Thursday, March 1, 2012

Go Kill Yourself


Last night on Swamp People we met The Rain. Nature's terrible secretion. In some pockets of the universe, The Rain is a cleansing tonic nourishing the soil upon which we stand. This is not the case in Samoa, my friends. The Samoan rains are hateful little beads full of anger. Tiny pelting daggers of malice whose cries are carried on the wind and into our hearts. Pyew, pyew! You're all pruney now! Pyew, pyew! You're a racist! Pyew, pyew! Extra douchiness for you! Hurtling through space and time it is almost impossible to run from The Rain. One way or another, whether through a rickety matchstick shelter or from the plops off of a mocking palm tree, The Rain will get you and it will poison you. We're talking Hunger Games poison. Twitching on the ground, sizzling into vapors poison. You can fight The Rain, but you'll never beat The Rain. And so the Swamp People live with it and mutate. Their skins peels away revealing soft underbellies of truth. It is this truth I bring to you today. Let's recap, shall we?


We continue our Polynesian tale in blackness. Not the blackness that makes Fancy Pants' (Colton) skin crawl. The blackness of night. In silence the Salami (Salani) tribe sits huddled around the campfire as the night crackles and pops with energy. Perhaps preoccupied with their losing streak, the women stare blankly lost in their own thoughts while the wind gusts around them toppling mountains into the ocean. Uprooted trees whiz by their heads yet Kim and Chelsea sit hypnotized by the flames. Gripping his bonnet for dear life against the gale force winds, Fancy Pants tiptoes into the women's camp and makes a kindly offer, "Y'all can come over to our camp if you want. Well, except Sabrina. She'll have to stay here and fend for herself." Kim mutters in reply, "Thanks, but no thanks. We'll tough it out." And tough it out she does. For what could a little rain do to a hardcore outdoorsy gal like her?


The night departs yet The Rain stays and all we hear is a clacking. Jaws and bones... clack, clack, clack. It's Kim. Soaked downtrodden Kim. Huddled beneath her own hair, she sits in a puddle of mud and wonders where the sun has gone. The fire is nothing more than a pile of soggy leaves while the shelter of matchsticks bends and moans with the new rooftop swimming pool sloshing above. Shivering and wild-eyed, Ms. Kim has had enough. Enough! On hands and knees she crawls to the men's camp and collapses in front of their fire. I mean, we didn't need the vote or birth control anyways. It's ok Kim. Crawl away. The men stare at the pile of bones at their feet and wonder how the hell it got there while Matt, who has just returned from a trip snatching infant babies from their cribs, pokes it with a stick and wants it as far away from his bed as possible. His bedspread of newborn baby skins is the only dry thing in the shelter and that festering pile of soggy hair and bones is twitching a little too close for his comfort.

Before Matt can fluff his puppy fur pillows and realign his unicorn pelt, we've got ourselves a Reward Challenge to get to. Yup. You heard correctly - a Reward Challenge! Reward Challenges are mysterious rituals from hundreds of years ago that have been all but erased from Survivor history. They used to be a regular thing, but Rhode Island annexed the South Pacific a while back and things got weird there for a sec. Anyhow, it's back now so let's get to it.


For today's Reward Challenge, tribe members will square off in a memory test. A series of items lined up in a specific order will be revealed behind a heavy curtain. Once you've memorized the order of the items, pull the lever to drop the curtain and then race to recreate the same set-up back at your little diorama stations. First person to get it right scores a point for their tribe. The first tribe to get 5 points wins a reward of fishing gear and a canoe. As the men have 300 extra people, they'll sit out Tarzan (Greg) and Leif. Survivors ready, go.

First up is Sabrina and Matt. The curtain rises to reveal a hodgepodge of shells, skulls, and empty wine bottles (which looks surprisingly like the glass shelf in my bathroom - Pirate Chic, bitches) and the race is on. Sabrina snatches the lever and both she and Matt scurry back to recreate all they have seen. Matt lines up an entire row of skulls (wishful thinking?) while Sabrina actually paid attention and gets the point. Women - 1, Men - 0


Pair after pair continue with the women clearly better decorators than the men. Fancy Pants was a little too heavy handed with the seashells while Jay just sort of slumped over and fell asleep half way through the task. It was the battle between Dumb and Dumber though, I mean Troyzan (Troy) and Kat, that was the real nail biter. Troyzan flicked the lever without even bothering to look at the items while Kat kept trying on skulls like they were hats. Round after round passed blissfully through the drizzle and neither side could manage to rustle up a point. Finally, during the 127th round... with the shells all scuffed, the bottles in shards, and the skulls nicely broken in... Kat, with her arms full of bric-a-brac, trips over her own feet and unfurls the items in precisely the correct order. Women - 4, Men - 0


Last up is ChaCha (Christina) and an excited old gypsy woman with a cowl wrapped tightly around her head. Oh wait, never mind. It's just Bill. Comedic genius Bill. And this brings me to my newest nickname. I give you "Cosby". Cosby, Bill Cosby. So ChaCha and Cosby are next. ChaCha furrows her brow and focuses intently while Cosby hops in circles on his toes excitedly. It's all or nothing, baby. The curtain lifts and Cosby almost immediately races back to his station without pulling the lever which gives ChaCha a few more seconds to memorize. Place, replace, displace... we wait on Dimples to give the final word and... WOMEN WIN REWARD!!!


Back at camp The Rain still falls but a seaworthy craft awaits the womenfolk and that's all that really matters. The boat represents everything the women have needed but never had- success, confidence, momentum, a solid structure. Taking inspiration from the S.S. Vagina, the women regroup and refocus. ChaCha gets to work rebuilding the shelter while Monica sets her mind to starting a fire. Flick, flick... goes the flint. Alright, that's enough. Let's just give up and go ask the men for an ember. That's not an unreasonable request, is it? Yes it is! Yes. It. Is. It's completely unreasonable and weak and moronic and, oh look, Jay is actually giving them an ember. *smacks self in head* Without a real solid promise of a ride in the S.S. Vagina, he hands over an ember - apparently to the delight of Democrats and the repugnance of Republicans everywhere. In response, Fancy Pants flicked his wrists through the air in anger while Matt sat grumbling in the corner sharpening a starfish. The men are angry and they should be angry. They should be angry at dumbass Jay for giving up that ember! Look men, the women are like stray cats. If you keep giving them stuff, they'll keep coming back for more!


And that's exactly what happens, the women are back for more. Meow. This time it's Jugs (Alicia) and Chelsea and they're in search of warmth and yarn balls. Jonas remarks that if this were actually a life and death situation then, sure, he'd be happy to help them, but this is Survivor! This is a game. A game in which you survive. So far it's the women's game of taking. Take, take, take. Ladies, I want to root for you. I really do. It's not like I can root for anyone on the men's side. Look at them all - buffoons! Buffoons and Klansmen. But you really need to stop being such twits. Twits with tits.

So Jugs and Chelsea are standing there, hanging out, warming their hands by the fire when one of them remarks, "Our brand new boat is so cool!" *jams shish kabob poker up nose* Shut your face! Why would you say something like that?!? Apparently Monica and whatever mindless scamp was with her earlier completely forgot to tell the rest of the gals that the boys want to use the S.S. Vagina in exchange for that ember. Granted, no solid deal was ever made, but still... don't go flaunting your shiny new Vagina around especially when you're being total mooches. Naturally, the men reply, "Well, we want a ride in that boat." Jugs responds, "I don't know. We'll see." And this is where the men get all uppity. The bickering begins and the voices start to raise yet Chelsea is still sitting there waving her tootsies in front of the fire without a care in the world.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Tarzan steps forward and tells the women that they need to leave and go discuss the Vagina deal with the other Salamis. Good on you, Tarzan! Instead of sitting and grumbling like Mike, Matt, Fancy Pants, Cosby, and Jay, you actually stood up and said something. Sure, it was said in a shirt that looks like Bozo puke, but you said it and that gets you points.


So in a huff and a puff, Chelsea and Jugs stomp back to their camp. Chelsea flops under the shelter and in a stream of tears burbles out something along the lines of, "Give them everything. I don't care. I'm so freaking cold. My poor fingers! Prunes! Waaa waaa waaa." Want some cheese with that whine? I understand that you're miserable, but you're supposed to miserable! In fact, the original title of Survivor was Les Miserables until that Andrew Lloyd Webber stole it and made 18 billion dollars off of it. Instead of taking him to court, Mark Burnett decided to steal the title of a Destiny's Child song and the rest his history. Pure factual chronological history. Werd.

Eventually, the sun peeks out it's weary head and the women are able to take the S.S. Vagina out for a little spin. Chelsea is willingly dunking her whole body in water and I can't help but wonder about the prunes. All water is wet you know. Oh never mind all that. The ladies catch some minnows and all's good. Everyone seems happy. The Vagina has lived up to her promise. She's proved to be a worthy vessel.

And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge one person will be your caller while the other suckers are tied up into pairs and blindfolded. The caller will then guide them into lamp posts and scaffoldings where hilarity will ensue. Buckets of goo will fall on their heads as they retrieve puzzle pieces. Once all of the pieces are gathered, the caller when then solve the puzzle. First team to finish wins Immunity. As the men seem to be multiplying overnight, they'll sit out Fancy Pants and Jay. Cosby will call for Menudo (Manono) and Sabrina will call for Salami. Survivors ready, go!

The challenge begins and Cosby proves to have one hell of a voice. His thunderous boom is drowning out anything Sabrina could possibly hope to offer. It went a little something like this:
"RUN! GO FORWARD! DUCK! TURN LEFT! STOP!"
"ok now go that way and then to that thing over there that's about to take out your vagina"
Smash!
*silence*
Ouch. Poor Monica just body slammed her vag into a pole. I think I saw her NuvaRing fall out.


Matt and Leif retrieve the first bag of puzzle pieces for the men while the women are left to flounder wondering where their caller is. Sabrina has gone silent and Monica is half way to Fiji by now leaving a trail of unfertilized eggs behind her.

The men continue to gather even more puzzle pieces while Sabrina is plum tuckered out and draped over the banister of her calling post. "no no no not that way. go the other way to the thing where the things are. whew! i need a drink. can i get some water up in here?" *snore* Seriously?



With the girls literally begging for help from Sabrina, the men whoosh forward to a five bag lead. Cosby gets started on his tree puzzle where his silence and concentration actually serve the women well. Without Cosby yelling like a maniac, the ladies can finally hear Sabrina and get their puzzle pieces. Monica even makes it back from Fiji.


So with the men in a huge lead, Sabrina finally starts on her puzzle. Cosby may have time and a learning curve on his side, but he doesn't have Kim behind him shouting instructions. Nor does he have Monica directing where to place the pieces. All he has is Troyzan grunting. Good luck with that. And so, what seemed lost, what seemed impossible, what was once so hopeless has transformed itself and... WOMEN WIN IMMUNITY!!!

Back at Menudo the men gather around Cosby and try to console him as best they can. "Good job dude.", "You did a great job man.", "Go kill yourself." Wait, what? Did a little girl just tell Cosby to go kill himself? Yes. Yes she did. It turns out that Fancy Pants doesn't care for Cosby and thinks him to be "ghetto trash" so now he must die. *bites fist* Ghetto trash. Ghet-to trash. *looks around the room* Did that seriously just happen? Uh. Um. Ok. Wow.

In between fashioning a cross and trying to hide his man boobs with a horizontally striped cardigan (hey, you asked for it buddy), Fancy Pants is trying to convince the rest of his tribe that Cosby is the type of guy to slit your throat when you're not looking. Because, you know, black men are like that... or something. Tarzan objects by stating that Matt is the much bigger threat and I'm inclined to agree. Cosby is quirky. He's hippy dippy, he's flighty, he's excitable. One thing he's not is malicious whereas Matt sits in a corner and makes lists of the tokens he'll steal from his victims. Serial killers always keep tokens you know. Little things like locks of hair or bracelets or giant man boobs.

With the misfit men debating over Matt and Cosby, Jay sidles up out of nowhere and wants to know what everyone is chatting about. Tarzan tells him point blank that the four of them (plus the racist) are an alliance that they're willing to expand to six if Jay is looking to join in. Jay pauses to consider the offer as Matt approaches the group and demands to know what's going on. "We're talking strategy", says Tarzan who then hands him the Misfit Guidebook to Days 8-39. Dude, shut up! Stop being so forthright. It was cute back when you dealt with the women hogging your fire, but come on! Matt is the enemy. Don't hand him your playbook.


Now knowing that he's in the minority alliance, Matt pulls Troyzan aside for a little tete a tete about roosters and their cocks. Something about chickens in the hen house and the cocks crowing on the fence post. The flapping of wings and muscles banding together. Matt is the rooster and the rest are chickens. Maybe Troyzan and Jay are roosters too. The chickens can't break up the roosters, but Matt wants to be the only rooster surrounded by chickens because who the hell are chickens anyways? They're just chickens whereas a rooster is a rooster. Cock a doodle doo. Huh?

And now we arrive at Tribal Council where we begin with a discussion about alliances. Apparently, Mike thinks that there are too many alliances to keep track of. *scratches head* Really? I'm watching from home and I can keep track of them just fine. It goes something like this: One. Two. There, I'm done. There are TWO alliances.

Dimples turns to Fancy Pants and asks him to affirm that 5 is a bigger number than 4. Fancy Pants replies, "Well I'm not going home because I have the Idol." That's not what Dimples asked you! Fancy Pants is one of those people that hears what he wants and then acts according to whatever fantasy he's playing out in his head. It's creepy and it probably requires some medication to get a real handle on. Like, "Fancy Pants, how are you doing today?" "Twelve! I've got twelve designer handbags." Umm ok.

But let's get back to this Idol thing. So Fancy Pants has told everyone he's holding and, let's face it, it was just to brag because he had no reason spilling the beans just now. Furthermore, he tells us that he's going to use it tonight. Hearing all of this sends Matt into nothing short of a face eating frenzy. Did you see him? It was spectacular. Nom nom nom went his lips. Chomp chomp chomp went his chin. He's only eyeballs and leaky brain matter now. Awesome.

Mike, on the other hand, is feeling a little betrayed that Fancy Pants has the Idol. He tells Dimples that Fancy Pants is always spending time with the women to which Dimples replies, "WTF?!?" Have you noticed how mean Dimples is this season? He usually delivers a few zingers now and again, but he's been downright angry since the premiere. Annoyed almost. Preoccupied. Like he'd rather be somewhere else. Is it just me?

So anyhow Dimples is yelling at Fancy Pants for hanging out with some bitches who aren't even on his tribe and Fancy Pants is all like, "But I'm gay. Giggle giggle." Cosby jumps in and says that Fancy Pants judged the men before they judged him and Fancy Pants was all, "Do you have a nail file because my acrylics are coming loose?" Then Tarzan raised his hand and asked permission to stick his tongue up Fancy Pants' ass. Then Fancy Pants bent over and was all, "My favorite is the red one with the snakeskin trim." And then Matt asked, "Who's 'we' Tarzan?" to which Tarzan replied, "We're trying to recruit your friend Jay. It's page 11 of the playbook." Then Cosby jumped up on the bench and cried, "This is emotion right here man! This is like for real, yo! I'm so excited to be here right now. We're in it bro! This is intense!"

*stares blankly*


Before I read the votes, would anyone like to play the Immunity Idol? Fancy Pants whispers to Tarzan, "They're leather. Real Texan leather." Soooo, no. No one wants to play the Idol. By a vote of 85 to 6 divided by 18, Matt is the third person voted out of Survivor One World.

So, what did you guys think of last night's episode? Should the women loan the men their Vagina? Are you happy Matt went home? Will Fancy Pants and Tarzan end up in a fisticuffian power struggle? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! My apologies if this seemed rushed today. I had to crank this one out kinda fast. Blurgh.