Xxxxxxx is shaving, which is funny, because I always think he looks like he needs to shave. He says he doesn't care about his immunity because he plans on doing well on all of the challenges. He sounds stoned. And he is a dead ringer for Justin Kirk.

Xxxxxx wakes up with pre-shellacked hair. My sympathies to his pillow. He's really chipper and interviews that he's totally excited to be there and really likes all of the other XXXXXX, which is a departure from his earlier comments. Maybe he's a morning person.

Sure, this was a nice little comedic exchange, but what really happened here was a meta-dialogue between the gay male community and all the wild and well-dressed teen-aged girls who inhabit our lives either as our nieces, our next-door neighbors whose parents want us to baby-sit them because we’re "safe," or characters in the movies we love like Clueless or Heathers. In turn, these chic little girls see gay men as their mentors, either as hair stylists, last-minute well-dressed dates to the prom, sources for Special K and ecstasy, or simply as friends to turn to for superior advice on oral sex.

I...I...I HATE I HATE I HATE I HATE HER SO SO SO MUCH SHE IS A HORRIBLE A WRETCHED A HORRIBLE A MISERABLE A HORRIBLE AN EVIL EXCUSE FOR AN ACTRESS AND SHE HAS NO NO NO NO NO SCREEN PRESENCE AT ALL AND SHE IS CLEARLY DUMBER THAN A BOX A CRATE A MOVING VAN A GIGANTIC METAL SHIPPING CONTAINER OF HAIR AND ROCKS AND HAMMERS AND SHE IS A COMPLETE WASTE OF PRECIOUS PRECIOUS OXYGEN AND VARIOUS OTHER VITAL NATURAL RESOURCES.

I just realized that xxxxxx and I are the same age. He seems so much older than I am, and I mean that in a good way. He's more sophisticated. Then again, I like burp and fart jokes, so pretty much everyone is more sophisticated than I am.

Nope & nope. I think you guys might be a wee disapointed, but it's always good when the recappers are self-depricating.

That was so Miguel's idea, overruling the director's suggestion that instead of imitating [snip], [snip] should speak the words backwards and in German, all the while wearing a clown suit and crabwalking around the room through a giant pool of grape Jell-O. Because she's real arty like that.

But first, time to stop at the nicely-arranged entrails. Then to visit Nicky's other crime scene markers, and then to visit his vest, which is lying on the ground next to a final crime scene marker. Catherine gets all verklempt before pulling out a set of gloves and working the scene. She finds some white fibers on the vest; they smell like alcohol. Gil continues to wander around. Great -- now the black-clad guy can get him.