Thursday, March 8, 2012
Awake. Shake dreams from your hair my pretty child, my sweet one. Seriously, shake those dreams right out of your hair because you have no need for them. Dreams, pah! A dream is a wish a homeless person makes. You know what happens to a dream deferred? It marches its ass down to the unemployment office and gets itself a job. That's what! Sing with me, sing for the year, sing for the laughter, sing for the tears. Sing with me, just for today. Maybe tomorrow the good lord will take you to get a decent haircut and a sensible pair of khakis so you don't look like a complete tool when Ms. Studebaker interviews you for that file clerk position. The effort spent dreaming can be effort spent fine tuning your resume. Dreams are the tumbleweeds of the mind. Crispy and dry, floating, aimless. They gather dust and end up in the corners of abandoned ghost towns. Not amongst the lilies and waters fair. So let them go dear readers. Let them go from tightened clasps. They cannot be saved from this pitiless wave. We are not but a dream within a dream. We are lazy mole people, with no plan B, destined to live in the garbage pail of life. Oh well. Let's recap, shall we?
We continue our island tale in the thick of night with a lone panpipe as our soundtrack. Sad and desperate, it makes its pleas to the darkness. Little tinkles on the breeze. Hollow mocking tinkles. The moon hangs high in the distance and holds its breath. A breathless shell shocked moon. For it knows what comes. It knows what the morning brings. Yet it can do nothing but hang there and watch. The solemnity of the scene is broken suddenly with the sounds of Menudo (Manono). The boys are back from Tribal Council and all Michael can do is shake his head in disgust. His best good friend, Matthew J. Quinlan, Attorney At Law, has been sent back to night court to defend the street urchins terrorizing our city streets and now the Menudos are down one strong player. Tarzan (Greg) doesn't see it as losing a strong player. He sees it as strengthening the ties that bind and anyone threatening that bond needs to go back from whence they came. Flitter back to your bus stop ads Matthew J. Quinlan. Trundle away to your law offices and class action suits.
While we're talking about people hitting the high road, Tarzan has some very strong feelings about whom should be going home next. As a matter of fact, he has strong feelings on just about everything. You see, Tarzan is a guy who likes to stand for something. When a social injustice occurs, he stands up. When loyalties are breached, he Maya Angelou rises. It's often done with both feet firmly on the ground and one hand pointed to the sky as if to say, "I speak for the big man upstairs so listen up people." And so, speaking for the big man upstairs, Tarzan decides that Cosby (Bill) must be the next person to go home. Whimsical bouncy Cosby scares the vines out of Tarzan's hands for some reason and I'm struggling to figure out why. Cosby rides his own incense stick for crying out loud! With his trampoline walk and glassy eyes, Cosby is not here to be stealthy and calculating. He's here to play with finger trails and sample some local tie dye. Whatever the case may be with Cosby, Leif has had enough for one night as he climbs inside of a wooden box and fastens the lid tightly over himself. Is he undead or up for a game of hide and seek? *shrugs shoulders*
Night gives way to dawn as morning finds the women preparing a skillet of escargot. Hard working Monica feels like the tide has finally turned in the women's favor. They've got the S.S. Vagina, rice, coconuts, and snails. What more does an island dweller need? With the garlic lemon butter wafting on the wind and the tiny crostini warming on stolen embers, the men follow the inviting scent all the way into Camp Salami (Salani). Licking their chops and hiding their drool, the Menudos are prepared to make a deal. Let Jonas use the fishing net and he'll give the women half of what he catches. Chelsea lowers her baseball cap over her eyes while chomping on her lip, "I know I sound like a cold hearted bitch and I'm really not, but we can't be feeding our enemy." Oh Chelsea, don't be silly. A cold hearted bitch doesn't reject a perfectly ridiculous offer. A cold hearted bitch tells bloggers who make up silly stories about a highly edited tv show to go kill themselves. A cold hearted bitch is a joyless funsucker who thinks nothing of lounging lazily by the enemy's fire warming her tootsies without so much as a thank you yet turns her nose up at the first chance of payback. So unless you fit any of the previous descriptions, don't sell yourself short babe. Naturally, the men are annoyed and they stomp off in a huff. Call me crazy, but what's stopping them from making their own escargot? I've consulted with a professional fisherman, Google, and it appears as if snails live close to the sandy beaches. You don't need a vagina or a Vagina to catch them yourselves Menudo.
And this brings us to the Reward Challenge. For today's challenge, tribes will take turns using a slingshot to fire coconuts at a massive wall of targets. In order for the hit to count, the majority of the target must be decimated. The first tribe to knock out five targets in a row (horizontally, vertically, or diagonally) wins one of three prizes: Comfort, Protection, or Luxury. The men sit out Cosby and... Survivors ready, go.
Monica and Fancy Pants (Colton) are up first and someone in the background (Kat, I suspect) observes, "Two girls up." Now, I know Fancy Pants walks around with a Chinese fan in his hands and ruffles on his panties, but let's not call him a girl. We can call him a dandy or a fop. Maybe even Little Lord Fauntleroy, but not a girl. No girl would ever willingly wear an ill-fitting mint colored blouse into the jungle. And puh-lease, that haircut looked better on Ricky Schroeder back in 1982. In the end, neither Monica nor Fancy Pants scores and Tarzan and Sabrina are up next.
Tarzan connects and scores first while Sabrina only hints at nicking her target. That fuzzy headed lollipop Kat scores next while Troyzan (Troy) lobs a coconut gently skyward. Have you noticed that Troyzan isn't all that zan-y? Oh sure, he's zany, but he's not zan-y. If he keeps performing the way he is, I'll have to take back the -zan and demote him back to Troy. A -zan implies certain qualities. Hairiness, obviously, but also fearlessness and agility. Someone with more than a headband. Someone with presence.
So the game continues with Menudo scoring. Then Salami scoring. Then Menudo scoring. Back and forth, back and forth. Chelsea shoots at an unsuspecting monkey in a tree and I have to wonder if she thought that monkey was gossiping about her. Poor monkey. ChaCha (Christina) flashes us her chacha and good naturedly giggles it off while Jugs (Alicia) props a coconut between her jugs and takes out a much needed target. The women have gained some serious momentum and they only have one target left. It's low and taunting, but Monica has never met a challenge she didn't like. She prepares her nut, sets her eye on the prize, lowers herself down into the sand and... Kapow! WOMEN WIN REWARD!!! The women choose the Protection Reward which is a good choice because Prune Hands would shit a brick if it rained again and the men (rightfully) turned her away like she did them with that whole cold hearted bitch net thing.
Wait a tic. Do you see what I see? I know that jolly rancher Kat is doing a chicken dance right now, but look at that! *reaches under bed to grab bible* An upside down cross. *lights a stick of sage* A sign that evil is not far away. Like blood on the moon, like a broomstick falling, like a black cat taking a shit on your front porch or whatever. This can't be good. Other than crossing myself a thousand times and double checking my bail out bag (glitter, gin, ammo), I'm sort of at a loss for what to do here.
With a gnawing sense of foreboding in my loins, I trudged onward much like the women have in this game. They've managed to turn prunes into lemonade, ding-dongs into athletes, and monkeys into pelts (right Chelsea?). The mood at the Salami Homestead is one of merriment and rightly so. You've got to enjoy it while it lasts because you never know when that upside down cross is going to light up and unfurl it's evil. Over on the men's camp, the mood isn't quite so merry. Troyzan tries to blame their loss on not having enough time to learn the game. To which Cosby says that they all had the same amount of time. Jonas scoffs and calls the win a fluke while Troyzan mumbles, "Big deal. So they won a tarp. It's even now." Cosby is cool with owning up to the fact that the women kicked their asses. He didn't play so he's surely not to blame. Whatever. It was just a Reward Challenge. Onward and upward. Right, guys?
Well, onward and upward seems to be the plan with Cosby. Fully-bearded and all smiles, quirky Cosby won't let the women's win get him down. The men just need to win more challenges from here on out. No biggie. Leif nods and agrees. And man, wouldn't it be nice to find an Idol? It sure would man. They look to the trees blowing around them. It's that time of the day when everything is calm. It's not too hot, not too cold. They can take in the beauty of the island and be thankful for this rare opportunity they've been given. Leif says, "And when Fancy Pants wanted to vote you out, I didn't really want that." Cosby's eyes shoot open and his attention flings from the trees to the little man on his right, "Fancy Pants said that?!" Leif nods slowly. It was a little comment. A bonding between brothers. A natural evolution of the day. An innocent exchange under the shade of the trees. A secret to keep close, keep within, keep from...
"Leif and Cosby were talking, man!", cries Michael as he runs into the shelter to where Fancy Pants is lying in a state of repose. Fancy Pants seethes, "That little munchkin is about to get kicked back to Oz." *bites fist* Fancy Pants adjusts the robes around himself, claps for more grapes, and tells Micheal to bring Leif to him immediately. Michael bows in submission with his head in the sand and whispers, "Yes, Domina." Within seconds, Leif is placed at the feet of Fancy Pants with Michael gripping his arms behind his back and delivering wet willy after wet willy. Fancy Pants pops a grape into his mouth and asks, "Did you tell Cosby we were voting him out?" Leif tries to wriggle out of Michael's grasp and replies, "What? Cosby? Who?" Fancy Pants breathes in slowly and once again asks with ruby red eyes, "Did you tell Cosby we were voting him out?" Leif groans from the atomic wedgie Michael is giving him and says, "Well, I mean, I told him, not really, yes." Fancy Pants flicks his chin towards Michael and with that the offensive oompah loompah is dragged away to be placed in a burlap sack full of rabid rats. Fancy Pants exhales languidly and lies back on his chaise lounge. Michael should be back shortly. Perhaps he can squeeze in a handy before the challenge.
Speaking of challenges, this next one will have to do with solving puzzles. The girls ooh and ahh at the thought of puzzle solving. Like every other Survivor challenge ever hasn't had a puzzle to solve. Anyhow, the tree mail hints that they'll have to work in pairs. Mensa member Kat turns to Jugs and declares, "You can't solve puzzles! Wanna Starburst?" Jugs smooshes the Starburst in between Kat's eyes and replies, "I just solved that puzzle!" She points to the tree mail puzzle which was pretty much two pieces placed side by side. Oh but Jugs isn't done yet. "I'm the South Side puzzle champ! My blood bleeds lego pieces. My mother was a Rubik's Cube, goddammit. Did you know my middle name is Jenga? I know you're not calling me stupid right now. Yahtzee!" And then she banged on her chest and Scrabble tiles leaked out of her boobs. Talented girl, that Jugs.
And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge, you will be paired up and tied together. Each pair will race across a teeter totter and arrive at a puzzle. Once there, solve the puzzle, retrieve a key, and race back where another pair will then take off to another puzzle. Once all three puzzles have been solved and all three keys collected, one person will use the keys to open three locks and release a flag. First tribe to release their flag wins Immunity. The men will sit out Jonas. Survivors ready, go!
Leading the cavalry is Jugs & Prunes (Chelsea) and Tarzan & Fancy Pants. The women quickly reach their puzzle first and begin flipping wooden pieces back and forth. Jugs whispers, "This is nothing like Boggle" while Prunes worries that the pieces are judging her. She pulls her baseball cap down even farther hoping it'll keep away the prying eyes. In the meantime, the men have finished their puzzle and Jay & Michael are well on their way to the second.
Back at where the women stand, Prunes is cowering under the table while Jugs is trying to wrestle puzzle pieces out of her hands. Meanwhile, Jay & Michael have not only solved their second puzzle, but Troyzan & Cosby are now working on their third. On the sidelines, the awaiting women are perplexed and miffed. They yell for Jugs & Prunes to look at the men's puzzle to which a righteous Tarzan stands and proclaims, "CHEATER! CHEATER!" I think he wants Dimples to put a stop to it or something, but Dimples just giggles to himself and mocks the women (again) for being such dumb asses. Then we hear Jay. Seemingly innocent Jay, nothing special Jay. He mutters, "You guys suck, you know that?" Rowr.
Eventually Jugs & Prunes finish their puzzle and Kim & Sabrina race out in an attempt to catch up. Under Dimples' guidance, they look to the men's puzzle for answers. Again we hear, "CHEATER! CHEATER!" I told you earlier that guy always has to stand for something. Yesterday it was loyalty, today it's integrity, and tomorrow it'll be lobotomy, but I'm getting ahead of myself. And so, in what has to be one of the most embarrassing challenges to date, MEN WIN IMMUNITY!!!
Flip flop, swip swap, it's now the men's turn to be happy and bask in the afterglow of victory. They look to their Idol with pride, happy to have the little man back at home. Overcome with grooviness, Cosby does a jaunty jig around the Idol and thanks him for keeping him safe tonight. From his sanctuary, Fancy Pants peers out with a sneer and with a snap of his fingers Michael is painting his toes a shimmery coral.
Back at the women's camp, Prunes is insisting that the puzzle was much harder than it looked, but it is Jugs reaction to their loss in general that is rubbing everyone the wrong way. She laughed when she should have cried. She exhaled when she should have choked on it. Sabrina calls her "dead weight with a mouth" and it's not looking too great for Jugs at Tribal tonight. Kim, however, would like to see ChaCha cha cha her way home. The two ladies weigh the pros and cons of both Jugs and ChaCha, but I think they're focusing on the wrong gals. Obviously, I'm leaning towards Prunes - for oh so many reasons - but mainly because of her baseball cap. She has to lift her head up in order to peer out from under it and that drives me bat shit crazy. Who wears their hat like that?! Ne'er-do-wells, that's who.
Back at Menudo, that indentured servant Michael is once again on his knees in front of Fancy Pants. Now, I don't know what happened (blow job) to transform Michael from a guy who seemed to stand on his own two feet into this mushy play-doh slave boy we see right now (really really good blow job), but I'm getting a little tired of him reporting every indiscretion at the foot of Fancy Pants' bed. What happened to young buff Michael? Donkey punch. What happened to the Michael with a purpose? Lemon squeeze. Oh well, I'll solve that problem later. For now, Cosby wants to chat with Her Majesty. He wants to just, you know, square things up, let bygones be bygones, leave the past in the...
"Get away from me! I don't like you! Don't touch me! I'm telling!"
Jay stares at the ground in silence while his friend Cosby is being very publicly humiliated by a guy in Keds. Meanwhile, Michael is making sand art with his fingers and quietly singing, "La la la la la." What in the sam hell is going on here? You guys used to be friends! Jay, Michael - Cosby is your buddy. He was in your alliance. Fancy Pants has an Idol not a Go Straight To The Finale pass. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you people? Where's the loyalty? So you lost Matt... big deal! Do you have any idea how easy it would be for you guys to recruit Leif? I'm sorry, but you are no longer allowed to call yourself men anymore. You're snowpeas or raisinettes (no wait, that's Kat) or mung beans. Yeah, mung beans. I have no idea what those are, but today... they're YOU.
So while the mung beans hide their heads in the sand, Cosby does what any decent person would do in this situation. He calls Fancy Pants a stuck up brat. You go Cosby! It's about time someone put that puffy macaroon in his place. I'm willing to bet that for the 5 or 6 days they've been out there, Cosby has had to endure all sorts of looks and snide comments from Fancy Pants. A person can only put up with behavior like that for so long. Sometimes, you just have to blow your top and get everything off of your chest. There always comes a time when biting your tongue just doesn't work anymore. Cosby wasn't being black. He wasn't being ghetto. And he certainly wasn't being trashy. He was being a man. Better yet, he was being a human. How the other players sit back and let the Blood Countess flop around all day reprimanding people and dictating orders is beyond me.
This Elizabeth Bathory of the Survivor world has to be stopped because now he's calling for the head of Cosby on a platter and I'm inclined to believe him. Were he only a Dorian Gray we could all go hunting for the portrait and destroy it ourselves, but alas, I fear he is far more dangerous than that. So dangerous in fact that he wants to scooch that little Immunity Idol over to the women's side and pretend he's never laid eyes on it. You say, "Fiddlesticks!" I say, "Cockamamie!" Do you want to know what Menudo says? They say, collectively mind you, "Oh sure, that sounds like a grand idea. Let's go to Tribal Council!" And off they skip into the awaiting arms of this man...
Dimples stares weirdly at the weird weirdness before him and we know we're in for some super evil Dimples 2.0 magic. "Twenty. Four. Seasons," he begins. "400 Tribal Councils and NEVER has a tribe arrived at Tribal Council after winning." Tread lightly Dimples. If you piss off Fancy Pants too much, he'll be bathing in your blood next.
Troyzan tries to explain how the men came together and agreed to give Immunity to the girls, but to look around at the men, shaking in their little booties, it's pretty clear that everyone has now realized what a mistake this was. Has the spell worn off fellas? Does reality look a little sharper by the light of the campfire? Oh well, too late.
Attention turns to Leif as Dimples asks him if he indeed told Cosby that he was the next to go. Stoic stout Leif nods and replies in the affirmative and I feel for the guy. I really do. He was just making a new friend in Cosby. He wasn't planning or plotting anything deceptive. He just wanted his new friend to know that his name had come up in conversation. Far worse sins of indiscretion have been committed on Survivor soil. I can't wrap my head around why this one in particular is so egregious. In the moment it was purely a "friend" thing. With a guy like Leif, who's probably a genuinely nice man, his brain isn't wired to think of everything around him as strategy. Sometimes you just want to shoot the shit and not have it come back to haunt you.
Dimples then turns to Fancy Pants, "Fancy Pants, when did this idea come into fruition?" "I'm the type of person that if I don't like you, I'm not gonna talk to you. Like, leave me alone." *sigh* That's not what he asked you! Dimples tries again, "Who don't you like in this game?" Fancy Pants stands on his log and chants, "C-O-S-B-Y what does that spell? COSBY!!! Yay! I hate him. "
Dimples continues, "OK and why don't you like Cosby?" Fancy Pants replies, "He's a struggling stand-up comic. Like, get a real job!"
Did you hear that everyone? Put down your paint brushes, artists. Tuck away those stanzas, poets. Musicians, throw your guitars on the bonfire. Hurry now. Colton Cumbie of Monroeville, Alabama is offended by you if you struggle for your art. How dare you take up precious space inventing and creating when instead you can sit around like a bloated easter egg filing your nails.
Cosby reacts much more calmly than I ever would when he says that perhaps the differences in their upbringings are the root of the problem. Cosby has been on his own since the age of 17 yet he always has a smile on his face. He sleeps on friends couches between gigs and still his energy is always light and effervescent. Then we have Fancy Pants. He went to an all white private school, lived a privileged lifestyle, calls his housekeeper his one and only black friend, and sits around in judgment of everyone around him. It's Pretty In Pink. Cosby is Ducky and Colton is Stef. But you know who was the happy one in Pretty In Pink? Ducky. Stef was miserable hating everything and everyone including himself and I think you'll find that Mr. Cumbie is a similar fountain of insecurity bubbling over with sociopathy, narcissism, and an urge to cut lines into his milky thighs when no one is watching.
Reaching his boiling point, Cosby's dam bursts and he lays into Fancy Pants. I, for one, dug it. It was a wave your lighter moment where "Don't you dare judge me!" and "I work with people and for no one!" are probably one their way to being new Lady Gaga songs. In response, all Fancy Pants could do was watch and wait while his skull ate his eyeballs. When your only reaction is an eye roll, I think it's safe to say that the point doesn't go to you. Cosby - 1, Fancy Pants - 0
Fancy Pants continues on a hate filled rant where I think he pissed off everyone in the South, gays, straights, people who drive trucks, people without college degrees, and people who live in trailers. I'm sure I've excluded a group or two so let's just say that Fancy Pants hates everyone. It's so much easier that way. So while this is all going on, Tarzan's hand slowly lifts. Oh god, he's ready to stand up for something again. This time it's race relations. He's sick of it. Sick of it! We have a black man in the White House so racism no longer exists. Frankly, Tarzan, I don't give a rat's ass about your take on social platitudes. I'm more disgusted by how you, and everyone else, can sit there and let Fancy Pants denigrate Cosby like he has. Each and every one of you should be horrified by the things he said. Not only that, you should band together and vote out Fancy Pants. If he uses his Idol, fine. At least he won't have it anymore and you can dig your penises out of wherever you've hidden them.
Alright, enough of this. It'll take a year to wash away the ickiness. No glittered boobages this week. Instead we get to say goodbye to Cosby who is the fourth person voted out of Survivor: One World. I'm not sure what happened out there Cosby, but you handled him as best you could. Keep on dreaming buddy and never give up. Best of luck to you.
So, what did you guys think of last night's episode? What the hell happened to Michael and Jay? How did Fancy Pants get so much power? Are Leif's days numbered? More importantly, is he a vampire? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!
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