But before this week's axe falls, Team Water gets chastised for a dish that "didn't work out very well," while Team Earth gets dinged for not bringing much earth to their Carpaccio. After stating that the judges agree with the guests' assessment that the Carpaccio was the weakest dish of the night, Zoi is sent to gather her knives. She's "disappointed, obviously," and explains that she's not really a competitor, which begs the question of what on earth (haha) she was doing there in the first place. Richard's crying, presumably because he's so relieved about staying, and Jen puts on her incredulous face, as Zoi tries to comfort her with a kiss. Zoi's pleased that she got to share the experience with her partner, and "to show people that you can be a couple and be professional and still compete" -- all the implied lesbian drama fizzling . . . uh, turning . . . out to be more about the dignity of gay unions, or something similarly banal (at least where reality TV is concerned -- while it would be nice to see more gay couples on television, this whole plot thread was pretty much a dud).
As Zoi leaves to a round of applause (headed back to her San Francisco support network), tensions suddenly erupt -- Spike lashes out at Antonia for spearheading the Carpaccio fiasco, flatly refusing to remember her offer to make soup if that's what everyone wanted. "Stand behind your dish," Antonia keeps repeating, as Spike tries to revise history and turn himself into a martyr. Jen jumps in, dissing Spike for putting his teammate "in the ground," and they get into it, with Spike being a classy gent and telling Jen (now dealing with the sudden absence of her girlfriend) to "cry over it all night long." Then Dale has to say something, and Lisa tells him he's just making things worse, which drives Dale to unleash all the frustration about Lisa's negative attitude that he's been bottling up -- screaming at her because "you get to bitch and whine about everything" plus she feels like she can call Dale out the second he says something, all the while cupping his crotch in a strangely infantile and discomforting manner. After clapping her hands a few times, Jen kicks over one of the folding chairs in anger, and it hits the wall, capping one whole entire minute of shouting with a loud, metallic period. Anticlimax much?