Thursday, April 26, 2012
A pork on the lam huddled under a burlap sack rides in the back of a rickety ramshackle jalopy in search of adventure, in search of experience. Up until now it's been eat, poop, roll around, talk to spiders, sleep. A pig needs more than that! A pig needs stimulation, camaraderie, seasoning if you will. So one day when the jalopy hit a lobster claw in the road that looked suspiciously like a nipple, Horatio had no choice but to jump off the tailgate and wander the mean streets of Samoa. And wander he did... right into a homeless camp of tooth picking pod people. New friends! Upon seeing Horatio, these new friends didn't welcome him warmly. Rather, they licked their honey mustard lips and began to frantically slice pineapples. One girl inexplicably ran around in circles with a rope while another stood with a paper plate waiting for ham sandwiches to go flying through the air. Fortunately for Horatio, these scraggly ne'er-do-wells were neither bright nor determined. After five minutes of a Benny Hill chase they collapsed into an exhausted pile and gave up. While they slept, Horatio rebuilt the shelter, found a Hidden Immunity Idol, voted off the Sisters Grim, and went on to have his own show on A&E called Pigging Out. I hear he even has a fragrance coming out next year called Porcanthemum. Let's recap, shall we?
So here we are, back again. The little man is gone or maybe he's still sleeping in that fruit crate? *shrugs shoulders* If the smell of death starts to eek out of what the Survivors are now using as a bench, I guess we'll take a look-see and see if it's cookable. Until then, the sun's gone dim, and the moon's turned black. It's dark and hopeless out here at God Of The Anus (née Tikiano). Tarzan (Greg) counts on his tongue depressor fingers - one, two, two men - and then mumbles to no one in particular that he might as well pack up his surgical tools (glue sticks, sea cucumbers, and twine) and head on home. Or maybe he could join the women, but keep it on the down low that he's really working with Troyzan (Troy). Eh, no biggie, he's got a vaginobivalvoplasty in the morning so... *yawn* nighty night.
Handlebar (Kim), however, is slightly more agitated. Sitting in a corner twirling her mustache, she's not exactly thrilled that her name came up at Tribal Council. She was hoping to keep her presence in this game a big fat secret for as long as possible. You know - very little personality, no sudden movements, a quiet slithering through the greenery. Wallpaper. Think wallpaper. The problem with wallpaper is that no matter how nondescript or boring it is, inevitably it'll bug the crap out of someone and that someone is Troyzan. He's onto you Handlebar and your mismatched stripes. Whether in the daylight or late at night, all he does is stare and stare at your wiggedy whack lines. If he can't tear you out with his own bare hands, then he'll point you out over and over again until someone finally pays attention. It's all he has. He's alone in this game for now. Tarzan may be a man, but he doesn't count. He's a help to no one... except maybe a poor third world child with a harelip who's open to having a little papier mache reconstructive work done.
Sidebar: What's with all the freaking food this season? I mean, come on! These bitches eat better than I do and I'm not stranded on an island calling myself a "Survivor". I'm just a wee bitch with a case of gin and a couple of packets of uncooked pop tarts. Occasionally, I'll dip some Klonopin in Nyquil and call it a banquet. Never in my life have I had a spread of steaks, potato salad, lobsters, pies, cakes, cupcakes every three days. Every three days! Not every Reward Challenge has to have food you know. Stop coddling these chuckleheads CBS. I want to play ribs like xylophones and watch their hair fall out. Now that's entertainment!
Kerplunk! We've arrived at another Reward Challenge only this one is slightly more delicious than others we've seen in the past. First off, there are creepy voodoo doppelgangers of the Survivors hanging ominously above a funeral pyre waiting to be lit. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times - more setting stuff on fire on reality shows! I'm also open to burning losing contestants on a stake. Tarring and feathering, drawing and quartering... I'm chock full of ideas. Holla at your girl CBS. I'll make your shows great again.
OK so for today's challenge, Dimples will ask you a series of embarrassing questions where you will openly humiliate one another. The goal is to pick which Survivor you think the group picked as a whole. If you get the answer right, you get to chop a rope holding up the Voodoo People. If your creepy doll gets chopped 3 times, it will fall into the fire and we'll all get to watch as the skin burns away and your ribs turn to ash. The last person standing will win a helicopter ride to a picnic. Survivors ready, go.
Question #1: Who doesn't deserve to be in the game?
A Greek chorus of ChaCha's (Christina) rings out in the amphitheater as Troyzan, Handlebar, and Prunes (Chelsea) get it right.
Question #2: Who would you trust with your life?
I would have picked Tarzan because of what he can do with scotch tape and a staple gun, but the group picks Handlebar and Troyzan's doll falls into the fire.
Question #3: Who most needs a wake up call in life?
Kat, Kat, Kat, Kat, Kat... a thousand times Kat. I wanted to feel bad for Kat, but then I saw this...
Naturally, I ripped off my shirt, pushed pause, and danced naked around the room while chucking prunes at the television. I mean, look at that. It's even wearing the ugly hat! (Thank you Rob for this photo because I know, I KNOW, you did this especially for me.)
Question #4: Who is the biggest poseur?
Everyone but Jugs, who picks ChaCha, picks Troyzan. I'll go ahead and agree with the group on this one. Anyone who adds a 'zan at the end of their name is a douche. Love, Colette Lalazan
Question #5: Who does the least for their tribe?
I expected to see any number of names. Maybe Tarzan because he's always in surgery. Maybe ChaCha because she seems to be a slow mover. Maybe Kat because she pees in the water hole and bathes in the poop ditch. Or maybe Prunes because all she does is pick her teeth and moan. The one name I didn't expect to see was Sabrina. If they picked her over ChaCha, then you know the bitch is lazy. And in this round we lose Kat and Sabrina to the hungry flames.
Question #6: Who would you most like to be stranded with on an island?
Handlebar wins with an overwhelming majority which leaves me scratching my head. Handlebar? Really? Days spent staring at nothing. Low monotone conversations about the weather as the years passed by and your sanity fizzled to a little piece of dust. I'd hurl myself into the fire if I had to spend an eternity with that whole mess of boredom. My choice would be Kat. I'd bring court jesters back into society and Kat would be their patron saint. We'd dance jauntily around the campfire and wear hats with bells on the ends. Anyhow, we lose ChaCha in this round.
Question #7: Who do you hope to never see again?
*holds up Prunes sign* The correct answer is Troyzan and... HANDLEBAR WINS REWARD!!!
So, Handlebar, who would you like to take on Reward with you? "Jugs!" Huh? But, but, but... you said there was no way in hell you'd choose Jugs. Dimples then tells Handlebar to pick another person to join her. Kat packs up her belongings, pats down her hair, whips a fork fashioned out of birch twigs out of her back pocket, and makes her way over to Handlebar. "Prunes! I pick Prunes." Kat stops in her tracks confused at to why "Prunes" doesn't rhyme with "hat". Seeing Kat's crestfallen face, Handlebar whispers how sorry she is, but Prunes is just so hungry. She never eats. Hold up Geraldo, didn't Prunes just go on a Reward? Didn't she get to eat cake at that auction? Tell her to eat that ugly hat of hers if she's so hungry.
Troyzan turns to Kat and says, "See? You're not a top dog. You're on the bottom! If they liked you, they would have chosen you. Now let's vote out Handlebar!" Kat purses her lips in response and stares down at her grumbling tummy. Troyzan's words aren't really computing. What is computing is that a happy Prunes and Jugs are climbing into a helicopter getting ready to stick their heads face first in a vat of macaroni salad.
Back at camp, Kat just can't let this not getting picked thing go. She's hungry too dammit! Troyzan tries again to chisel away at the cookie layer on Kat's brain - "It wasn't about food today. It was about strategy." A chocolate chip falls to the ground as Kat stares back vacantly. Troyzan then grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her crumb by crumb. "Wake up," he implores. "You have to wake up to what's really going on." Still, it's not registering. Kat isn't mad that she's not in Handlebar's top three. She's mad she didn't get picked and now the national television viewing audience will see her as a weak player. Now, you're worried about being weak? NOW? I'm sorry to burst your Bazooka bubble head, but we've always thought you were weak and it has nothing to do with Hairy Hairy Quite Contrary not picking you. Don't get me wrong, we find you funny and charming in a bumping into walls kind of a way, but we never really thought of you as strong, Kat.
Troyzan, God love him, doesn't give up. He tries and tries to find an opening where he can deliver some common sense to sad Kat. But all he comes up with is a sticky jelly coating that can't be penetrated. Only Goo Gone and a sledgehammer might be able to make some headway, but as Tarzan is in the middle of a molluskytuck, all of the tools are otherwise occupied.
The more Troyzan talks and reasons and pleads, the more Kat breaks down to the point of liquification. Sugary tears leak from her eyes as she storms away annoyed at her crumbling cookie layer. Troyzan telling her over and over again that she's not one of Handlebar's final three isn't just pissing her off, it's making her crack. Yet, she still doesn't get it. It still isn't sinking in. Her outer shell is crumbling all around her, her friends are off licking mayonnaise off one another, Troyzan keeps hurling emphatic daggers of truth and yet... nothing. Not a damn thing but "I don't want to be seen as weak. *sniffle sniffle*"
There are some people in the world who have the capacity to only deal with one problem at a time. Add an additional dilemma to their lives and they lose the plot. They go crazy. They're confused and jumbled up inside. This is Kat. Non multi-tasking Kat. Right now she's dealing with not getting picked. Later, maybe, when she's reconciled all of her feelings, sought therapy for what the blogs will say, and gotten over not being picked... then she'll be able to move on and deal with the strategy aspect of it all. Unfortunately for her, Survivor is only 39 days long and her season will be long over when 2015 rolls around.
Eventually, Handlebar, Jugs, and Prunes return from their Reward to find a soggy lump of cookie dough at the base of a tree. Handlebar picks it up gingerly, takes it to the beach, and places it next to her. Looking down at the gooey dough with wet eyelashes, Handlebar says quietly, "Don't be mad." Nimble fingers from inside the dough start hurling chocolate chips and almonds at Handlebar's face as a tiny voice yells, "I'm furious!" Handlebar picks a nut out of her mustache and says, "You know how much I adore you Kat." Kat sniffles as she kneads herself back together.
Handlebar hopes she's made Kat feel better, but was all this flour and egg in her hair worth it? Rubbing her full belly, she regrets winning. She regrets not picking Kat. She regrets not bringing her Nair... wait a tic, is that a pig?!?
*Horatio enters camp, removes his hat and bows. "How do you do? My name is Horatio. Can you spare a drop of water for a weary traveler?"*
Handlebar hollers, "KILL THE PIG!!!"
From out of nowhere banjo music starts to play as Horatio drops his knapsack and begins to flee. Cries of "Grab the ax!" fill the air as Troyzan fashions a lasso out of some surgical twine. ChaCha runs to the makeshift kitchenette to slice some pineapple while Kat spreads mayonnaise on slices of bread.
"Just eat the leg!"
"Stick an apple in it's mouth!"
"Spear the hell out of it!"
Horatio hides under a bush as he wonders what sort of maniacal devil worshiping camp he's wandered into. All he wanted was an adventure, a little time to find himself. Instead, he has walked right into some sort of carnival abattoir inexplicably covered in cookie crumbs and various marine life appendages. Lucky for him, these freaks keep tripping over their own feet and lassoing one another. In the end, the castaways are about as good at killing as they are at playing the game of Survivor and Horatio lives. In fact, he's convinced them to give him a bed in their shelter and a bowl of rice. I predict he wins Fan Favorite. Text LITTLE PIGGY to 1-800-CBS-SUCKS.
And this brings us to the big Immunity Challenge. Come on in guys! For today's challenge, Survivors will face off and slide down a slip-n-slide while gathering rope rings. Once they reach the end, they'll hurl their rings at a post. The person who lands their ring on a hook will move onto the next round where they'll do it all over again having to land two rings. The winner of Round 3 will win Immunity. Survivors ready, go!
First up is Prunes and Jugs. After getting lubed up... hang on, I'm still waiting on Jugs to finish lubing up her jugs. *tick tock, tick tock, 10 minutes pass* Ok, now we can begin. Both daintily hit the slide with Prunes popping one of her water balloon boobs. You should've listened to Tarzan when he suggested sand filled chesticles would last longer. Mine feel awesome and they form nicely around beer bottles. Blah, blah, blah, Prunes wins.
Kat dances her way to victory over Sabrina in her heat and everyone everywhere is happy she's back to her old self again.
Next up are the 'Zan boys - Tarzan v. Troyzan. A frantic Troyzan knows he has to win this. He's in the zone. He's sliding his way to the end while Tarzan is inching along at a snail's pace. Throw, throw, throw - goes Troyzan. Miss, miss, miss - goes Troyzan. After about a half an hour of Troyzan chasing his rope ring all over the place, Tarzan arrives and waits. And waits, and waits, and waits. Toss! Tarzan wins. Wait, Tarzan wins? Yup, Tarzan wins. Oh dear.
The competition continues, but it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? How can we possibly care about Handlebar beating ChaCha when Troyzan is standing on the beach with a gun in his hand. Staring at the sea, staring at the sand... dead man on the beach, dead man on the beach.
In the end... HANDLEBAR WINS IMMUNITY!!! But so what? So freaking what? Troyzan needed that win and, quite frankly, I'm sick of Handlebar winning/planning everything. I mean, I guess she's doing well in the game, but she's so boring! Looking into my crystal ball and seeing a Handlebar victory makes me cringe. I cringe for the predictability of it all. I cringe for the complacency from all the other players. I cringe at quiet introspective game play. Quiet introspective game play is ruining reality television!
Back at camp, Handlebar does what Handlebar does best. She tells everyone exactly how to vote and everyone nods back at her dumbly. Stupid robot pod people. Think for yourselves! Don't let her tell you what to do! Letting another person call all of shots is essentially letting that person win the game. Does the name Boston Rob ring a bell? I'm suddenly reminded of a movie quote... Our little plan worked, didn't it, Ronald? The dance. That stupid dance! What a bunch of followers you guys are. I mean, at least I got... At least I got paid. Name the movie in the comments and you're a big weiner. Name the dance and you're a double big weiner.
So the plan is to split the votes between Troyzan and ChaCha. Handlebar and her little clan of followers are still unsure as to whether or not Troyzan has the Idol so splitting the votes works in their favor. Although, why ChaCha? Why not Tarzan or Jugs? Tarzan is a penis person and Jugs is far more threatening than ChaCha will ever be.
To make matters even more unbelievable, Sabrina marches up to ChaCha and tells her that they're voting for her. She tells her! She. Tells. Her. *smacks self in head* Oh, and get this... ChaCha is fine with it! She goes up to Handlebar and says it's ok for them to write her name down. *jams a shish kabob poker in the eye* They should write down Sabrina's name for being such a dim witted big mouth. I'm amazed Handlebar has gotten as far as she has with these half wits on her heels. I guess that's a credit to her leadership skills. I don't know. On the one hand, they're easy to manipulate. On the other hand, they're morons!
After thinking about what Sabrina has told her, ChaCha chats with Troyzan in the water and wonders to herself how she can possibly trust the girls anymore. Better late than never I guess. She proposes to Troyzan that they vote out Prunes (yes!), but Troyzan has a feeling the girls will be splitting the votes. And his feeling tells him that the split will have nothing to do with Prunes. If only he could figure out who the other person is that they're writing down... "So they're going to write down my name," says ChaCha... out of nowhere. *plucks eyeball out with rusty spoon* Troyzan smiles to himself. All he needs now are four people to vote out ChaCha.
Before Tribal Council Troyzan tries one last time to recruit as many people as he can. Tarzan gives him a noncommittal burble while Kat replies by blowing a bubble in his face. Good luck with that buddy.
And this brings us to Tribal Council with Dimples looking fetching in green. He inquires immediately if the tribe is still divided by gender. Troyzan assures him that it is. Dimples next asks Sabrina who is number 6 and number 5. Sabrina replies with, "It's been down do day 2, day 10." *scratches head* Huh? I move that from now on when someone doesn't answer Dimples' question directly, they get poked with a cattle prod. Just to mix things up and keep them honest.
ChaCha chimes in and says there has never been a discussion about who is the top 3 or top 5 to which Prunes, dumb ass Prunes, replies, "Nu uh! We've had our top 3 since day one!" And there it is. There. It. Is. That is exactly what Jugs, Kat, and ChaCha need to know. That's it! There's your answer ladies. Prunes just said she had a top 3 since day one and if you don't recall having a conversation about that with her, then guess what? You're not in it!
ChaCha still doesn't get it though. She maintains that the top 3 is changing everyday. Dimples finally can't help himself and asks, "ChaCha, why are you here?" ChaCha replies, "Because I'm one lucky girl." Now, I thought Dimples was asking why she was there in the game of Survivor not how she lasted that long. Regardless, Jugs starts cracking up and cites how everyone said in the Reward Challenge that ChaCha shouldn't be there. Ok. Good point Jugs, but you know what that tells me? That tells me that ChaCha would be the perfect person to take the end. You stood there and witnessed an entire tribe saying ChaCha sucks in this game. "Hot dog! I'm taking her to the end" would have been my response. Not, "nya nya nya nya no one likes you."
The bickering between Jugs and ChaCha continues as Jugs accuses ChaCha of having no strategy. ChaCha insists she that she does indeed have strategy. Only, it's a quiet strategy. A silent strategy, if you will. A strategy of which cannot be spoken or seen. A strategy that exists beneath the surface.
It is here that Troyzan tries to sell the women oceanfront property in Kansas. Ole Kansas Boy Dimples giggles to himself and says, "There's no ocean in Kansas!" Kat whispers to Handlebar, "I wonder how much that property is going for."
Alright, enough chitchat. Time to read the votes. One vote for Prunes, three votes for ChaCha, and four votes for Troyzan. Troyzan is the the 11th person voted out of Survivor One World.
So, what did you guys think of last night's episode? Are you sad to see Troyzan go? Will the dumb ass girls ever turn on Handlebar? Did Troyzan crack Kat's cookie shell enough? Can Tarzan possibly sneak through to the end? Will you vote Horatio as Fan Favorite? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!
Posted by Colette Lala at 12:57 PM