My shitty Valentine

Throwback insert-day-of-the-week-here

When I was twenty-three (back in the stone age) I used to date an old man; he was thirty-eight (therefore born shortly after the Big Bang). This piece of shit decided to dump me on Valentine’s Day. Back then, I hadn’t yet learned the reflex to scoff with cynical detachment at this “holiday” which I now see for what it is: a ploy to pack restaurants on a week night and sell chocolate and red lace lingerie.

Back to the dark ages, I was understandably devastated. Getting dumped hurts, and getting dumped on Valentine’s Day only adds insult to injury. so I was home (I lived in England back then), licking my wounds, swearing off men and toying with the idea of making a voodoo doll in the resemblance of my brand new ex. That’s when a new piece of information was brought to me; I hadn’t just gotten dumped on Valentine’s Day; I’d gotten dumped on Valentine’s Day FOR A FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. That filthy perv.

I saw red. Not cheesy Valentine’s-Day-heart-shaped-chocolate-box red; blood red. Apparently, I was too old for this particular thirty-eight years old teenager. At the ripe old age of twenty-three, I had been dumped for a younger woman.
Thankfully for my sanity, by then, anger had superseded sadness.
So I did what any extremely pissed off very newly single gal living in England would do: I grabbed my best friend by the sleeve and hit the pub with a vengeance.
Then another pub.
Then another.
Then an… Wait. That’s his car. The piece of shit’s car. The old perv’s car. Here, Parked right outside the pub. With no one in sight.

A lightbulb went on. Revenge. I had a real good idea for a real shitty revenge. Quite literally. But I needed props. Or more precisely, *a* prop.

I needed poop.

You see where I’m going with this?

We walk in the pub. POS isn’t here. But what *is* here, however, is a dog. My best friend, who confirmed that night that he was indeed my best friend, because only the best of friends will endorse your stupidest ideas slipped in my ear that “Hey, this dog must shit”.

Indeed. In the small outdoor passageway between the front and the back of the pub, there was a large fresh dog turd. Perfect. I put in a plastic bag, went back outside, looked right, looked left; perfect time for a perfect crime. I smeared dog shit all over the windshield of his BMW. Thick enough that there was no way he could drive without cleaning it up first.
Here’s a nice ending to your Valentine’s date with your little teenage girlfriend, asshole.

Maybe I read too many Greek tragedies, but revenge felt hella GOOD. To this day, I still have no regret.

Somehow, he found out it was me. Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was when I did the deed. Maybe someone saw me from the pub’s window. Don’t know. Don’t care.
Shortly afterwards, he confronted me about it. I denied.

Back then, I lived in Norwich. Later, I moved to London. But on one of my occasional visits back to Norwich, I learned some interesting tidbit about him. As in, he was in prison for pimping underage prostitutes.
I call it karma.

The moral of this story is: guys, don’t dump your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. Because karma’s a bitch. And she’s an even bigger bitch on February 14th.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

Yet another Survivor podcast

Well, sorta. It’s really more like a YouTube video, minus the video part. Reason for that is that I couldn’t figure out how to extract the audio part and I didn’t have the time to learn how to do it because it’s festival season

Let me explain a little better. Then after that, if you think you can handle listening to two Canadians yabbering about what is now old Survivor news for three hours with funny accents (mine, especially), press the play button below (or click on the link in case embedding videos turns out to be another thing I can’t figure out.)

So I met Craig – my co-host – two or three years ago through a couple of the gazillion Survivor Facebook groups I’m a part of. In spite of a few somewhat heated discussions, we always got along well and are known to often engage in back-and-forth banter within those groups.

The idea of recording a podcast is his. It’s something that had crossed my mind a few times previously, but I couldn’t find anyone who was willing to do it, and let’s face it, I didn’t look very hard. I think I asked one person during Cagayan, they said “Meh” and that was pretty much it. After that, my interest in the idea waned quite a bit because the two seasons that followed Cagayan were nowhere near as good, and the prospect of podcasting about them wasn’t particularly appealing.

But all that changed at the beginning of last month, when Survivor decided to American Idol the viewers by “letting us pick the cast for next season”.

Now, let’s get real; we didn’t pick nada. All we did was narrow down the cast of thirty-two people they had picked down to twenty. If Survivor has learned one thing from Idol, it is that leaving this kind of responsibility in the hands of millions of couch potatoes is, well, irresponsible. (See: American Idol cancellation. See also: even with a pool of thirty-two people to choose from, we still managed to fuck up, because unless he has a fantastic ghost writer, as far as I know, Shane Powers is on Twitter and not in Cambodia like he should be. Just sayin’. Sorry guys, I’m still seething.)

But I digress. Back to the podcast and to why it exists. About halfway through season 30, Survivor finally agrees with the rest of us that the season doesn’t deserve the hype they gave it in the first place, and to stop us from whining about how Dan is sexist and Will is an asshole, they distract us with The Vote. And boy did it work. Shits were no longer given about Dan’s sexism, Will’s assholery, or season 30 in general, because we were too busy discussing who we were voting for, listening to podcasts featuring the season 31 hopefuls whoring themselves out to get back on the show, then heading back online to dissect what they said.

And it’s during one of these discussions that Craig threw the idea of doing a podcast or some kind of round table blog post about the Second Chance hoopla. And I jumped on it. Not only had I found someone interested in doing a podcast, but it was also happening at a time when I was particularly fired up. I mean, let’s be real, the whole voting process was pretty awesome; I hadn’t seen such a fever in the Survivor community in a long time, and it was really cool to be a part of it. So I enthusiastically said yes to Craig’s suggestion.

There was only one little problem: neither of us had the slightest clue as to how one records a podcast.

Fast forward a month, a LOT of Googling, and a significant amount of bandwidth spent messaging back and forth, and there you are. We created the monster. A three hours long audio-only YouTube video. In which we talk about stuff that was hot several weeks ago. But since Dalton Ross is still posting these thank you notes from the Second Chances cast on Instagram, I figure it’s still OK for us to post a three hours long non-video about something that happened over a month ago.

So there it is. In all its unedited glory, because it’s festival season in Montreal and most of my free time these days is spent downtown, standing in front of a stage, watching a band perform. Not the best place to read Audacity’s user manual.

But if there is a next time and we decide to do another podcast, I promise we will make more of an effort. However, for the time being, this is what you get. It’s a little long and we do get off topic more than once, but overall, we find that for a first effort from two complete podcasting noobs, it’s actually not that bad. (Plus my best friend listened to it and said it was good. Coming from someone who has me as a best friend, it’s gotta be true.)

So there you are. Enjoy. Or not. Feel free to give us your feedback. And don’t make fun of my accent or I’ll unfollow you on Twitter.

“Survivor” 27: Would you like some twists with your twists?

Howdy bitches! Whaddup? Had a good summer? Ready for the fall TV line-up? And more importantly, are you excited over the new show which will be starting to air tonight at 8pm while Survivor is on hiatus?

I’m sorry, what was that? Survivor isn’t on hiatus? The program debuting tonight is Survivor? Oh, honey. No it ain’t, but if believing that it is makes you feel better, by all means, go ahead and keep on fooling yourself. Here, have some more wool to pull over your eyes, and now, get out of here, go tell Russell Hantz on Twitter how he was robbed in Samoa and should have won, and let us grown-ups have an adult conversation, K?

Ugh. Damn casuals.

So, where was I? Oh yeah. The show that is replacing Survivor, and which, for some odd reason, CBS insists on calling Survivor even though they’re wrong. My theory behind this is that since this new show will air during what has been Survivor’s time slot for quite a while, and since it will comprise many a familiar face, starting with Jeff Probst’s, CBS figured out that calling it “Let’s Twist Again” or some clever shit like that would probably confuse the viewing audience, and evenmoreso, America’s favourite airhead, Kat Edorsson. (Kat, if you ever read this, just prepare yourself for the fact that I’m gonna bag on you a LOT this season. But also know that I’ll be doing it out of love. So it’s a compliment, really. Kinda.)

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Last minute pre-Big Brother 14 finale thoughts

Hi everyone! Or rather, hi to you, clearly lost internet wanderer!

In normal times, I would probably start this entry with three paragraphs of bullshit excuses as to why I haven’t blogged for yonks, but in this present case, I must skip this step and start dealing with actual content, because if I’m like, sitting on a time bomb right now, what with the Survivor premiere airing as we speak, and the Big Brother 14 finale coming on right after that.

So yes, ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s a BIG night in this here household. In fact, I’d even go as far as saying that for the reality TV whore that I am, a night like this is just like the Superbowl and the hockey playoffs rolled up into one, except that it’s not because a) I don’t really give a shit about sports, and b) we may not even have a hockey season at all this year, so really, my analogy sucks balls, but you know what I mean.

 

Anyhoo those of you who know me, whether it be online or off, are likely well aware of my decade-long obsession with all things Survivor, so you’d think I’d be tripping all over myself at the idea of watching a 90 minutes premiere of my favourite show on earth, and one featuring three returning players whom I actually like and whom it actually made sense to bring back (for once), given that they were all removed from their previous season(s) for medical reasons.

Yet, while I’m excited about it, I’d be lying if I didn’t fess up to the fact that I’m WAY more excited about the Big Brother 14 finale. And that to me, feels very weird, because I’m nowhere near as huge a Big Brother fan as I am a Survivor fan.

While I’ve always liked Big Brother, it’s one of these shows I’ve only watched sporadically over the years. I’ve seen a couple of seasons in their entirety, or almost (seasons 4 and 8, if I’m not mistaken) and I’ve watched good chunks of 6, 12 and 13, but my problem with Big Brother has always been timing; the show airs in the summer. And I happen to live in a city where the winter lasts for approximately two years, or so it seems, so I don’t have three hours a weeks to dedicate to a TV show in the summer. Summer’s made to play outside.

 

Yet, this summer, not only have I managed to get through the entire season of Big Brother 14 without missing a single episode, but I’ve LOVED it. In fact, I’ve loved it a lot more than I have Survivor’s most recent seasons. And that, coming from me, is saying a lot.

So what was it about Big Brother 14 that kept me glued to my couch on all those hot summer nights I would have normally spent sipping a warm beer in a park somewhere? Well, I’d say it’s a combination of several things.

First, the coaches twist is what initially reeled me in. While I’m an outspoken hater of the returnees twist on Survivor, I didn’t have a problem with it on Big Brother, even though it was glaringly obvious that sooner or later, the coaches would have the opportunity to join the game as players. But while it lasted, I did find the concept interesting and thought it worked quite well.

Second, I thought the show made interesting choices as to which past players to bring back. Even though I had no idea who the hell Mike Boogie and Dan Gheesling were until this past July, I liked that two of the coaches were from early seasons, and the other two, from recent ones. Plus I’ve always liked Janelle and Britney, so I was cool with seeing them again.

Third, Mike Boogie, Mike Boogie, Mike Boogie. OK, I’ll confess, over the course of the season, I’ve developed a weird crush on Boogie, which makes absolutely zero sense because my first thought about him when he entered the house was: “Who the fuck is this tool?” Yet a couple of episodes in, I found myself harbouring some wildly inappropriate thoughts for said tool, and rooting big time for team Boogie and Chill Town 2.0, until someone threw a proverbial bucket of cold water at me, and that someone turned out to be Ian.

But while it was a bummer to have my eye candy taken away from me in such abrupt fashion, my days of saying: “I’m done with this season” when my favourite player gets eliminated from the game are very far behind me. So I kept watching.

And my streak of bad luck kept going. Shortly after losing my boyfriend Boogie, Frank got ousted. But still, I stuck with it. Half-heartedly, but I did. And boy, was that a good call.

Because all of a sudden, who comes out of the woodwork? Dan. Friggin’. Gheesling. And oh, My. God. Who knew Dan Gheesling was such an evil genius? Not me, that’s for sure. And I didn’t see it coming. At all. In fact, for the first half of the season, barely noticed that Dan was in the house (I blame Mike Boogie for that). Then one day, from out of nowhere, BAM, he comes up with that Dan’s funeral thing, which sent me in for one helluva loop. I think I had a grin plastered on my face for two hours after watching that episode. Moments like this are what makes reality shows like Survivor and Big Brother worth watching. They are few and far between, but when they happen, you remember them for years.

And this is a move I will definitely remember for years. I was floored when it happened. In fact, I still am. How the hell he pulled that off still amazes me, even several weeks later. I would go as far as saying that this in my top 5, maybe even my top 3 of the best single moves I’ve ever witnessed on reality TV. This is on the same level as Parvati playing two idols on Survivor: Heroes versus Villains, or Boston Rob’s mindfucking Lex into keeping Amber around in Survivor: all-stars. Absolutely masterful.

Then last week, guess what? He does it again. Somehow, he manages to persuade Danielle to play her veto on him, and next thing you know, Shane’s out the door with no idea what hit him. Man, I LOVE this kind of shit. This guy is GOOD. REALLY. GOOD. All-caps totally justified here.

 

So Dan for the win, all the way, as far as I’m concerned. Even though I could live with an Ian win. Ian played a good game, made a couple of cutthroat moves, the most cutthroat of which sent my man Boogie out the door, but that’s by the by. No one said Big Brother was a nice game, and if it was a nice game, I probably wouldn’t watch it.

The only thing that could screw Dan over at this point, is a bitter jury. He played hands down the best game this season, and quite possibly the best game ever in Big Brother (no I haven’t seen the seasons with Dr. Will, but I will definitely watch them at some point, although my main motivation to do so is that Boogie’s in them too, but to each their own perversion.)

But going back to Dan, he may have played too dirty of a game for his own good and put too much blood on his hands, and it’s not unlikely that it will come back to bite him in the ass tonight. I just really, really hope it doesn’t, because if anyone deserves to win this Big Brother season, it’s Dan friggin’ Gheesling. By MILES.

 

So Dan, I wish you the best of luck tonight. And thanks a ton for single-handedly making the second half of this season so much fun, exciting and unpredictable. I’ll see you at 9.30, ready to yell “Go Dan!” non-stop for ninety minutes.

Until then I’m off to buy booze, because my plan tonight is to get all liquored up during the first half of the Big Brother 14 finale, and then spend the second half flooding @CBSBigBrother’s Twitter timeline with inappropriate Mike boogie related tweets, in the hopes that by the end of the broadcast, they let him know that he has a Canadian stalker, but one who tweets with a French accent. Apparently, everything is sexier with a French accent. Even drunken stalkerish tweets of a dubious sexual nature. Let’s hope it’s true.

 

OK, I’m out of here. One more time, Dan, I’m rooting for you big time, so go win this damn thing. And thanks to everyone who was involved with this Big Brother season in some way or another, it truly was a blast to watch. Especially you, Mike Boogie. Now if only I could get a closer look and… nevermind. I’ll save that for Twitter later on. Bye for now bitches! And go Dan!

Survivor: One World; the end is afoot

OK, so first, in case Greg “Tarzan” “Scaramouche” Smith (or anyone else who values good diction as much as he does) reads this, I’d like to apologize in advance for my potential improper use of the word “afoot”. The temptation to use it was just impossible to resist, especially since this will likely be my last opportunity to do so in a Survivor-related entry since:

– Tarzan has sadly gotten his comeuppance (albeit much later than I would have wagered after poopgate.)

– I bet you a bottle of wine that we’ll never hear the word “afoot” again on Survivor. (Note to those with a lesser command of the English language than Tarzan: “afoot” =/= “a foot”. So if two seasons from now, you hear Brandon Hantz say: “I was sleeping soundly when I was abruptly awoken by a foot in my face; it was my uncle Russell’s”, don’t send me your mailing address with a list of suggested wines with goofy prices such as $750 (I’ve seen it). Nor $75, for that matter. Max. value is $12 (CND) and I don’t ship nada. If you want it that much, come and get it. I’ll make sure to personally deliver it to you in a downtown Montreal public place of my choosing.)

Anyhoo, this 24th season of Survivor will soon be a thing of the past. However, unfortunately not of the glorious past I remember fondly when I reflect on why I love this show so much. To put it simply, One World is no Pearl Islands. And just to give you an idea, although I haven’t re-watched Pearl Islands (season 7) since it originally aired, I still remember it much better than I do some of the more recent seasons, like say, Samoa (season 19).

Which is a shame really, because I really had high expectations for Survivor: One World.

And maybe that’s the problem: I had too high expectations for Survivor: One World.

Survivor 22: Redemption Island – episode 1 recap

Howdy bitches. Long time no blog. Twitter’s fault. I had no idea it would be so damn addictive when I signed up.

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Anyway, Survivor is upon us again in all its faded but still strangely seductive glory. And tonight, the granddaddy of reality television began its 22nd season, one which promises to be filled with even more manufactured drama and desperate gimmicks than its 20th, Heroes vs Villains.

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Halfway through Survivor: Nicaragua, which I immensely enjoyed, I found myself bitterly regretting not to have faced Twitter cold-turkey and gotten around to recapping it, but addiction being what it is, I didn’t. Twitter’s fault.

So, to make me feel better, I promised myself that I would recap the following season from beginning to end. Far from me the thought, when I made that foolish pledge, that Survivor would choose to bring back Rob and Russell after barely giving them enough time to gain back the weight they had lost in Heroes vs Villains. That’s one spoiler I wish I had stumbled into earlier.

So this is it, now I’m stuck recapping a season which promises to be gimmicky as hell. Fuck you Twitter.

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So here we go,

Survivor 22: Rob vs Russell Redemption Island

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Dancing with the Stars, episode “the Tea Party crashes the ballroom”

If you had told me six months ago that I would one day find myself campaigning for a Palin, I would have had you wrapped in straight jacket faster than Mama Grizzly can say “Gotcha!”

Six months later, here I am, begging you all to pick up the phone and/or get online tonight and vote your asses off for Bristol Palin to become the eleventh winner of Dancing With The Stars, and the most glaringly undeserving person ever to snatch that tacky mirror ball trinket they dare call a trophy.

I beseech you, do it.

Do it for the lulz.

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Survivor: Heroes vs Villains finale – Dear Russell Hantz, this is for you…

I could write a loooooong post about my thoughts regarding last night’s Survivor: Heroes vs Villains finale… And probably will.

But not right now because I don’t have time. It’s late and I haven’t showered or had my-middle-of-the-night snack yet.

However, before I get on with my ever-so-exciting nocturnal activities, there’s something I wanna get off my chest. So for once in my life, I’ll be concise and straight to the point, and instead of my usual thousand words (x 8000) I’ll give you, for once, an image.

An image which sums up my feelings much better than a thousand words ever could.

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My dear little Russell Hantz, this is for you:

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Congrats, Sandra!!

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Riots “R” Us

It’s Saturday night. I’m feeling blue and antsy. And bored. And still sick from Wednesday night’s mass absorption of alcohol.

But hey, it was all for a good cause. After all, the Habs, aka the Canadien, aka the CH, aka Montreal’s hockey team have won yet another round in the Stanley Cup playoffs, and that, in game 7 for the second time in a row.

Such a shame they’re not playing tonight. Because you know what I think would cheer me up and give me a nice little morale boost?

A riot.

Seriously, what better way to cheer for a winning team, to demonstrate one’s joy and excitement than by smashing a few store windows, looting a bunch of shops and attacking a couple of cops with broken beer bottles?

Of course, these kind of practices are a bit on the expensive side, but who cares about a few grand when what we get for them is a celebratory riot on Montreal’s main commercial street?

Plus, as an added bonus, once the cops have cleared the streets off all the euphoric revellers, we get the alas too rare chance of walking on broken glass for several hundreds of meters, something we all know is awesome (as long as you’re not wearing flip-flops.)

Survivor Heroes vs Villains, episode 9 recap

Howdy, avid reader. Or not. Avid, I mean.

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So, didn’t you luuurve last week’s episode? Coach getting kicked out, Russell getting kicked in the ego… It was awesome! Let’s hope for some more of that: “Fuck what Russell says, I’m voting my way!” attitude. It might finally put an end to the oh-so-repetitive “I’m the king of Survivor” speech we’ve been hearing every week for the last season and a half.

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