating, and how many they are expending. Everyone talks about all the healthy foods that they will be eating, and not once do they mention Ziploc bags or Jennie-O turkey! Crazy.
Before you know it, the contestants are back in the gym. The mood is very sullen. Bob says that he wants the contestants to leave the gym "a friggin' mess." Mark explains that the workouts are akin to being tortured in medieval times. I'm surprised the medicine balls don't already have spikes on them. There is moaning and puking and more puking and crying. Bob and Jillian scowl and scream and then, to shake things up, inflict torture calmly. Elizabeth is very short of breath, and Jillian insists that she'll live. Elizabeth has an amazing attitude about it, and seems determined to keep up if it kills her. Which it might.
Rick passed out in the last workout, but tells us that nothing's going to stop him this time. He doesn't pass out, which is a victory in itself I guess. Bob works closely with Brendan, who unwisely asks, "Are we almost done?" They might have been at one point, but no longer. Playing the role of Master of the Obvious, Brendan tells us, "I'm so out of shape." He tells us that he would lay in someone's puke right now. I might have to withdraw my endorsement of him for that comment alone. But then I give it back when he both says "Bahhhhbb" in a Boston accent. But then I take it away when he blows incredible amounts of snot out of his nose and lets it hang there. If this keeps up, it's my puke he's going to be laying in. Brendan tells us that five minutes on the Stairmaster is like purgatory. I concur, and will give back my endorsement as soon as I can get visions of his snot out of my head.