Survivor: Faith Island
There’s a bit of a brouhaha right now over the fact that the next edition of Survivor will feature four tribes of people divided by their ethnicities. I sort of liked the idea at first until I saw a picture of the contestants and discovered that even when Surivor ups the number of minorities, they still can’t provide their faithful viewers with a hot Latino man. Seriously- how hard is it to find a sexy Hispanic man who can leave his job for 39 days? After 12 seasons, they owe us. They did however select a white dude I’m almost positive used to star in a sitcom and has appeared on a lot of shows. It used to be that the actors complained that the reality stars were taking their jobs but I guess it’s now the other way around.
Anyway, they’ve done separations based on age and gender and now race. I’m really hoping the spring edition will be based on religion. They can have the Catholics, Jews, Muslims and Agnostics/Atheists. How fun would that be? Here’s the way I see it going down:
Jeff Probst: Do you want to see what you’re playing for in today’s reward challenge?
Everybody: YEAH!!!!
Jeff Probst: A bottle of wine and an extra large pepperoni pizza! Worth playing for?
Jews: Uh, no Jeff. You know that we can only eat animals with split hooves who chew their cud. We can’t disregard such a logical rule, even though we haven’t eaten a morsel in six days. Oy.
Muslims: Ditto. But without the oy.
Catholics: FUCK! We all gave up dairy and alcohol for Lent. Figured it would be easy while we’re here.
Agnostics/Atheists: Throw in another bottle of wine and there’s a blow job in it for you, Jeff.
And with that, the Agnostics/Atheists win their first challenge by default and enjoy a hearty meal. On to the immunity challenge:
Agnostics/Atheists: Where’s everybody else?
Jeff Probst: The Jews couldn’t participate because it’s the Sabbath, the Muslims had to pray and the Catholics refused to come in protest of the fact that we provide condoms to all the players in the hopes of getting better ratings. So you guys win immunity.
Agnostics/Atheists: Woohoo! Thanks, Jeff. We’re gonna go back and have an orgy so you can get those better ratings.
Due to their forfeitures, one member of each of the other tribes is voted out. Rinse and repeat.
With six players already gone, the tribes must merge early. The A/A’s merge with five members while the other tribes enter with three each. The Catholics tell the Muslims and Jews they all need to work together to vote out the A/A’s, but the Muslims refuse to align with the Jews and the Jews resent the Catholics for telling them what to do. So they each vote for different people and the A/A’s use their five votes to take out an overzealous Palestinian Muslim with an ever-growing rock collection.
Then Elijah, the Jewish lawyer from Brooklyn, decides they need to align with the heretics. So he approaches the A/A’s:
Elijah: I think we should work together. You know, we’re not so different- you don’t believe in Jesus… we don’t believe in Jesus…
The A/A’s take the deal to work with the Jews to get rid of the Muslims and Catholics. The A/A’s also take a deal with the Catholics to get rid of the Jews and Muslims. Nobody makes any deals with the Muslims because America does not negotiate with um… people who pray five times a day because it’s hard to get a real conversation going before it’s time for the next prayers (what did you think I was going to say)?
The Catholics and Jews- forced to abide by the Ten Commandments- stick to their deals while the A/A’s- who didn’t even have their fingers crossed- promptly proceed to vote out the Catholics and Jews.
Now it’s five A/A’s and two Muslims. The A/A’s each assume their best chance in the final two is against a Muslim. So the A/A’s start picking each other off while the two Muslims continue to vote for Jews who are no longer in the game. The A/A’s plan is ruined in the final three when the one remaining Muslim goes to pray during tribal council and accidentally falls into the fire pit.
Two A/A’s go on to the final two and it’s the jury’s turn to make comments and, to the surprise of everyone, the Jews, Muslims and Catholics finally come together to make a joint statement:
Jews, Catholics, Muslims: We, God’s children, hope you both burn in hell. God Bless. Praise Allah. Shalom.
In the end, an A/A wins the loot and we all learn an important lesson: He who liveth by the least amount of laughable rules laugheth last.
Keeping Abreast Of My Surroundings
Today while waiting for an elevator at a shopping center, I observed quite a spectacle: It was a 40ish woman wearing a black micro-mini dress (at 4:00 in the afternoon). She actually had nice legs I’m sure were fresh from the liposuction office so the tiny dress wasn’t the issue. It was that she probably had the biggest, hardest, fake breasts I’ve ever seen. In LA, fake breasts are everywhere but it looked like she had two big bullhorns in her top so they really caught your attention. I tried to take a picture but I couldn’t get her at the right angle so it wouldn’t be totally obvious and I didn’t think it would fly if I asked, “Mind if I get a shot of your freakish cleavage?”
After exiting the elevator, I walked behind her and her companion for a distance and noticed that EVERY person walking toward us stared at her chest with their eyes bulging. I’m not exaggerating- EVERY person. And there were a lot of people. It was quite amusing.
It occurred to me a few minutes later that despite the roughly 10 minutes I spent in her proximity, I couldn’t pick her companion out of a police lineup. I couldn’t even tell you his hair color. She could have been walking hand in hand with Osama Bin Laden in his usual attire and not a single person in the mall would have even noticed.
Let this be a warning to you all: the next time you witness an unusual sight, whether it’s a goiter the size of Jupiter or a testicle dangling from too-short shorts, take a good look at their companions. If you don’t, then the terrorists win.
Dream Overanalysis
I always begin my sleep with a nice little fantasy. I mention this because I learned a couple years ago that not everybody does so. Some people put their head on the pillow and think about their day or what they have to do the next day. That seems like a lousy way to spend your downtime. I don’t know if there’s a correlation, but from the people I’ve discussed this with, the ones who start with a fantasy seem to be better sleepers. It’s something for you restless worrywarts to consider.
So I have a catalog of fantasies that I rotate. The usual stuff: career goals, wild adventures and of course romance are a few. For a long time my stud of choice was John F. Kennedy Jr. but after he died I tried it a few times and it just seemed creepy. Some might think that dreaming about any celebrity (dead or alive) is creepy but it’s easy since the face and personna have already been established so I don’t have to create a backstory. Why don’t I dream about guys I actually know? Because I don’t know any that are dream-worthy. It should come as no surprise that after John John I moved on to George Clooney. I actually have a fun one with him where we’re the only two survivors of a plane crash and land on a Lost-type island with a fully stocked hatch. And of course he falls madly in love with me. That should tell you the level of my self-esteem when even in my fantasies I know the only way I could nab Clooney is if I’m the only woman available. But other men occasionally make guest appearances in my dreams. For a brief time last fall, I even had a dream-fling with Billie Joe Armstrong (lead singer of Green Day), all 5’8″ of him- tattoos, eyeliner, snaggletooth and all. But I usually stick to the pretty boys like Antonio Sabato Jr. and Ricky Martin, who pop in on occasion (and in my dreams, Ricky’s definitely straight).
Then there’s the financial windfall dream. It used to be a result of hitting the jackpot on Megabucks (which would be hard to do because I never even play that slot) but now it’s a little closer to home through winning the World Series of Poker, which last week made one guy $12 million richer. In that fantasy, the pivotal moment comes when I’m in second chip position to Dan Harrington. He makes a preflop raise and I reraise with my pocket kings. He then goes all in and I’m faced with a dilemma: anybody else, I’d call immediately but the tightest player in poker just went all in against the only person who can really do his stack any damage. But how can I lay down kings??? After a long delay and a promise that he better not think he can bully me again, I fold my kings face up and he shows me pocket aces. The crowd goes wild at my stellar read and tremendous restraint in folding (not realizing it’s just because I’m chickenshit and pocket kings always seem to get me knocked out of tourneys). Somewhere along the way, Harrington is gone and I’m head-to-head with Phil Ivey. I BEG him to split the prize money and even tell him he can have the title and bracelet but he refuses. Then I kick his ass and win the $15 million (it was $12 million this year but I expect it to be $15 million when I win it). I play the good sport but inside I’m thinking, “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for not taking my offer, Ivey! Woohoo!” Then the dorky announcer Norm Chad (a guy I’ve actually played with in home games) asks me what I’m going to do with the money and I tell him I’m going to take it all to the craps table and put it on Big 6 or Big 8. My friend Courtney laughs hysterically but nobody else gets it and thinks I’m a moron for placing the worst bet in the house. Then Phil “The Unabomber” Laak is so impressed with me he dumps Jennifer Tilly and he and I ride off into the poker sunset (ok, that’s not in the dream but I do think we’d make a good couple. Maybe I’ll add him to the lineup).
So now I have $15 million dollars. I don’t need that much so I decide to give a lot of it away (because that’s how I roll ;) ). And this is where my dream takes a major downward spiral. I should be thinking about fabulous vacations on enormous yachts or sunning by the pool at my spectacular mansion while Pedro (my cabana boy) brings me pina coladas and sprays me with mist whenever he makes me too hot. I mean, whenever the sun makes me too hot. But instead I’ve got checks for $1 million dollars to give to each of my family members and suddenly I’m trying to figure out taxes and deductions through charitable donations. I actually work all that stuff out in my dream! If there are two things that don’t belong in fantasies, they’re children and math. I guess feces would be another. But I find myself doing this more and more. Even the romance dreams have gone downhill while I work out details like getting the guy out of his marriage and somehow eliminating any pesky offspring from that marriage. Or I’m trying to figure out exactly how Clooney and I managed to be the only survivors of the plane crash (plane goes down remarkably slowly in water. Apparently Clooney’s at the back of first class while I’m at the front of coach and we both lunge for the emergency exit. We grab the rope to an automatically inflating raft that’s on a plane for some unknown reason- sometimes I have to fudge reality a bit- and it yanks us up to the surface while everybody else plummets to their deaths. Bummer for them for not reacting faster).
I still like dream time but boy do I miss the days of my youth when I could go straight to the good stuff.
Signs Signs Everywhere Signs
I saw this road sign in San Diego this weekend and I wondered what its purpose is. Is it to save a text-happy, unattentive youngster from the same fate as Miss Deaf America? Or is to let people know the kid’s not making gang signs with his hands so don’t shoot him? Let’s face it, a kid in the road is a problem whether they can hear or not. All the sign does is let me know that if the first honk doesn’t work, I shouldn’t bother putting any more wear on my horn.
The sign is only slightly less ridiculous than one I saw in Massachusettes a few years ago that said “Beware of Blind Girl.” Yes, that was the exact phrasing. All I could picture was a maniacal knife-wielding little girl screaming, “If I find any of you I’m going to kill you!!!” Then trying to trick some people with “Marco…?” What a waste of taxpayer dollars. I figure anybody who needs advance warning to escape the homicidal blind girl deserves to die.
Then there are some highway signs in Tucson that measure distances in kilometers. Apparently Tucson received the memo 20 years ago that America was switching to the metric system but somehow didn’t receive the memo two days later saying, “Nobody can figure this metric stuff out so we’re switching back.” Or maybe they did and said, “But we already made the signs…”
Finally, a few weeks ago I saw a banner on an Albuquerque freeway that said “Celebrate the Interstate.” I imagine the city council meeting that resulted in that decision went something like this:
Chairman: Ok people. We need to give the people of this town something to take pride in. Any ideas?
Council Member #1: How about a big sports star?
Chairman: We don’t have any.
Council Member #2: Famous actors from Albuquerque?
Chairman: None.
Council Member #3: Great scientific achievements?
Chairman: You do realize this is Albuquerque, right?
Council Member #4: Historic landmarks?
Chairman: Such as?
Council Member #4: Good point.
Chairman: Any other ideas?
Council Member #5: This might just be the weed talking, but how about the interstate?
Everybody: That’s a great idea! Awesome! This will be the best party this town has ever seen!
To the citizens of Albuquerque let me say that if you reach the point that you’re partying in honor of a road, maybe it’s time to hit an AA meeting. Or get a job. Or load up your belongings, fill your gas tank and leave because that is a sad little town indeed.
Going Dutch (Nazi Style)
I’ve had my share of bad dating experiences but this guy is in a class all his own:
He’s so insane it’s funny.
Troubled Youth Apply Here
So two teenagers burglarize a home and steal a laptop containing sensitive government data. Another person- presumably an associate of the thieves- turns in the laptop to collect a $50,000 reward.
It made me think: If anybody knows some young hooligans looking to take someone into their confidence, please have them contact Aunt Nene. Discretion is assured (unless another c-note is waved in my face).
We Have The Same Birthday! Oh Wait…
I got a big kick out of this one:
A bar waitress checking to see if a woman was legally old enough to drink was handed her own stolen driver’s license, which was reported missing weeks earlier, police said. (Full story)
I’m almost surprised she looked at it carefully enough to notice it was hers. Back when I had a fake I.D., I used it show it while I was with the person whose old license it was. Nobody ever noticed.
The Passion Of The Israelis
Do you remember those ads in comic books that featured the scrawny guy hanging out at the beach with his girl and a big bully comes along and kicks sand in his face? Scrawny is humiliated so he takes some pills and pretty soon he’s beating the crap out of everybody else (the anger certainly derived from the fact that his girl left him now that he’s hung like a doorbell).
Israel is reminding me a lot of Scrawny.
Israel used to be our little oppressed democratic brethren in the Middle East. Now they’re the scrappy drunk guy at the bar ready to punch your lights out because you accidentally brushed against him.
First Israel invaded Gaza in retaliation for the deaths of two soldiers and kidnapping of another, leaving 150 Palestinians and one Israeli soldier dead. Now they’re bombing the hell out of Lebanon to gain release of two kidnapped soldiers resulting in the deaths of almost 600 Lebanese and 55 Israelis- including 36 soldiers. Isn’t anybody over there doing the math?
They’ve been so hasty in their recent attacks, are they absolutely certain they’re going after the right people? We had years of intelligence on WMD’s that lead to our war on Iraq. Lotta good that did us. Israel’s attacking Hamas and Hezbollah, meanwhile Al Quaida’s probably in their caves snickering with three captive soldiers. Or maybe the soldiers weren’t even kidnapped and they’re just on a drunken gambling binge on a Mediterranean riverboat. Weirder things have happened. And how do you apologize for a goof like that? “Heh heh- you Lebanese are gonna get a kick out of this one: Turns out the craps tables and titty bars were calling. Sorry we’ve destroyed your country but here are some gold coins as compensation. Shalom.”
I think it’s time for the United States to remind Israel that no matter how tough they think they are, we’ll always be tougher. And if they don’t chill out soon, we’re gonna go Mel Gibson on their asses.
