Ce qui est le cas, c’est que je suis en manque, et pas à peu près. En fait, je déprime un peu ce soir. J’ai beau essayer de me changer les idées avec la boîte à images dans mon salon, So You Think You Can Dance Canada n’arrive pas à la cheville du concert le plus platte auquel j’ai assisté au cours des dernières semaines.

J’ai encore la fièvre des festivals. Je suis crevée, mais je donnerais n’importe quoi pour me retrouver devant une scène plutôt que devant mon ordi en ce moment même. Fuck les pieds en compote, le foie en marmelade, les bleus partout, l’alimentation strictement limitée à n’importe quoi qu’on peut mettre entre deux tranches de pain, même si mon corps en arrache, ma tête en arrache encore bien plus.

Ma tête est encore aux Francofolies, au Festival de Jazz, voire même au festival d’été de la rue Crescent de ce week-end (dites ce que vous voulez, mais Pagliaro et David Usher, c’est peut-être pas Métallica sur les Plaines d’Abraham à Québec, mais ça bat quand même So You Think You Can Dance Canada à la télé.)

Bon, vous pouvez me dire que l’été est pas fini et que des shows, y’en aura d’autres, et vous aurez raison. Mais l’orgie de concerts que Montréal nous offre chaque début d’été, elle est finie. Et ça me fait chier. Ça me fait chier d’avoir à attendre une grosse semaine jusqu’à mon prochain concert (Motorhead et Kiss au Parc Jean-Drapeau, si les dieux de la météo sont de mon côté) plutôt qu’une demi-heure, comme ce fut le cas pendant presque 3 semaines.

Ça me fait chier de pas avoir un programme tout froissé à consulter de manière obsessive quotidiennement. Ça me fait chier de pas rentrer épuisée, mais ô combien heureuse passé minuit tous les soirs, de la musique plein la tête. Ça me fait chier d’être confortablement assise chez moi à l’air climatisé à prendre une bière bien fraîche plutôt que de me faire piler sur les pieds au milieu d’une foule sous la pluie en buvant de l’immonde Molson M à 6 piasses dans un verre en plastique et de m’en renverser la moitié dessus en dansant.

Donc, faute d’être à un concert en ce moment, j’ai décidé que la meilleure façon de lutter contre la petite déprime et la bougeotte donc je suis présentement victime, c’est de vous raconter les aventures musicales que j’ai vécues jusqu’à présent. Les bonnes, les moins bonnes, les francophones, les anglophones, les grosses, les petites. Peut-être que les revivre, ça m’aidera à faire passer le blues. Je le fais pour moi plus que pour vous, et ça risque d’être tout croche et souvent hors-sujet, ça va être parfois en français, parfois en anglais, souvent en franglais, et au diable la chronologie. Mais je ressens le besoin de les partager.

Alors mettez vos souliers les plus confortables parce qu’on va marcher et danser beaucoup. Vous êtes prêts? Oui? Alors, suivez-moi! Je sais pas encore où on va, mais y va y avoir de la musique, c’est certain!
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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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Day zero; in the sky, a camouflage-patterned helicopter is flying.

Inside, is the group of people who better provide me with decent entertainment for the next fifteen or so Wednesday nights, or I’ll trash them on T witter this blog. And of course, the ever-reliable Jeff Probst enthusiastically delivering his season premiere speech while secretly hoping it’d would be his last time doing it; with Larry King and Regis Philbin not getting any younger, cushy jobs are filling Jeff’s peripheral vision.

But being the pro that he is, Jeff does a great job at trying to make us believe that this will be Survivor’s most exciting season yet. As usual.

The camera pans over the cast’s newbies, which are all sulkily looking out the helicopter’s window. Clearly, Jeff has just told them that Rob and Russell would be joining them, and now they’re all anxiously racking their brains for ideas on how the hell to get a minimal amount of airtime, between Russell’s camera whoring ways and the Robfather’s sizzling charisma. Yes, you can say I’m biased.

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Meet Phillip, one of the people on that helicopter. Phillip is this season’s Tyrone: black dude in what looks like his late 40s. Phillip is also a former Federal Agent, whatever that is. To me, “Federal” says “government”, “agent” says “police”. Both of them combined say spy. Is Phillip a spy? If yes, that explains the “former” bit. More on that later.

Matt, this season’s Fabio, stops reminding me of Fabio the second he opens his mouth: “My faith is everything.” Oh, great. Chase in Fabio’s body. Next.

Ralph is a redhead. And a redneck. And quite promising as a character. Although I don’t have much of a clue what he says (like most Francophones, I have difficulties understanding Southern accents), I do pick out the words “crazy bastard” and “dumbass”. I like Ralph. A lot more than Matt (like most agnostics, I have difficulties understanding deeply religious folks).

One last camera shot of Jeff, sitting on the floor at the back of the helicopter, feet dangling in the air, as he bellows the now now familiar: “39 days, 18 people, one Survivor!” and we’re off to the opening credits.

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I don’t normally pay much attention to the credits, but this time, I watch them closely in order to get a vague idea of who, other than Rob and Russell (and Ralph, of course) is in this game, since most of them probably won’t get any airtime until the episode where they get voted out. Oops, sent to Redemption Island, sorry. God, I hate that twist already. Gonna force me to review and update my Survivor lexicon . Stupid Redemption Island.

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More helicopter shots, but we know we’re getting close from the final destination when Jeff suddenly grabs his baseball cap and firmly screws it on his head.

The helicopter lands, Jeff jumps off, gallantly helps the women down and shakes the guys’ hands on their way out. A black lady called Francesca says: “I saw the beach and the mats and thought, oh wow, this is really happening, I’m on Survivor!” In no way, shape, form, elocution, mannerisms or attitude, does she remind me of NaOnka or Yasmin. I’d scream for joy, but my buddy’s here and I don’t want to confirm to him that I’m crazy, although I know he already knows since the two of us were married at some point. Nothing like marriage to drive you bonkers. But that’s another story for another day.

The important point here, is that this is the first season since Tocantins where Survivor didn’t didn’t cast a stereotypical “ghetto sistah” as the token black chick. Let’s be honest, unless they make it a gimmick, like they did with Cook Islands, Survivor’s casts have always been predominantly white, with a couple of minorities thrown in there for good measure.

So it’s nice to see a well-educated, well-spoken black woman on the show for a change. Not to shit on NaOnka or Yasmin, but their edit didn’t do them any favours. If anything, it reinforced the opinion of many an ignorant twat that all black chicks are uneducated ghetto bitches. Go lurk on some Survivor message boards if you don’t believe me. They’re crawling with ignorant twats.

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Before the game starts proper kinda, we get to meet Mike, a handsome young man and an Iraq war vet, which immediately garners him brownie points, because who doesn’t like and respect a soldier, right? He adds that his army training will come in handy, which makes complete sense. I put Mike in my “Likeable” pile.

Then Jeff announces: “Welcome to Survivor!” to which the new casts responds by cheering. But Jeff, this asshole, has to immediately put a damper on their excitement: “But wait: we have two more players joining us”.

From out of nowhere, another helicopter appears. I’d like to be able to tell you that Rob and Russell, clad in Superman costumes marked with a “R” instead of a “S” suddenly jump out of it and gracefully land on the beach, but that’s not the case. The helicopter lands, the door opens and Boston Rob appears, in a regular shirt and khaki pants. No Superman costume.

I’m almost disappointed, but the newbie cast isn’t. They’re cheering for him even louder than when Jeff said “Welcome to Survivor!”

Then out comes Russell. The newbies all take a step backward. Mike the Iraq war vet lets out a “Oh, no.” Then they all take another step back, apart from a little brunette called Stephanie Waitress, who tells us right off the bat that her strategy is to be Natalie-from-Samoa, otherwise she’s gonna be out.

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Jeff says: “I think you’re all familiar with Boston Rob, who’s played 3 times, never won, only made the finals once, and yet, we keep bringing him back. Go figure. Then we have Russell, whom you may also have heard of: he’s the guy who played in two back-to-back seasons, made it to the end both times by masterminding two of the stronger alliances in Survivor history. In spite of this, both times he managed to lose. Yet, we brought him back too. We ought to get our heads examined. In the meantime, this is who you have to contend with. Be thankful we didn’t choose to bring back Sandra.

Now, those who want to be in Russell’s tribe, raise your hand!”

The newbies take three steps back. Russell angrily walks to the nearest tree, punches it in the trunk, then takes back his spot next to Rob.

“Okkkkay…” says Jeff. He turns towards the crew: “Someone call Mark.”

A girl with a headset timidly answers: “Mr Probst? We already have. Mr Burnett said: “Tell Jeff he’s an idiot. I knew damn well no one remotely sane would want to be on Russell’s tribe. OK, put a purple buff and an orange buff in a bag, present it to Russell and tell him to pick the purple buff. If he doesn’t, redo the take until he does. Then offer the bag to Rob.”

Of course, this isn’t quite what us, viewers get to see. What is presented to us is eight people with a purple buff, eight people with an orange buff, and sixteen people hoping like fuck Russell will not pick their colour. Ultimately, eight people are disappointed and I would almost feel for them if only I cared. But it’s too early for that. So far, I only care for Ralph, Francesca and Boston Rob.

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Time for the Survivor veterans to hook up with their new tribe: Boston Rob is groped as if he was Justin Bieber in the midst of a group of Beliebers in heat. As for Russell, he gets the same welcome Michael Vick would if he turned up at PETA’s headquarters clad in mink from head to toe.

As both tribes are gathering their supplies and getting ready to head to their camp, Jeff interrupts them: “Oh, one more thing. There’s another twist.”

The newbies all look up, scanning the sky in search of another helicopter carrying Sandra, Richard hatch, or who knows, both.

Jeff reassures them: “Oh, no, we didn’t bring back anyone else, just these two losers. But since we would really like to see at least one of them making it far, we’ve tweaked the game a bit: from now on, whoever gets voted out won’t go home, but instead, to Exil… erm, sorry, old habits, I meant Redemption Island.

Redemption Island is the shithole where the booted one will live (or not, we’ll see, we’ve never done this twist before) until the next player gets voted out of the main game. Reject #2 will then head to Redemption Island where he or she will dual against reject #1. Winner gets to spend 3 more days fighting to keep their sanity on Redemption Island. Loser has to swim back to America.

Obviously, we’ll keep that twist going until the unavoidable Rob vs Russell dual. And for the record, we don’t give a shit which of them wins, as long as the ratings are good. After that epic battle, we’ll put an end to the Redemption Island twist and reintroduce either Rob or Russell into the game. Everyone’s cool with that?”

The noobs are stunned, Matt falls to his knees and starts praying, frantically crossing himself. Rob and Russell burst out laughing.

In confessional, Russell says: “Redemption Island doesn’t scare me one bit… blah blah blah… heads will fall.” The “blah blah blah” bit is a mish-mash of all of Russell’s past Survivor monologues, which, despite being numerous and long-winded, essentially boil down to: “I’m the best at everything everywhere and everyone else is a stupid asshole.”

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Jeff puts his hands on his hips: “You guys ready to get started with this game?”

Rob’s tribe: “YEAH!”

Francesca: “Well, erm… I… Are you guys filming the next season here in Nicaragua too? Because, I just thought, hey, 23 is my lucky number, that’s the season I should be on! So I’ll just go sit in that corner over there and wait until you guys are done filming this s…”

Jeff: “Shut up. Here are the maps to your camps. Omo-something and Zapa-something-else are your tribes’ names. Learn them, love them.”

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Jeff throws the maps at the shittiest catcher of each tribe. One hits Stephanie Waitress in the head. She bends down to pick it up and that’s when I see she’s wearing high heel shoes.

I roll my eyes so hard I hear them hit my skull.

Seriously, why the fuck would one wear high heel shoes on Survivor??

I assume Stephanie Waitress mustn’t have seen Survivor: Pearl Island. If she had, she would know better than wearing club footwear on Survivor. And just to be fair, Dan and his $1600 shoes from last season were equally moronic. In fact, Dan and his shoes are a big reason why I so regret not having recapped last season. I would have had a blast with him and Fabio. Oh, well. Something else I’ll have to live with.

OK, where was I? Oh, yeah, Rob, Russell, and the others. Before each tribe starts heading for camp, Jeff gives them some reassuring news: “Oh, BTW, I hope you all brought umbrellas as your luxury item, ‘cos’ it’s gonna rain like a motherfucker while you’re here. Enjoy your stay!”

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While the tribes are seen heading for their respective camps, Francesca confesses in voice-over: “What the hell just happened? Not sure how to process that Redemption Island stuff… Or that Rob and Russell stuff, for that matter… This complicates further a situation that was already complicated. I mean, what will it take to get rid of these two? Not only are they on what seems like every other season, but now, voting them out only gets them out of the picture, but not out of the game! This is bull… I had a feeling I should have waited until season 23 to apply…”

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The Zaporit… Zarpet… Screw this, let’s pretend we’re from NaOnka’s hood, South Central LA, and call ‘em the Purples for now, alright? So the Purples are looking for their camp. Two seconds later, they find it. Remember the days when tribes had to trek for 10 miles with a map, a compass and truckloads of supplies to carry? Well, those days are gone.

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Oh, no. Guess what we begin this new season with? A Russell monologue. I hate you Mark Burnett. I really hate you.

Russell: The second ah arrived at camp, ah was really grateful to be back to get my title of Sole Survivor. The first two times, ah was a schoolboy. but this one, ah’m bringin’ it. Ah…

Rebel Without A Clue: Mr Burnett? I beseech you, can you just please give him the damn title now, then send him home? Hell, give him two if you must! You’ve already given him a dozen HIIs (Hidden Immunity Idols) anyway, so what’s a silly title? Plus I believe he owes you one, what with all this spoiling business… Then bring in Shane from Exile Island to fill the missing quota of crazy and manic. He’s good TV too, he deserves another shot.

Russell: Ah ain’t going nowhere, and ah didn’t spoil nuthin’, and who’s Shane, and you’re an idiot and so is he, so shut up.

Mark Burnett: Spoilers? What spoilers? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Shut up. Just ignore her, Russell… So, you were saying, this one you’re bringing it…

Russell: That’s right. Ah’m bringing it. This is gawnna be the noo me.

RWAC: GET OUT… Noo, erm, new you? You’re actually gawnna… gonna do something different this time?

Russell: This time, ah’m gawnna be a leader for mah tribe.

RWAC: ??? !!! … … ?

Russell: Yep. Watch me.

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While I’m watching, stunned, Russell gathers his tribe to give them a speech, which I’ll translate in normal English for you:

“Hello, my name is Russell and I will be your guide for the next 39 days – hopefully. You will suffer horribly over the course of this adventure, and not necessarily always because of me.”

Just as he says that, as predicted by Jeff, it starts raining.

Russell: “What did I just tell you? And that’s just the beginning.

However, there are good news: this season, I’ve eliminated sabotage from my strategy, as it’s come to my attention that it rubbed many people the wrong way during my last two seasons. So that means, you can now all trust me blindly, as I’m a changed man who’s only here to mind his own business and win. So welcome to Nicaragua and enjoy your stay!”

The Purple newbies cheer gloomily.

Russell: Oh, come on! What’s with the long faces? I promised I wouldn’t screw you over, so have a little faith, for fuck’s sake!”

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Let’s meet a new player, shall we? I’m struggling to work out whether David Defense Attorney is smart or not. He did show up on Survivor in a suit, which is at almost the same level of dumb as Stephanie Waitress and her high heel shoes. However, his confessional reveals he has Russell perfectly figured out: “Anyone who thinks they can trust Russell is batshit crazy. He’s played twice and made it to the finals both times. And both times he lost because he made the conscious decision to play like a psychopath on a rampage. Totally not buying his “changed man” BS.”

Meanwhile, at Purple camp, a truck marked “Craftsman” pulls over, delivers a big box of construction gear, like nails and shit, and then drives off. Ralph is over the moon. He runs to the box, grabs it, hugs it, then explains how he can’t wait to start working on the shelter as his favourite hobby happens to be building cabins. At least, that’s what I think he said. Not sure though. As I told you, me and Southern accents, not great.

However, I’m getting the feeling that Ralph is trying to hide from Russell the fact that he’s taking charge of the shelter building. Not that Russell gives a shit about that mind you. Quite the opposite in fact. Russell is thrilled that the guys are playing with nails and hammers. Less people on his ass while he’s sniffing around for HIIs (Hidden Immunity Idols).

Ralph and Mike Iraq War Vet appear to be bonding around the toolbox. When Ralph takes off his Tshirt, Mike giggles: “That’s the most impressive man sweater I’ve ever seen!” Indeed it does appear that nature has been uncommonly generous with Ralph on the body hair front. But the remark is funny though. I move Mike from my “likable” pile to my “like” pile.

The Purples seem to be working very well together. Obviously, Russell is nowhere to be seen. I wonder if he has found that idol yet.

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All of a sudden, we’re at Omo-whatever-the-orange-tribe’s-name-is. The Oranges.

It’s raining there too. I’m SO never going to Nicaragua for a vacation. I used to live in London, England and it was sunnier than this.

Logically, Boston Rob is in charge of the shelter building, which makes total sense since once upon a time in a faraway galaxy called Survivor: Marquesas , he was Boston Rob Construction Worker.

Matt the Christian Fabio is visibly star-struck by Rob: “He’s like the Messiah of Survivor, which is awesome. And he has experience in construction, which is also awesome. It’s like, wow! Man, I have to talk to him! Maybe even get an autograph!”

He shyly walks to Rob and asks: “I… You… Errr… Ah… You…’re from Boston, aren’t you?”

Rob: “I think so, but I’m not sure anymore. After four Survivors and two Amazing Races, you become a bit confused when it comes to locations. But I have the accent, so probably.”

Rob smiles at Matt and turns around to come face to face with two young girls holding on to one another while giggling. “Hi Rob!”, says one, batting her eyelashes. “Yeah, hi Rob”, says the other, “You can ask us anything.” “Yeah, anything at all” adds the first. Then they giggle again.

Rob smiles, nods, and walks off. The girls freak out: “OMG! We talked to Boston Rob! And he smiled at us! This is so cool! I so wish I had my Blackberry, I’d like, totally tweet this! And then I’d “like” it on Facebook! OMG!”

Natalie Professional Dancer confesses: “I’m SO happy we’re on Boston Rob’s tribe. He’s amazing. It’s so comforting to be around him. One of the best things about him is that he’s not Russell. If Russell was here, we would all be on edge because he’s nuts.”

I see Natalie too has done her homework. At least enough to know that Russell is crazy. Good for her. Plus I love dancers. They work really hard, you know? I put Natalie in my “likable” pile.

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While we were getting acquainted with Natalie, Philip Former Federal Agent appears to have taken over at camp. He is bossing everyone around, and Francesca doesn’t seem to take too kindly to him: “So far, he’s the most annoying person out here.”

Rebel Without A Clue: Girl, have you met Russell?

Francesca: Girl, have you met Phillip?

RWAC: Good point.

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Francesca isn’t the only person miffed by Phillip’s bossy ways. A blonde called Andrea Student explains that she grew up on a farm and therefore knows how to handle a bloody axe, Phillip, OK? She adds that he’s probably just likes to play the father role, so whatever, fuck him and let him do it.

All of a sudden, Phillip calls a meeting: “Everybody, gather round.”

A flock of females surround him. Where are all the guys? And more important, who are all the guys? So far, there’s Phillip, Boston Rob and Fabio Matt. Are there any others?

Anyway, Phillip doesn’t give a fuck who’s there as long as they’re listening to him.

Phillip: I used to be a Federal Agent.

The women: …

Phillip: That means that when I give you my word, I give you my word. Yeah?

Francesca: Yeah what?

Phillip: Yeah as in you can trust me like, 110%. At least.

Francesca: But you used to be a Federal Agent. You no longer are.

Phillip: Yeah, but I still was. You weren’t. So I win. And also, I’m an expert at analyzing people’s behaviour because that’s what us Federal Agents do.

Francesca: Did.

Phillip: Whatever, same thing. All I have to do is look at someone for a few seconds and I can immediately determine some of their characteristics, like gender, race, age… Us, Federal Agents are very skilled at this sort of thing.

Francesca: Former Federal Agent…

Phillip: Don’t listen to her. So my Former Federal Agent superpowers will come in super-handy because once we get to the other side, I’ll be able to read these people like children books, as long as they’re written in English. So yeah?

The women: …

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Phillip, picking up on the fact that his Former Federal Agent status doesn’t seem to do it for the ladies, decides to try a different angle to get their approval: “I also have seven sisters at home. I love women.”

That seems to work better as he manages to get a couple of hugs out of it; Francesca even begrudgingly offers him her cheek to kiss.

But in confessional, Francesca reveals that she’s very unimpressed by Phillip Former Federal Agent: “So that’s his big secret? That he’s former Former Federal Agent? But who cares? It’s not as if he was a famous football coach with two Superbowl wins under his belt or anything. Seriously, this season keeps sucking more with each passing minute… Although I have to admit that Phillip is quite hilarious in his delusional ways. But still, shoulda waited for next season…”

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Back at camp, a woman in jeans and a red top is going through what looks like a basket full of fabrics. How many bloody supplies are they given this season, for God’s sake? What’s next, delivery sushi for supper? When did “Survivor” stop being about “surviving”?

Anyway, the woman in question, Kristina Law Student isn’t looking for needles and thread, no siree. Kristina is looking for a HII. Or a clue for one. Who needs a shelter when you’re only gonna be here for 39 days, right? Shelters are for pussies. As twice demonstrated by Russell, all that one needs to last on Survivor are HIIs. So Kristina immediately starts looking for one.

Boston Rob, who’s been around this block three times before, knows better: “Have you found it?”

Kristina: Found what?

Boston Rob: Bitch, please. I’ve been around this block three times before. I know what you’re looking for. Have you found it?

Kristina: No.

Boston Rob: Talk to the hand then. And keep looking. I’ll keep the others away.

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As soon as Rob has disappeared, Kristina goes facepalm: “How in heaven did he guess I was looking for a clue? What gave it away? My subtle toppling over of both the toolbox and basket of fabrics, or my careful examination of each individual item they contained? Beats me. I want this idol real bad, but I would hate for Rob or anyone else to suspect I’m trying to win this game or anything… Damn…”

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While Kristina is busy diggin holes all over on the beach and kicking random trees in the hopes an idol will fall off one of them, the others are enthusiastically building the shelter. The young girls are particularly thrilled about their tribe: “Dude, our tribe, man… The bomb!”

Rob notes: “There are a lot of girls on this tribe. Shame this wasn’t the case back in my Marquesas days, when I was single and as horny as a rabbit. I probably would have fucked every single one of them then. But since I am now a married man and a father, I guess my only use for them is for an alliance. Damn you Survivor and your terrible timing.”

Phillip overhears this. “You’re gonna ally with the girls? But that’s my strategy.”

Rob: Says who?

Phillip: Says me, after I heard you say it first. But I’d like to ally with you too.

Rob: I… Erm… Well, yeah, sure, of course, me too, like, totally.

Phillip: I’m serious.

Rob: I’m sure you are. But let’s talk about this later, shall we?

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And this is pretty much the point where this first episode of season 22 takes a sharp turn towards Loonyville.

It starts with a mostly nonsensical confessional by Phillip: “The thing about this game is that everyone becomes super-paranoid. Well, everyone but me. I’m a shepherd. We don’t get paranoid. And if we do, we…”

RWAC: Shepherd? But I thought you were a former Former Federal Agent?

Phillip: The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know? And who the hell are you anyway? Are you interested in an alliance?

RWAC: Oh, I’m not on the show. I merely just watch it, then proceed to make fun of y’all on my shitty blog.

Phillip: That shouldn’t stop us from having an alliance, you know? Like, you could let me in on the dirt the others are dishing about me behind my back, what their plans are… Things like that…

RWAC: That’s not an alliance, Phillip, that’s snitching. And it’s also cheating.

Phillip: Well, that’s not exactly how I, as a former Former Federal Agent, would put it, but…

RWAC: The only way I would be interested in your proposal, Phillip, was if it could guarantee Russell being off my TV like, two seasons ago. And he’s not even on your tribe. And if he was, there’s still that pesky Redemption Island twist which may prevent him from going home anyway. So really, you’re of no use to me Phillip.

Phillip: What if I acted like such an idiot that I’d out-asshole Russell and take away all his airtime?

RWAC: Hmmm… Say more…

Phillip: What needs to be said? Look at the facts: we’re 15 minutes into the first episode, and I’ve already had twice the airtime of Rob and Russell combined.

RWAC: You have a point. But that may also mean you’re getting voted off first.

Phillip: Francesca also got a fair amount of airtime… Could be her too…

RWAC: Damn. Good answers. Maybe you are a Former Federal Agent after all. OK, I’ll give you a bone: Rob has an oestrogen-filled fanclub who are eating out of his hand. It might well be an army of robots with him in possession of the remote control. Kristina, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be very good at making friends, and neither do you. You’d make a great couple. You should go find her. She’s out somewhere, looking for an id… erm, alliance. Go after her, and try avoiding the beach, there are holes everywhere.

Phillip: Oh, thank you very much! And now watch me bring on the crazy!

RWAC: Good luck! Don’t disappoint me!

Phillip: Trust me, I won’t!

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Five seconds later.

Phillip: Hi Kristina! Remember me, Phillip the Former Federal Agent? How are you? Want an alliance?

Kristina: I, erm, well, I… Oh, what the heck, nobody wants anything to do with me anyway, so why not! Deal!

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Let’s now teleport ourselves to the Purple tribe where Russell is…

RWAC: Phillip, you liar, you said you wouldn’t let Russell back on my TV ever again!! Phillip, where are you? PHILLIIIIIIIIPPPPP!!!

Phillip doesn’t answer, so here I am, stuck with fucking Russell grinning on my screen.

Oh, wait. I’ve seen this scene before. This is the bit where Russell is walking in the woods, pretty young girl in tow, brainwashing her into allying with him and promising her that he’ll take her to the finals where she will unavoidably beat him because he is a psycho and she isn’t.

This time, the lucky girl is Stephanie Waitress. Congratulations Stephanie, you’ve just won Survivor: Redemption Island!! You wanted to be Natalie-from-Samoa, and now you are! Well played, you had me completely fooled! I was persuaded you were a moron when I saw you in those stupid high heels shoes!

I won’t bother narrating what Stephanie calls the “prom date” scene, as this is the third time we’ve seen it in the last four seasons. Just rewatch the first episode of Samoa or HvsV, find the scene where Russell approaches Natalie/Parvati, and you’ll be wondering if you’re not watching the same footage with Stephanie CGIed into it.

There is one difference though: this time, Russell only promises the merge instead of the final 3. But then, he’s a changed man, remember?

.

When they come back from their romantic walk, Russell and Stephanie are attached at the hip. Well, symbolically. Physically, they’re acting as if they weren’t even aware of one another’s existence.

However, unlike the Oranges, this tribe isn’t made of Russell groupies. The Purples have clearly watched the last few seasons of Survivor and seem considerably more savvy about Russell than Boston Rob’s fanclub is of the guy who earned the nickname of the Robfather . Just saying.

When the new couple comes back to camp, it is met by some suspicious glances. David Defense Attorney and a nameless brunette in particular, appear quite spooked by Russell’s presence. “We have to get Russell out of this game immediately”, nervously says the brunette.

RWAC: I agree. For both your sake and mine.

Mike Iraq War Vet believes otherwise: I don’t think Russell’s a threat.

David Defense Attorney: You don’t?? Oh, come on man! Haven’t you seen at least 5 minutes of season 19 or 20? That should suffice to tell you that Russell is a snake, but a very predictable one. He allies with a pretty young girl right off the bat, promises her final 3, keeps his promise, loses, the end. And the thing is, I’m not a pretty young girl and neither are you. But Stephanie is and he already his hooks in her. He must be dealt with.

Mike: Yeah. You’re right. I agree with everything you just said.

Mike then proceeds to say that David seems to be like a nice, smart guy who was absolutely spot-on in his assessment of Russell. Is it just me or is Mike Iraq War Vet a tad influenceable?

However, Mike ends his confessional with: “The task at hand is to get Russell gone ASAP.” I immediately forgive him for his passing flakiness and the Chase flashback it occasioned.

.

Day 3. Omopettept… Orange tribe. I will learn their name soon, I promise.

It’s morning. The Oranges are yawning and stretching their asses out of the shelter. Oh, look, there’s another guy on this tribe! A yet nameless handsome young man who made the unfortunate choice of growing his hair into dreadlocks. Unfortunately, dreadlocks vary in quality, and his are the stringy uneven kind. Shame. This further confirms my belief that very few white boys are blessed with Jason Castro’s perfect locks .

The second Boston Rob is standing on his feet, the young girls flock to him with “Mornin’ Rob! *giggle*” and start arranging his hair and picking the sleep shit out of his eyes. While no one’s watching, Kristina discreetly slips away, and walks through the woods until she reaches a large clearing. She proudly explains:

“This area used to be wooded. But with the shovel supplied by Craftsman, I singlehandedly dug out each tree, examined each of its branches in case it contained an idol, then lifted it away from the area using the crane supplied by Craftsman, then carried it out of the island using a helicopter supplied by maybe Craftsman but I’m not sure. The point being that I intend to find that HII no matter what, and I am prepared to deforest this whole island if I have to. I hate trees anyway.”

RWAC: Hold it, lady! I like trees. You have to stop the madness and quit destroying this beautiful vegetation. It’s torture to the Al Gore groupie in me. Tell you what, I’ll give you a clue, and you leave those trees alone. Deal?

Kristina: I don’t know who the hell you are, but deal.

RWAC: Landmarks.

Kristina: What?

RWAC: Landmarks. Look for them. Then look at them.

Kristina? What land… Oh. Duh. Of course. Landmarks. What an idiot I am.

.

Kristina runs off into the woods, rummages through the rocks piled at the bottom of a tree, pulls out an idol, then runs back to the clearing, waving it at me.

Kristina: I got it! Thanks, I owe you one!

RWAC: No problem. Just leave these trees alone, k?

Kristina: Promise! Hey, while you’re here, would you do me another favour and get rid of Rob?

RWAC: He’s my favourite player, why the hell would I do that?

Kristina: Oh, I like him, he’s a nice guy, but he’s dangerous. And he’s also already allied with everyone but me and the crazy dude with the Former Federal Agent fixation. I have a bad feeling.

RWAC: Well, you’ll have to keep it, cos I can’t help. Gotta go. Don’t touch the trees.

.

Kristina sighs, heads back into the woods, finds a hiding place for her idol, then happily skips her way to camp, whistling Queen’s “We are the champions”.

“I’ll probably tell someone I have an idol”, she says, “I just haven’t decided whom yet.”

Francesca and Phillip come a runnin’: “Me, me!”

Kristina: You what?

Phillip: I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Who are you voting for?

Kristina: I want to take Rob out. Right now. With this here shovel. Where is he?

Phillip: Whoa, there! As a Former Federal Agent, I have the obligation to ask you where you think you’re going with this shovel.

Kristina: I’m gonna go get Rob for good. If I don’t, even if he gets voted out of both this island and Redemption Island, he’ll be back next season anyway. This is the only way to get rid of him for good. And the same treatment will apply to Russell if he lives to make the merge.

Phillip: But that’s… homicide!

Kristina: Yeah, but this is “Survivor”, isn’t it?

Francesca: I think homicide is a great idea. Unfortunately, Boston Rob isn’t available right now, he’s taken his fanclub for an educative walk on the beach. While we’re waiting for him, we should practice our homicidal skills on, say… Phillip.

Phillip: You can’t. I’m a Former Federal Agent. One of the job’s perks is an invincibility cloak which we get to keep even if we get fir… retire. You’ll have to get rid of me the old-fashioned way, by voting me out.

Francesca: Noted. Can’t wait.

Phillip: What did you say?

Francesca: I said that I can’t wait to vote you out.

Phillip: I do have that effect on women, yeah. But that was a rude thing to say out loud, especially to a Former Federal Agent.

Kristina: I was thi…

Phillip: Don’t interrupt, it’s rude.

Kristina: But…

Phillip: Ssshhh…

Francesca: But she…

Phillip: I said, SSSHHHH.

Francesca: Screw that invincibility cloak, I like a challenge: homicide it is. Ready Kristina?

Phillip: You can’t; the three of us are in an alliance.

Francesca? We are?

Kristina gloomily nods.

Francesca: Shit.

Kristina: Indeed.

Francesca: I need a drink.

Kristina: Me too. But I’ve looked at all the supplies very closely, and we ain’t got any booze.

Francesca: I SO knew I should have waited until season 23…

.

Kidding aside, Francesca’s confessional about being stuck in an alliance with Phillip is full of lulz. I get a Cirie flashback. Then I put Francesca in my “Favourites” pile.

.

Time for our first challenge. The contestants take place on their respective mats. Jeff is standing in front on them, texting frantically from a Blackberry, grumbling: “Stupid buttons are way too small on this thing. Can’t believe I forgot my iPhone in… Oh, hi guys! I’ll be with you in a sec’, just need to send that last tweet and… is there a hashtag for “Redemption Island” yet?”

Mark Burnett: Jeff, you can’t live tweet the actual taping, sorry. Give me that thing.

Jeff: But…

Mark Burnett: Give me it, I said.

Mark Burnett snatches the Blackberry off Jeff’s hands and walks off angrily. Jeff lets out an embarrassed little giggle, clears his throat, then starts explaining the challenge, which consists in both tribes having to push four large blocks along some some tracks. These blocks will form a staircase leading them to a series of ropes which one of them will have to chop with an axe, which will release another staircase, at the top of which a block puzzle will be waiting for them.

As soon as I hear the word “puzzle”, I immediately think this one’s in Boston Rob’s pocket, as he can rock a puzzle like a motherfucker. Unfortunately, I discounted the first part of the challenge, the one relying on pure brute strength.

So on one side, we have Rob and his fangirls whom, all combined, must weigh about the same as Rupert. On the other side, we have redneck Ralph, army Mike and Russell, whom we already know is very good at pushing things and people around. This might not bode well for the Oranges after all, puzzle genius or not.

Jeff informs the Survivors they’re playing for immunity and flint.

Flint? Really? After all the Craftsman product placement, I’m surprised Survivor didn’t approach Zippo for a sponsorship.

Anyway. Survivors ready?? GO!!!

.

And they do.

The brutes from the Purple tribe push their first block into place just like that. The Oranges don’t. The first blurred ass of the season runs by.

The Purples push their third block past the Oranges who are struggling with their second. I think we all know where this is going. And it does. The Purples, whose actual name is Zapatera, smoke the Oranges whose name I haven’t quite made out yet but, small steps.

Redneck Ralph axes the Purple ropes in the blink of an eye, opening the way to the Purple puzzle for his tribe. Meanwhile, the Oranges are still sweating buckets behind their blocks.

.

Breaking news: the Orange tribe is Ometepe. Now back to out regular programming.

.

Breaking news: Ometepe has finished assembling its staircase.

.

Breaking news: Jesus appears on an episode of Survivor to give Christian Matt a speed bonus in axing the ropes to the Orange puzzle, and Ometepe finally climbs the final staircase.

Jeff: Ometepe has a GREAT puzzle maker in Rob. Is Rob strong enough to single-handedly bring his entire tribe back from the dead? Stay tuned!

Rob: Thanks for the pressure, brother. I can’t wait to take over your job as host of Survivor, motherfucker.

Jeff: Yeah, like I’ll care when I’ll be getting paid a fortune to make small talk with Kelly Ripa an hour a day in a warm comfy studio on Live with Jeff and Kelly. Hope you’ll have fun hosting endurance challenges in the pouring rain, asshole. Furthermore, don’t forget that your alledgedly taking over my current position is only a rumour. You shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet, Rob.

Rob: Fuck you.

Jeff: Fuck you too.

Ometepe: Erm, Rob, sorry to interrupt, but we’re kind of behind here… Think you could give us a hand with the challenge?

Rob: I’ll deal with you later, Probst. Sorry about that, guys… Ok, so that piece over there goes here. Now grab that other one there…

Ometepe makes up quite a bit of time, but unfortunately, too little too late, Texas wins and Boston has to vote someone out. Who may not even go home. I agree with Francesca, this season blows chunks.

.

Jeff hands Zapatera the very fugly 22nd II (Immunity Idol), some flint and sends them on their merry way. He then turns to Ometepe: “Alright you bunch of losers, TC (Tribal Council) for you tonight, where one of you will be voted “out” of this game. Note the quotation marks here. Unlike previous seasons where people simply got voted out, you’re the lucky ones who get voted “out”. Well, some of you are. Basically, Rob and Russell, as we don’t really give a flying fuck about the rest of you. The only reason you’ve been cast is to provide our two cash cows with people to vote for. You have until tonight to figure out who will be the first. So long suckers, see ya at Tribal.”

.

The camera is showing Ometepe grimly dragging their feet towards their camp, when Russell suddenly jumps in the shot: “We’re smarter than they are, we’re faster than they are, we’re stronger than they are. And by “we”, I mean “I”. I was kidding about being a changed man. I know exactly what Boston Rob is thinking, and right now, he’s thinking: “Oh, crap!” MWAHAHAHA!!” On that, Russell vanishes as abruptly as he appeared.

.

Over at Ometepe, we finally get to meet a new cast member, a young blonde chick responding to the name of Ashley Nurse: “So we lost the first challenge, which totally sucks. And worse, we let down Boston Rob, which sucks even more totally as we’re relying on him for… well, everything. I mean, if he gets annoyed at us, he might decide to leave us to our own devices, and that would be terrible, as it would force us to do our own thinking. Sorry y’all, but I didn’t come on Survivor to give my brain a workout, I came here because I thought Fabio’s suntan looked terrific after last season, and since we have similar complexions, I…”

Bored out of his wits, the soundman recording Ashley’s confessional turns off the microphone and walks off. She sighs, runs her fingers through her hair, giggles, then checks under her bikini straps for tan lines before heading to the beach for a swim with the other youngins.

.

While everyone is splashing around, Kristina spots Francesca amusing herself by making faces at Phillip behind his back. “Come with me, I wanna talk to you.”

Francesca follows her to the beach where Kristina confesses: “I have a HII.”

Francesca: The fuck you do! Get out!

Kristina: I shit you not.

Francesca: How did you get it?

Kristina: It fell on my head while I was resting against a tree.

Francesca: I don’t buy it.

Kristina: OK, I found it.

Francesca: Where?

Kristina: At the bottom of a tree.

Francesca: How did you know it was there?

Kristina: I went online to see if Russell hadn’t posted any spoilers on HIIs locations, and luckily, he had.

Francesca: Wow, I had no idea he could spoil a season before it actually takes place… Impressive. He’s good.

Kristina: I know, it’s crazy, innit? He also has spoilers for the next season of Grey’s Anatomy. Izzie comes back, but as a man. Anyway, I was thinking, I don’t trust Rob’s groupies, so I reckon we should lure them into voting for me; then you, me and Mr. Delusional over there all vote for Rob. Then I pull the idol and boom, this whole game turns.

.

In confessional, Francesca explains that she is thrilled about the news, but unsure whether Kristina is targeting the right person: “Of course it would be awesome to blindside Boston Rob. It would feel really good in the moment, but the thing is, he is a very strong competitor and we need him right now. What do you think? Yo, you, there!”

RWAC: Who? Me?

Francesca: Uhuh.

RWAC: Makes complete sense to me.

Francesca: Are you just saying that because you’re fantarding over Rob and don’t want him to go?

RWAC: Yeah, a bit, but also because it does make sense. No, really, no shit.

Francesca: Alright then. Where’s Kristina? I need to knock some sense into her. She’s hellbent on getting Rob’s ass out of here.

.

Francesca finds Kristina in the tribe’s shelter, going through Rob’s bag while throwing furtive glances around her.

Francesca: What are you doing?

Kristina: I’m going through Rob’s stuff.

Francesca: But why?

Kristina: Well, it occurred to me that this is Boston Rob’s fourth time on this show. Who’s to say he’s not in possession of an II (Immunity Idol) from a previous season? Never thought about that, huh?

Francesca: But, Krist…

Kristina: I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. While the HII rules do state it has to be played prior to the final 4, they don’t say of which season…! See?

Francesca: …

Kristina: Anyway, if he does have one, it’s either on him or hidden somewhere, cos’ I can’t find it.

Francesca: Or maybe, you can’t find it cos’ there isn’t one, you f’n fruitcake! Geez, and I thought Phillip was the crazy one. Seriously Kristina, this is insane… Now leave people’s property alone and listen to me for a second. We lost today because unlike the other tribe, ours isn’t stacked with brutes. We need to keep our strong members, and a) Rob’s one of them; b) Natalie isn’t. We should vote for her. That way we keep our strong and Rob loses a groupie.

Kristina: I… Pfff… Why did you have to make so much sense? I so wanted to vote for Rob… Still do… Let me think about this, OK?

.

Francesca leaves her alone. Kristina paces back and forth like a caged animal: “Voting for Rob would so much fun… So much fun…”

Rob happens to walk by: “You talkin’ to me?”

Kristina: Me? No? Nononono!!! How are you? Nice day, isn’t it? Who are you voting for tonight?

Rob: I don’t know. You?

Kristina: I don’t either.

Rob: OK, see you later!

Kristina: Ta!

.

33 minutes in to the show, we finally get our first Robfather confessional. What the fuck, Survivor? That diminutive spoiling snitch Russell gets one 3 minutes into the show, and my Boston boy has to wait half an hour for his? Favouritism much?

Rob explains: “Originally, I was gonna vote for Francesca, because she’s done her homework and watched the Survivor seasons I was on. That’s smaht. However, she did vomit when Russell and I stepped out of the helicopter. She also called us “troublemakers” and said I was sneaky. She knows my game. She’s bad news.

However, Kristina has been acting like a friggin’ sniffer dog in an airport since she got here. She’s looking for that idol a little too hard for my liking. I’m not comfortable around folks who don’t wrap themselves around my little finger the second they lay eye on me. I think this chick may well be trying to play her own game. And I don’t like playing Survivor against people like that. It’s more fun when it’s just me and a bunch of sheep who do everything I tell them to, like in the first All-Stahs.”

.

After his confessional, Boston Rob gathers his minions around him: “Kids, it’s class time! I Hope you all brought journals as your luxury item as I’d like you to take notes.”

Matt: I… didn’t. I brought a Bible. Prayer was gonna be my strategy.

Rob: That’s cute. Now, not to knock down your goofy plan, but this is my fourth shot at this, so I can tell you from experience that the best strategy with this game is actual strategy. As in, thinking . Or, if you can’t do that, just ask me and I’ll do the thinking for you. Relying on me worked out well for several people. Like my wife, for instance.

Now, on to today’s lesson: how to spot someone looking for a HII. Raise your hand if you think you know.

Matt: They’re not praying a lot! Or at all!

Rob: *Sigh* No. Anyone else?

*Crickets*

Rob: *Sigh* OK, remember when we first got the supplies, how Kristina immediately started to look through them?

A blonde girl’s eyes slowly widen: “OMG. I think I got it… She was… looking for a HII?”

Rob: Almost! She was actually looking for a clue, but it’s close enough that I’ll give you a blue ribbon as soon as I find one. Well done young lady! Now, when someone looks for HII or a clue, something may happen. What?”

Matt: They say a prayer to thank God for His help in finding it?

Rob: Matt, you do know they cast atheists on this show, right? Let me rephrase it for you: what may happen when an atheist looks for a clue or a HII?

Matt: They find it?

Rob: YESSS! See, you can think! Bravo! Now…

Matt: Oh, Lord! That means… she may have it?

Rob: Exactly. You’re quite good at this thinking business… But don’t get too good… Uncle Rob doesn’t like competition. Back to the idol, we don’t know for sure if she has it, but in case she does, there’s something we can do, a technique called: “Splitting the votes”, since I believe she’s in with the crazy Columbo guy and what’s-her-name. Now if you would take out your notepads and write this down, please…

Blonde girl #1: Why do we need to write it down? Just tell us who to vote for and we will. It’s not that complicated.

Rob: I thought so too until I met Tyson two seasons ago.

Blonde girl #1: Good point, I forgot about him.

Rob: If only I could too. Why do you think I came back for a fourth round of what is essentially a camping trip in hell?

Matt: Hell’s like this? Wow, I better pray my ass off, cos’ spending 39 days here is one thing, but eternity is another. O Bible, where art thou?

Rob: You’ll pray in Redemption Island. Apparently, you’re headed there next week.

Matt: I am?

Rob: That’s what Russell told me on the helicopter. You’ll have to ask him, he’s the spoiler king, not me. Anyway, I say, half of us vote for Francine and the other half for Christy.

Blonde #2: You mean Francesca and Kristina?

Rob: Is that their names? Wow, maybe I should take notes too. Now I’ll always be wondering if Tyson didn’t screw me over because I told him to vote for the wrong person. Damn. Anyway, everyone’s good with the plan?

Everyone: Yes, Rob!

Rob: Excellent. Now scram and go study your notes.

.

Elsewhere, Phillip is giving a speech: “When you’re in this hyper state of arousal…” The camera pans out slowly, revealing that Phillip does NOT have his hands in his pants as I almost expected him to when I heard him say that. However, just the fact that the thought crossed my mind makes me feel like I need to soak myself in a tub of bleach for a few hours.

Phillip: Oi. I heard that. I didn’t mean it in a sexual way, you pervert.

RWAC: In that case, “arousal” was a pretty poor choice of words.

Phillip: What I meant by that was that Survivor puts you through a physical and emotional wringer and that things flare up sometimes.

RWAC: See, if only what you actually say could make as much sense as what you mean to say, you might have more allies and they might not hate your guts like Francine and Christy here.

Francesca: Who are Francine and Christy?

RWAC: Blogger humour. Nevermind.

Phillip: I don’t get it. Anyway, Kristina, I will vote your way as long as you tell me who you’re voting for and if I don’t like it, I’ll do my best to try and change your mind as I’m not sure how smart you are, whereas I’m a Former Federal Agent and you’re not. And by that, I don’t mean to insult you, because far from me the idea that only Former Federal Agents are…

Kristina: Come with me.

Phillip: But I haven’t finished my speech…! I was saying…

Kristina: Shove your speech up you know where with your hyper state of arousal and follow me.

.

Kristina drags Phillip to the fallen tree under which she buried her idol. She digs it out and puts it in Phillip’s hand. “You know what his means?”

Phillip: No.

Kristina: Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s a HII. They literally grow on trees on the seasons Russell’s on. Anyway, I found one, which means we can vote for who the heck we wants, and by that, I mean we can vote for who the heck I want. Get it?

Phillip: Most of it. I don’t get the part where we don’t vote for who the heck I want though. That part put a damper on my state of arousal, as I like to be the decider guy, even when my decidering is wrong, which it rarely is since Former Federal Agents…

Kristina: I give up. Do what the fuck you want.

.

In confessional, Kristina is a nervous wreck: “Phillip is a frustration wrapped in an annoyance coated with tediousness. I was shitting myself about telling him I had the idol, and now that I have told him, the shitting has turned into full-blown diarrhea. With him, you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t. If I hadn’t said anything, God knows what he would have done. Now that I have, God knows what he will do. Fuck. I need a hug.”

.

Elsewhere, Phillip is explaining to a hapless cameraman whom I hope, already had lunch as he may be here for a while, that although he still hasn’t decided who he’ll vote for, he knows who he won’t: “Former Federal Agent Phillip Sheppard!” he quips with a wink. He pursues: “While it might not be in the tribe’s best interest to vote for Rob, he does have something any Former Federal Agent would covet: the position of leader. Former Federal Agents don’t play second fiddle. Especially me. So good bye Rob.”

.

Time to head to TC. I don’t have the slightest clue what’s gonna happen. As a matter of fact, I’m still trying to make sense of what went down so far. This episode should have been two hours long methink, as there was way too much information and new people and nonsensical Phillip speeches thrown at me in too short a time. At this point, I just feel lost and dizzy.

During Jeff’s “Fire is life” speech, I quickly pour myself a shot of Canadian Club in the hopes it’ll help me make some sense out of this Nicaraguan hot mess. Turns out my drink wasn’t stiff enough to prepare me for the most ridiculous first TC ever. And I thought last season’s Tribals were crazy…

.

Jeff: Rob, tell me what happened when you arrived at camp.

Rob: Right to work. Phillip set the tone, everybody’s pitchin’ in, and we got a pretty good shelter built the first night.

Jeff: Phillip, did you naturally assume the leadership role?

Phillip: Me? Leadership? Whatcha talking about? All I did was step in whenever I thought something needed to be done.

Francesca falls backwards off her seat. “Are you OK? What happened?” Jeff asks.

Francesca: I’m sorry, I rolled my eyes so hard when I heard this, I lost my balance. I’m fine. At least for now…

Jeff: So Matt, would you say Phillip is the leader around camp?

Matt: More like a tyrant really. If you’re doing something counter-productive, he’ll call you out on it. And if you’re doing something productive, he’ll call you out for not doing it properly. There’s no winning with this guy.

Francesca: Damn right. He’s a pain.

Matt: Big time.

Jeff: So I’m assuming you two are voting for Phillip?

Francesca: You’re assuming wrong, Jeff. As much as I’d personally like to, I recognize the importance of keeping our tribe strong. And Phillip might be as dumb as a box of Craftsman tools, but he is strong. We do need people to lug around wood and stuff like that. So because of it, I will be voting for a woman tonight. A young petite girl, with long dark hair, whose name starts with a “N”, to be precise.

.

Kristina is wiggling restlessly on her seat.

Jeff: What’s up? You look uncomfortable.

Kristina: Jeff… Are there Depends in our medical supplies? If this keeps up, I may need some badly. I had no idea paranoia could have such an effect on one’s digestive system. Anyway, to answer your question, yes, I am uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, both physically and mentally. I know I may very well go home tonight and to make sure everybody knows I know, I brought my bag with me. See? All my stuff’s here. I…

Jeff: Whoa, whoa, calm down, it’s just a game… Jesus… Anyone wants to take the pressure off poor neurotic Kristina and pretend they feel a pang of fear about tonight’s vote? How about you, Rob? It is your fourth time here after all, you may feel like you have a target on your back.

Rob: I should, but I don’t. These guys love me. Especially the girls. And on that topic, if you could tell them to stop treating me like I’m the 2nd coming of Justin Bieber, I’d appreciate it. Every morning when I wake up, I find them waiting for me outside the shelter, and as soon as I’m up, they start following me around like stalkers. Even when I’m taking a crap, I can hear them giggling behind the bushes. I thought it was cute the first day, but it’s getting old already, and we still have 36 days of this to go. Or so I hope.

Jeff: Fuck you Rob. You tell them yourself. I would host this show for 20 more seasons if it meant I too would have bikini-clad girls half my age scratching at my door. Hell, even Regis has more groupies than me, and he doesn’t have to sleep in a trailer 3 months a year so that he can host a show full of smelly people like you lot.

OK, where was I? Oh yeah. The new twist, Redemption Island. Thoughts? Anyone?

RWAC: I hate it.

Jeff: Anyone on the actual show, I mean.

RWAC: Oops, sorry.

Francesca: Actually, I agree with the blogger, I’m not a fan either. It’s pretty obvious you created this twist to prevent your precious Survivor pets to go home too early.

Jeff: Survivor? Pets? Never. We hate animals.

Francesca: Don’t shit me, Probst, everyone knows you have a dog. Anyway, to finish my point on Redemption Island, I’ll give you that it adds another level of complexity to the game. Like say, if Rob got voted out, which we know won’t happen, but let’s say he does, well, knowing him, he’d probably be fine on Redemption Island, and chances are he would end up reentering the game.

Phillip: Beg pardon?

Francesca: I said, if Rob got voted out…

Phillip: I heard you the first time.

Francesca: So why did you ask me to repeat?

Phillip: To interrupt you, because I feel a speech coming on. Jeff, can you tell Francesca I have an issue with what she just said?

Jeff: She’s sitting 2 feet away from you, Phillip. Tell her yourself. I’m taking 5.

Phillip: I don’t want to talk to her.

Jeff: Why not?

Phillip: I don’t like black people.

Francesca: But…

Phillip: This isn’t my real colour. Before undergoing the necessary procedures to become a Former Federal Agent, I used to be a Filipino female. That’s why I chose to name myself Phillip, actually.

Jeff: Wh…

Francesca: H…

The rest of Ometepe: Huh?

America: WTF?

Canada: Eh?

Phillip: Yeah. I also wanted to say that Francesca and Kristina told me to cast my vote for Rob.

Francesca: Whaaaaat the fuck have you been smoking, buddy? You are out of it.

Kristina: He is.

Phillip: Excuse me, my speech, it isn’t over. You don’t get to interrupt me because I didn’t int…

Francesca: Up yours, dude, I’ll interrupt you if I want to. Kristina, did I tell you..

Phillip: Excuse me!

Francesca: … to vote for Rob?

Phillip: Excuse me!

Kristina: You did…

Phillip: Excuse me!

Kristina: … not.

Phillip: Excuse me!

Kris: You know what, Francesca? Do what you want; I’m changing my vote to Phillip.

Francesca: Sounds good to me. I’m with ya.

Phillip: Excuse me!

Jeff: Oh, for Christ’s sake, yes, Phillip, what is it?

Phillip: Excuse me!

Jeff: YES, WHAT???!

Phillip: Well, Jeff, I happen to be a Former Federal Agent…

.

That’s all we get to hear of Phillip’s oration, as the entire tribe bursts out laughing. Jeff dares not join them for fear of looking unprofessional, but he can’t help chuckling. Phillip, completely oblivious of the hilarity he’s provoking, stoically continues to deliver his pompous bullshit about honesty, sinking ships and such crap.

Eventually, the others manage to get a hold of themselves, and as they’re wiping tears of laughter off their cheeks, Phillip solemnly concludes his soliloquy with a dramatic: “And that is why tonight, I am voting for Francesqwa.”

Francesca: Ca. FrancesCa.

Phillip: Yeah, her.

Kristina: I… have to say something… I’m aware that I’m naturally paranoid, but I’m a bit concerned…

Jeff: Kristina, you can stop worrying about that. We already gave instructions, your Depends will be waiting for you when you get back to camp tonight. If you do get back.

Kristina: No, that’s not it. I was talking about Phillip.

Jeff: What about him?

Phillip: Yeah, what about me? Got a problem with me, lady?

Kristina: I… Nevermind.

Jeff: No, no, tell us.

Kristina: I’m afraid Phillip may be a bit…

Francesca: Crazy?

Kristina: I was going to say unstable, but…

Phillip: Kristina has an Immunity Idol.

Jeff: Huh?

The rest of Ometepe: What?

America: WTF?

Canada: Eh?

Francesca: What an asshole!

Kristina: Seriously.

Jeff: Is it true, Kristina? Do you have an idol?

Kristina: I do.

Phillip: See? Told you!

.

Jeff scans the faces of the Survivors not part of this dysfunctional little trio: expressions of surprise plastered on each one of them. “Did you guys know about this?” Everyone shakes their head. Phillip grins.

Rob frowns: “So what is this about? You three were plotting to vote me out without telling me about it? Using idols I didn’t know about? That’s not very nice, you know? I’m not happy with you right now.”

Francesca: No, not at all, we weren’t. Were we, Kristina?

Kristina: Well, we were, but…

Francesca punches her in the arm: Shut up!

Kristina: Ouch! But we changed our minds and decided to vote for Natalie instead.

Natalie: Me?

Phillip: Her? That is not at all what Fkwansekwa told me.

Francesca: Francesca.

Phillip: Yeah, that. Sorry. I suffer from dry-throatitis, a condition which makes it very hard for me to pronounce these stupid typical black people names.

RWAC: I thought Francesca was a Latin name…

Jeff: You, back off. Things are crazy enough as it is, I really don’t need you and your snarky comments on top of this mayhem.

RWAC: Ok, ok, fine, I’ll go… No need to be so damn rude…

Jeff: I’m sorry. I’m a bit on edge, but seriously, in my place, wouldn’t you be?

RWAC: I do admit this is quite a lively first TC.

Jeff: Lively? These people are nuts! Anyway, I better get back in there before it gets any uglier. But I’ll see you on Twitter!

RWAC: You recognize me from Twitter?

Jeff: Course I do! You send me about 50 tweets a week!

RWAC: So why don’t you ever respond?

Jeff: Because if I did, you might stop. And since it doesn’t look like I’ll ever have chicks in bikini scratching at my door, I have to settle for Twitter stalkers. So keep sending me those smartassy tweets. Who knows, maybe I’ll retweet you one day! Ta!

.

While Jeff and I were bantering, TC has turned into the View: everyone is yelling at everyone else and no one is listening. Jeff climbs on his seat and screams at the top of his lungs: “EVERYONE, STFU!!!”

After his third attempt and the help of security, the Survivors take their seats back, bodies tense, faces still red with anger.

Jeff: Ok. Where were we? Listening to Phillip, probably. Phillip, any comment?

Phillip: Yes, I do.

Francesca: Colour me surprised…

Phillip: First thing, I am not unstable or crazy, but perfectly rational. And second thing, Rob, you heard them: they were plotting against you. That’s all.

Jeff: That’s all?

Phillip: That’s all.

Jeff: Wow, that was brief and to the point. Didn’t expect that from you. Rob, what do you have to say to that?

Rob: I’m not pleased, quite frankly. There are three untrustworthy people on my tribe: Phillip, who’s adamant about his story; Francesca, who’s adamant Phillip’s full of shit; and Kristina who’s not adamant at all. And one of them has an idol.

Jeff: So whatcha gonna do about it?

Rob: Jeff, this is an excellent question. I think I’m gonna randomly pick one of them and bully them into giving me their idol. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, Kristina, you’re It. Gimme your idol.

Kristina: Bbbb… but it’s mine!

Rob: I know! That’s why I want it!

Kristina: But I found it!

Rob: If you don’t give it to me, I’ll vote you out.

Kristina: But this is blackmail!

Rob: Welcome to Survivor! So, are you gonna give me the idol or not?

Kristina: I can’t. I deforested the entire Western part of this island looking for that idol. I slept two hours in three days. I just… I can’t, I’m sorry.

Rob: Fine, keep it. But remember that an idol can only protect you for three days. I, baby, can protect you for life. Just ask Amber.

Kristina: Are you proposing to me?

rob: It wasn’t my intention, but if I do, will you give me that idol?

Kristina: Polygamy is illegal in the States, Rob, so, no.

Jeff: Are you guys done? As entertaining as this is, if it goes on any longer, we’re gonna have to pay the crew overtime. I’d rather we put that money to better use, like for instance, scouting for locations outside of Nicaragua for a change. This is my second season here; I’m sick of it. So if everyone’s ready, we’ll get to the vote.

.

Andrea votes. Another blonde votes. It’s Rob’s turn. He writes Francesca’s name down, shows his parchment to the camera and grins: “One down, 16 more to go! It’s so much fun playing against you amateurs. It’s like taking candy from a baby. So long, Francesca, thanks for the memories!”

Matt and Kristina vote. Natalie’s vote is for Kristina: “You might make it through this TC but not the next one.”

RWAC: So why in heaven are you voting for her then?

Jeff: Didn’t I tell you to bugger off already?

RWAC: Yes, from the TC area, but you never said anything about the voting booth.

Jeff: GET OUT!

RWAC: Jesus, a bit testy, aren’t we?

Jeff: Out, or I’m telling Russell to moon you next week.

RWAC: That’d be hilarious.

Jeff: Doesn’t Courtney Yates follow you on Twitter?

RWAC: Yeah, she does! Isn’t it awesome? I love her, she’s great.

Jeff: Then I’ll ask her to block you and report you for spam.

RWAC: But…

Jeff: You know that Blackberry Mark Burnett conficasted from me earlier on? I got it back. It’s in my pocket. I’ll do it right now.

RWAC: Fine, fine. I’m leaving. You’re an asshole, Probst.

Jeff: Right back at you, “Rebel”.

RWAC: Hmmmpf.

.

While I’m sulking in front of my computer, the voting has gone on. The last one to go is Francesca, who, as expected, votes for Phillip: “I wasn’t gonna vote for you or Rob, but your crazy outburst has spared Natalie. I hope to never see you again.”

I’m dying to ask: “What about the reunion show?” but Jeff throws me a glare which is so loaded with daggers and Tasers and other weapons that it’s probably safer not to.

.

Jeff brings the urn containing the votes and asks if anyone has an II they’d like to play. All eyes turn to Kristina, who’s holding the idol in her hand.

Jeff: Kristina?

Kristina: Jeff?

Jeff: I asked if anyone had an…

Kristina: I heard you.

Jeff: So?

Kristina: So, nothing. I’m keeping it.

Jeff: You’re insane.

Kristina: I thought so too until I met these folks. We’ll see later about outwit, outplay and outlast, but one sure thing is that I’ve been outcrazied several times tonight. After witnessing all this madness, I’m feeling a lot more confident than I did earlier.

Jeff: Up to you! OK, I’ll read the votes. 1st vote, Kristina. 2nd vote, Kristina. 3rd, Francesca. 4th, Francesca. 5th, Phillip. 6th, Phillip. We are tied. 7th, Kristina. 8th, Francesca. 9th, Frcktwajssk… What the hell? Who is that supposed to be? Who the fuck wrote this?

Phillip: Can I see… Oh, that’s me. I can’t even pronounce her name, let alone write it.

Jeff: So you voted for Francesca then?

Phillip: And Kristina too. I voted for both.

Jeff: Both? But you c…

Phillip: I have dry-throatitis, I told you. It impairs my pronunciation, spelling and judgment. You pick one, Jeff.

Jeff: But I…

Rob: I’ll pick one! I vote for Kristina!

Jeff: I… fine. The tribe has spoken. Or not, I’m not sure. Whatever. Kristina, bring me your torch.

.

A sad-looking Kristina grabs her bag and torch, but as she’s dragging her feet towards Jeff, Francesca jumps up, whispers something in his ear, and the three of them have an animated discussion which we unfortunately can’t hear because they’re talking too low. At the end, Kristina looks at Francesca and asks: “Are you sure?” Francesca nods.

Jeff clears his throat: The tribe has spoken some more. Francesca, bring me your torch.

Rob: No Jeff, it’s “Kristina , bring me your torch.”

Jeff: Not anymore. There have been some last minute changes. We hadn’t anticipated Phillip to be so… you know… Someone in the screening department is SOOO getting canned over this… Anyway, Francesca has offered to take Kristina’s place and go to Redemption Island, so…

Francesca: So that I can get away from Phillip. If I stay around him, I swear I’ll hurt him. Jeff, can I go now, please?

Jeff: I… Sure. Yeah. Go. Bye bye. Enjoy Redemption Island. The tribe has spoken. A LOT. Too much. I need a drink. Good night guys.

.

On that, Jeff walks out. The 8 remaining members of Ometepe all look around at one another for a while, puzzled. Then they pick up their stuff and head back to camp.

.

.

Next week on Survivor: Ralph has a fight with Russell; Phillip has a fight with a crab; Francesca has a fight with… noone yet, as she’ll be alone on Redemption Island until the next person gets voted out. Poor Francesca. I hope she brought crosswords puzzles as her luxury item.

.

In the final shots, Francesca is seen arriving at Redemption Island. She finds her little camp in the dark, drops down to the ground, puts her head on her knees and sighs: “God… WHY didn’t I wait one more season before applying…One. More. Season…”

.

Then Criminal Minds starts.

~~~~~~~~

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OK, if any of you guys made it to the end of this recap, I commend you. I didn’t think I would. I see my recapping skills are somewhat rusty. The good thing is, since I’m already two weeks late, I have two more recaps to practice on. But before I get to them, I want to make a quick PSA: if you’re a blogger, don’t sign up for an account on Twitter. That is all. Good night.

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. .

If you enjoyed this shit, please tell your friends. And your enemies too.

.

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.

.

Unless you live under a rock (not that there’s anything wrong with that) you must have a vague idea of what DWTS (Dancing With The Stars) is or at least be aware of its existence.

But I won’t take any chances; in case you DO live under a rock, I’ll give you a quick rundown of the premise of this bullcrap show which has the nerve to call itself a “dancing competition.”

Ever heard of a bullcrap show which has the nerve to call itself a “singing competition” named American Idol?

Well, it’s basically the same thing. DWTS is American Idol, with more movement, less clothing and no Simon Cowell – although it does have its own pompous British judge, only less evil and not quite as obscenely wealthy.

Both shows started off as mindless but harmless family entertainment, but all thanks to media attention and incomprehensibly high ratings, turned into bloated attention-whoring, controversy-seeking monsters.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Most popular shows end up victims of their own success – I believe the accurate jargon is “jump the shark” – but when you choose to let America have a say on what’s gonna happen on your bloated show, well, sometimes, you end up with one helluva spicy shark.

.

Isn’t it fun to feel like your voice is heard? Like you have an influence on something?

If you answered “Yes” to that question, I bloody hope you get off your ass and vote on election day. Or dayS (I live in Quebec, we go to the polls every 3 weeks here. Or so it seems.)

But for the days when there’s no corrupt politician to elect into a position which will allow him or her or rip us off bigger and better, “competitive” reality TV’s there to fulfill our voting needs.

Idol and DWTS thought it’d be super-duper fun to let the viewing audience have a say in who stays and who goes on their travesty of a “competition”.

Not that they’re the only ones, mind you. So You Think You Can Dance and America’s Got Talent do it too. But it has yet to bite them in the ass. Unless it has and I wasn’t paying attention. But if it did bite them, there was no blood drawn. I would have known about it if there was. I’m on Twitter, dude. Us, the people of Twitter know about shit even BEFORE it happens. It’s that fast. Suck it, Facebook.

.

You guys remember Sanjaya ? Kid from Idol who sucked balls, yet stuck around way longer than kids who could sing about a bazillion times better than him?

Well, THAT’s what happens when you let the viewing audience influence the elimination process, you greedy television networks executive assholes. Things like Sanjaya happens.

And why do they happen? Because that beloved viewing audience of yours, the one you thought it’d be so much fun to let participate, well, they VOTE. And sometimes, they vote for Sanjaya. A lot.

So when you, Idol, whine that Sanjaya has overstayed his welcome and shoulda been booted 3 weeks ago, you only have yourself to blame. If he was that bad, you shouldn’t have let him into the top 12 in the first place. And if you don’t like America voting for him, well fuck you. Letting people vote was your idea, remember? Don’t blame them if they ain’t got no taste, yo. Who do you think watches this show, musical experts? Professional musicians? Recording industry bigwigs?

Probably a few do. But for each Mariah Carey or Clive Davis who watches the show, you have hundreds of thousands of rabid soccer mums with a hard-on for David Cook while their teenage daughters drool over pictures of David Archuleta.

I’m sorry, season 7 of Idol is a big part of my life. I shall get back on topic now.

.

Actually, I didn’t veer that much off-topic, since just about everything I wrote about Idol applies to DWTS.

But with a few nuances.

For instance, Idol didn’t really know what hit them when people started voting in droves for Sanjaya. I think they put him through to the top 12 because they wanted a cute kid with a decent voice who would make the wittle girls cweam theiw panties and vote their asses off for him. So they picked the one who had the best hair. Unfortunately for them, little did they know they would end up with this:

Madness ensued, Vote For The Worst blossomed into the most impressive trolling operation I’ve ever witnessed and Sanjaya strutted his way to the top 7, when he was unfortunately cut. Needless to say, the show got a lot more boring from then on.

.

But whereas Idol had no idea Sanjaya would turn into a monster which would then turn against them, causing them to lose whatever credibility they had as a genuine singing competition, DWTS knew damn well that casting Bristol Palin = controversy.

I mean, have you met her mother??!

If you haven’t, look her up. Sarah Palin . She’s a blast. And also crazy. As well as armed and quite possibly dangerous. I think we should try to appease her by letting her daughter win a stupid dancing show.

.

I’ll be honest, the reason why I chose to check out DWTS this season is Bristol Palin. (And the… ahem… Situation.)

However, the sole reason why I’m still watching it is Bristol Palin.

.

I’ve never been a fan of DWTS. Not that the concept is bad, but it’s always irked me that they call it a “dancing competition”. That’s bollocks. So You Think You Can Dance , that’s a dancing competition.

DWTS is essentially a variety show with a dancing theme, featuring an assortment of has-beens and wannabes with the odd genuine star thrown in there to justify the show’s name.

If I’m wrong, I’d love another example of a dancing competition where a 76 years old actress like say, Florence Henderson, has to go up against a 50 years old actress who has appeared in a film called Dirty DANCING.

Speaking of Jennifer Grey, she looks terrific and she’s a great dancer. And that’s my problem with her: I consider her a dancer. It’s obvious. Same goes for Brandy. Look at them. Pointed toes and all. I’m an ex-ballerina, man, I can spot this stuff from miles away. These two chicks have tons of dancing experience. What chance does Flo Henderson, who’s old enough to be their mother, has against these two in a fucking DANCING competition, huh?

Seriously. Dancing competition, my ass.

.

Back to Bristol, you’d think that DWTS would have figured out this simple equation:

Sarah Palin’s daughter

+

Phones/internet

+

America can vote

+

America can vote

÷

Tea Party

=

Things will get political somehow

.

And they did.

Boy, did they.

.

I bet that somewhere, Sanjaya is green with jealousy.

.

I don’t know if like me, you spend too much time on the internet and frequent places like message boards, but if you don’t and are in need of a giggle, I suggest you do. People are going apeshit on there at the moment.

You have the delusionals who actually buy the “dancing competition” crap that DWTS throws at them, and who are all indignant about Bristol beating Brandy to the finals because Brandy’s “so much better”.

To those, well, newsflash: Brandy’s an experienced performer with an obvious solid dancing background. Bristol’s a teenage mum with a megalomaniac demented mother who stumbled into the international spotlight two years ago.

Still wondering why Brandy’s a better dancer?

.

Then you have the rabid Tea Partiers who are only there to get the liberals all riled up and post shit like: “HAHA PALIN HATERS LIBERALS IT MUST HURT NOW LOL!!1″

.

Then you have the liberals who don’t want to come across as complete haters while still dying to take a shot at a Palin. These take the passive-agressive approach and ask subversive question like: “Is Bristol the first contestant ever to GAIN weight on DWTS?”

.

And you guys, I live for shit like that. Totally cracks me up. As I said, I spend too much time on the internet. A Bristol win would make the time I waste on there SOOOO much more entertaining than say, a Jennifer Grey win. Imagine the headlines: “Jennifer Grey, star of Dirty DANCING, wins DWTS!!!!”

Now, think of the Bristol headlines: “Unwed teenage mother and abstinence advocate daughter of Republican VP candidate, Sarah “drill baby drill” “I can see Russia from my house” “gotcha!” Palin wins DWTS. Did the Tea Party cheat the voting system? Is Sarah Palin using her daughter to advance her political agenda?”

Now tell me, which article would you rather read on Wednesday?

.

Think about this: a Bristol win will definitely generate many a lulz-worthy conspiracy theory. Given the pretty grim headlines we’re constantly submitted to these days, I think we deserve a laugh or two.

.

Furthermore, if a Palin is to win a title in America, wouldn’t you prefer it to be Bristol a stupid mirror ball, rather than her mother the presidency? Wouldn’t that be better for everyone?

.

.

So that’s it, I’m done. I think I’ve pleaded this oh-so-very-worthy cause as well as I could. If this hasn’t convinced you of why you should vote for Baby Grizzly over the graceful but horrifically boring, previously dance-trained Jennifer Grey, you may be one of those well-intentioned but gullible folks who actually believe DWTS is a genuine dancing competition. In which case you’re a lost cause and I give up on you.

.

So I’m throwing a last-minute desperate plea to the cynics out there and ask them to please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top, pick up the phone, get online and vote for Bristol tonight. You’re allowed 5 votes per phone and 5 per email address. Make good use of them. Give this travesty of a dancing competition the winner it deserves: one that is as devoid of dancing talent as the show is devoid of credibility. They’re a match made in heaven.

Make your voice heard, America. And Canada too, of course, eh.

.

.

Best of luck to you, Bristol. I hope you win this shitty trophy. If you don’t, I’m crossing my fingers that it goes to Kyle, who has been a delight all season and unlike Jennifer “yawn” Grey, didn’t have me dozing off everytime he appeared on my TV screen.

.

I would also like to thank the Tea Party for fucking around with the voting system and bringing Bristol into the finals. I’ll go back to hating you lot with all my might on Wednesday, no matter the outcome. Until then, we’re allies, whether you like or not.

.

On a final note, you don’t have to watch the show to vote. I’ll be spamming every social network known to man with the phone number and link to vote for our favourite abstinence activist.

You can vote by phone (toll-free number) during tonight’s live show; the lines open at 8pm (Eastern time) and will stay open for 30 minutes after the show ends. Get your phone votes in early as the lines will only be open for a couple of hours tonight.

Online voting opens at 8pm Eastern tonight; you have until tomorrow 11am Eastern to send in your votes (5 votes per email address).

.

DWTS clearly wanted to create controversy when they cast Bristol Palin; they got what they wanted. But now that it’s blown up in their face, they’re whining because they’re stuck with her. Let’s make sure the joke’s on them: help me and the Tea Party make Bristol Palin the eleventh and least deserving ever winner of DWTS and VOTE!!!

.

Thanks in advance, and go Bristol!

.

PS: In the event that our girl does win, please do not shoot your television; it will likely get you arrested and will definitely make you the butt of all of DWTS’ viewers, no matter what contestant they’re rooting for.

.

.

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.

.

My dear little Russell Hantz, this is for you:

.

.

Congrats, Sandra!!

.

.

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.)

.

Personally, I enjoy a riot as much as the next guy, even though I’m not a guy. And to hell with taxpayers’ money. We can always make more taxpayers. I bet that after Wednesday night’s riot, quite a few of the celebrants who didn’t get arrested promptly made their way to the nearest park for a quickie after throwing one last bottle of Molson Ex at the riot police, thus getting to work in creating a new generation of taxpayers whom will hopefully pay for our current fuck-ups.

After all, what’s better than really bad outdoors sex with a drunken hooligan?

Other than a riot, of course?

.

Well, I don’t know what is. As I mentioned earlier on, all I did to celebrate Wednesday night’s victory was drink too much. Disappointingly unoriginal, I know. And extremely painful the following day.

In fact, on Thursday morning, as I was hugging my toilet bowl, I was thinking: “Damn, look at your pathetic self. You wouldn’t be in this state right now, had you gone to the riot instead of spending the night in a bar high-fiving who may or may not have been complete strangers between two shots of Jameson. And had you been at the right place at the right time, you might even have been able to get your hands on a shiny new pair of Reeboks, or whatever the hell brand of shoes the sports store which got looted sells. Or sold, rather.”

But no. Like the gutless conformist that I am, I opted for getting shitfaced in the bar where I work with people whom I know. Can you get anymore depressingly unimaginative than that? Didn’t think so either.

And meanwhile, tens of thousands of blissful hockey fans were having the time of their life joyfully destroying other people’s property.

And I, for the second time in two years I missed all of it.

.

And now, I find myself wondering if I’m gonna get another chance this year to throw a brick through the store window of Le Château and score myself a nice dress for free.

.

Because ya see, the problem is that for every group of people who are having innocent fun, albeit a tad on the destructive side, you have a group of buzzkills who are trying to rain, or in the the present case, pepper-spray on their parade.

For instance, don’t think I haven’t noticed that pesky helicopter circling above my hood before, during and after every home game. I know perfectly well that it’s not there to track down and silence the annoying students from the nearby university, even though I wish it was.

After inquiring about said helicopter on Twitter, I was told that its sole purpose was to snitch to police on the Habs fans’ post-game whereabouts and whatabouts in the case of a win for Montreal. I personally find it to be a little over-the-top invasive, as far as chaperons go, but of course, it’s only my opinion.

Plus, I’d like to remind those who call Montreal hockey fans “rioters”, “hooligans”, “crazy assholes” and such that we don’t just riot for no reason. And first, we don’t call it it “rioting” over here, we call it “celebrating.”

But really, other than the somewhat illegal St Jean-Baptiste bonfire on the mountain every summer and the yearly protest against police brutality, both of which always seems to attract the riot police, hockey really is our only other motive to “celebrate” when you think about it. And then, with hockey, it’s only during the playoffs and in case of win at home.

.

Sorry, what’s that you say?

That Wednesday’s riot happened in spite of the Habs not even playing in Montreal?

Well, it is true indeed, but there may be a good reason for that. Let me venture a theory…

Call me crazy, but maybe, just maybe, Wednesday’s riot wouldn’t have occurred hadn’t some greedy bastard in a suit decided to rent out a couple of giant screen TVs, plop them in the middle of the Bell Centre and charge $7.50 to fans interested in watching the game in an arena and paying $10 for a beer, instead of cramming themselves in an admission-free boring old bar with moderate booze prices.

Let’s go on a whim here and assume for a minute that I’m opposed to riots and determined to avoid them at all costs. Well, if that was the case, the last thing I would have done was to broadcast the game at the Bell Centre.

Why? Because the Bell Centre, which is conveniently situated only a few blocks away from the corners of “24/7 Party” Street and “Trashcans Ablaze” Avenue, can house over 21 000 people. That’s the equivalent of a small – and slightly sloshed and over-excited – town suddenly let loose in the streets of Montreal, already crowded by all the cheap losers who opted to watch the game in a downtown bar.

Before you know it, the olde Ste Catherine Street is invaded by tens of thousands of happy merrymakers whose arrival is cheered by a friendly welcome committee made of riot cops. I mean, can you think of anything that says “Party time!!!” better than a group of men in black equipped with sticks, helmets, and shields?

Well, believe it or not, it seems that a fair few people find the presence of the riot police somewhat hostile. And even crazier, apparently, some of those people aren’t even rioters themselves! How fucked up is that?!

Yet, I’ve heard several anti-riot crazies claim that the ever-so-slightly stark appearance of the riot cops may be perceived as antagonistic by some and that perhaps, posting more innocuous and cheerful looking police officers on Ste-Catherine that night might have been a preferable choice.

Personally, I don’t really know what to answer to that, although I have noticed in several occasions that where there is a riot police squad, there is also almost always trouble. Coincidence? Who knows.

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In fact, I’m blathering on and on, but when I think about it, I’m probably the least qualified person to talk about riots since the last one I was in was after the Habs won the Stanley Cup in 1993, and my presence there was purely accidental; at the time, I lived only a few blocks away from the Forum, old home of the Habs, and I just happened to get stuck in the post-game parade on my way back home after work.

I was also fresh off a plane coming from France and didn’t have the slightest clue what exactly it was that everyone was so fervently celebrating. All I remember was getting a little paranoid when, after marching down the street for about ten minutes with all the happy campers, I saw a guy smashing a store window with a beer bottle.

I’m plenty aware that there is more than one method to do things, but personally, I find that the best way to enter a store is by walking through a good old-fashioned door. Simpler, quieter, cheaper and just as efficient. But hey, that’s just me.

So after I saw the store window collapse, I had an impulse to get out of the crowd and make my way home through an alternate route, which is exactly what I did. Once there, I parked my ass in a comfortable armchair in front of the television and watched a show called “Breaking News” which just happened to be broadcasting part of the festivities. And it sure did look like everyone was having one hell of a blast.

A blast with a price tag of $10.000.000.

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Far from me the idea of wanting to spoil the fun of a swarm of frenzied hockey fans, but I must admit that all things considered, 10 million bucks is an awful lot of money for a party. Hell, even a single million is quite onerous for what is essentially a BYOB kind of event.

Also, while I was doing research on Montreal’s hockey riots past and present, I came upon a few discussions regarding Wednesday night’s post-game bash, and to my surprise, a lot of people weren’t overly impressed by our turbulent, if enthusiastic behaviour.

Of course, the majority of these whiny folks just happened to be disgruntled fans of loser teams with a chip on their shoulder and a stick up their ass, but among them were a few unexpectedly embarrassed Montrealers, who were writing comments such as: “It’s giving Habs fans a bad name” and “It projects a negative image of Montreal” and so on.

Seeing that I’ve spent a sizable chunk of my life in Montreal, I guess I have become somewhat immune to riots. Just off the top of my head, I can recall no less than two three five in the past two years. But I’m including the yearlies (the police brutality and St-Jean-Baptiste riots).

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So yeah, I’ll give it to you that maybe, we are a teeny weeny bit prone to violence when we’re either happy or pissed off about something.

And that maybe, it was indeed a little silly to destroy a chunk of our city over a hockey game which took place in Pittsburgh.

And that maybe, we should stop indulging in these rather useless quarter-finals and semi-finals riots, which kinda do make us come across as thuggish morons instead of passionate fans.

And that maybe, “Riot City” isn’t the best nickname Montreal could wish for.

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However, I will stand by my theory that having an extra 21.000 hockey fans downtown Montreal when the team is playing game 7 on the road was a really. Fucking. Stupid. Idea. Whoever came up with that stroke of genius deserves to be thrown at the hooligans during our next riot.

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Speaking of which, when will be our next riot? If/when the Habs get to the finals? Win the Stanley Cup? Make it the the finals but don’t win the Cup? Bets are open.

Maybe there’ll even be one after tomorrow evening’s game, who knows.

Speaking of which GO HABS GO!

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And on these wise words, I’m out of here. See you at a riot near you!

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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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Day 21. Villains’ camp. Night. Bugs and rats crawling everywhere. Eww.

Jerri looks haggard: “Dude… I have no clue what the fuck just happened… I never thought Coach was gonna get voted out… Yo, Rebel Without A Clue, you’ve seen the show, can you tell me what just hit me and why?”

Rebel Without A Clue is busy typing her recap and does not reply. Worried, Jerri goes to Danielle: “I’m not next am I?”

Danielle: You? Oh, no, not at all. You have my word, I’m not writing your name down… for at a least three days… Hihihi! Nah, I’m just kidding. I didn’t tell you about voting out Coach because you’re such a little Russell whore that you would have spilled the beans to him in a second. And we didn’t want that. But calm down. You’re not next.

A hyperventilating Jerri interviews: Coach was actually the only person in my alliance I didn’t help vote out. God, do I suck at this game or what…? And speaking of sucking, I think I’ll just stick with this alliance whom I don’t trust and of which I am at the bottom, and just hope for the best.”

After that speech, Jerri sits quietly for a while. Then suddenly, she gets up and runs away like a spooked rabbit.

Two seconds later, she reaches Russell, puts both her hands on his shoulders and, completely out of breath, pants: “I… I am not… next, am I?”

Russell’s all, “no way, Jose” then in confessional, says that he’s delighted to be on a tribe with five women, because not unlike Hugh Hefner, he loves to surround himself with pretty things. And also, because women are dumb and thus, easy to control.

But mostly, because it’ll keep the morons from the Heroes’ tribe believing that the Villains have a women’s alliance and are picking off one by one everyone who owns a pair of testicles. He then adds that he trusts 60% of the women from his little harem. The remaining 40% being of course Courtney and Sandra. He assures us that they’re next, because he’s the king and calls he the shots and blah-blah-blah. I need a pee. BRB.

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Day 22. Villains’ camp. Day. Pretty clouds in the sky and cute wittle birdies signing in the trees. Camp looks much more pleasant now than it did on night 21.

“Tree mail!” chirps Parvati as she comes back to camp with a parchment in her hand. She isn’t done unfolding it that the other Villains all jump up at once, screaming:

“WE’RE MERGING!!! Quick, let’s dismantle the camp and take everything with us including a couple of trees!”

Parvati: Whoa… WHOA! Everyone, freeze. Wouldn’t you like to hear what it says before we end up carrying for miles an 18-wheeler’s worth of stuff, only to have to carry it back?

The Villains blush and sit back down. Sandra giggles awkwardly. So does Danielle.

Parvati throws them a dirty look, then looks down at the message: “Wow, it’s really long…” She turns it over, and it is, indeed, pretty long. Almost as long as my Survivor recaps.

The Villains are all like: “No shit, it is fucking long…”

Parvati: So? Does anyone want to read it?

Jerri: Do we really have to?

Courtney: I don’t care. I’m know I’m going home next anyway.

Sandra: I’m the same as you, only one week later. Fist bump, sister!

Russell: I can’t read words. Only number$.

Danielle: Fine. I’ll read it.

As soon as she’s done, they all stare at her with a blank look in their eyes.

Russell: Huh?

Courtney: What was that about?

Sandra: I didn’t get it either.

Parvati: Well, that was a waste of time… Let’s just go back to camp and take it easy until the challenge. And once there, we’ll just wing it. Today’s my 100th day on Survivor overall, counting my other two seasons, so the odds I’ve already done this challenge are pretty good. If not, one of you may have. I’m feeling this, you guys.

(Note from the recapper: I made a mistake, this day wasn’t Parvati’s 100th, but 98th or 99th day. Who gives a shit anyway. But still, I wanted to rectify, just in case a crazed fan stops by here and gives me shit for posting inaccuracies.)

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On the Heroes’ tribe, things go a little differently. First, each Hero reads the tree mail out loud while the others are taking notes with a pen and a pad of paper (items which will only make their appearance later on in the actual TV show, but which I happen to need right now for my recap. Artistic licence, it’s called.)

Then after 45 minutes of equations and comparing notes, they come to the conclusion that they probably will lose this challenge.

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Reward challenge:

The Heroes watch the Villains file in one by one. JT whispers:”Coach’s gone.”

Rupert winks at him and shouts a little too enthusiastically, while gently slamming into him: “See? I told you?!!”

Then him, JT and Colby proceed to high-five one another under the contemptuous eyes of Amanda and Candice, until Jeff interrupts them: “Guys, it’s gonna get dark soon, we should get to the challenge. Rupert, what do you make of this lack of Coach?”

Rupert: Well, duh! That women’s alliance sure looks strong to me!

Colby and JT: Damn right!

The Villains giggle like a bunch of teenage girls who just made eye contact with a cute boy at the mall.

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The challenge itself is… oh boy, oh boy… I’m SO not good at describing the stuff that actually happens in the game… OK, I’ll try… But I’m nervous…

The Survivors go head-to-head in pairs, one member from each tribe. They have to stand barefoot between between two walls on small footholds. Every 10 minutes, they have to move down to a smaller foothold, then an even smaller one ten minutes later. From then on, it’s a matter of endurance. Whoever lasts longer scores a point for their tribe, first tribe to get to three points wins reward.

Did that make sense? If it didn’t, it’s your fault. You shouldn’t come here for an actual recap of the show. If you had read my last post, you would already know that you don’t come to this blog for accuracy, facts or truth. Not even truthiness. (© Stephen Colbert)

Back to the challenge, Courtney elbows Sandra: “I’ve done a similar challenge. The smaller the feet, the better. And we have five girls. We got this, you guys!” She and Parvati high-five. Rupert sticks his tongue out at Courtney. She gives him the finger.

The reward is: a feast from Outback Steakhouse. They all almost pass out from joy. I’m guessing that Outback Steakhouse must the Red Lobster of beef, amirite? I’m just askin’; I live in Québec, we ain’t got no Outback Steakhouse. But we got maple syrup, and you don’t, bitches.

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Time to move on to the challenge part of the challenge. Jeff asks the Survivors who they ranked and how. Oh, yeah, there was a mention of that in the War and Peace-sized tree mail they received… Basically, they were asked to rank their tribes’ members from whom they thought would be the best at that challenge down to the shittiest person. Russell was ranked so low he doesn’t even get to be in it. Excuse me while I do a quick happy dance…

The pairs are:

Danielle vs Candice; Courtney vs Amanda; Parvati vs JT, who happens to have both participated in and won this challenge in the Tocantins season. Then we have, oh, look! Jerri and Colby! Jerri bends forward to look at him and says, in a hilarious mock-soft voice: “Hey Colby…!” Ha! Colby grins and growls back: “Hi Jerri!” Jerri bursts out laughing and so do I.

Rebel Without A Clue note: A few days ago, I’ve started to rewatch Survivor’s second season, Australian Outback. That was Jerri and Colby’s first season, and it reminded me why I’ve always liked Jerri. She was absolutely awesome in that season! And that’s the Jerri I wants to see on THIS season. So for the love of God, evil it up, girl!

Erm, where was I again? Oh, yeah, last pair, also a fun one, Sandra vs Rupert who also played together on the Pearl Islands season, and they too were awesome. However, unlike Sandra, who’s still got it, Rupert has turned into a complete moronic bore this season (not that he wasn’t in All-Stars; two words: underground shelter.) But that’s enough dwelling on the past for now.

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Time for the Survivors to take their positions; they climb on their footholds, and the challenge is on. Jeff walks back and forth in front of them, licking a big red lollipop while babbling incessantly. “If any of you touch one of your walls with anything other than your forearms or heads, you will immediately be hit by lightning… Oh, I see you guys have put JT in the middle… Interesting… Rupert, there’s something on your chin… It’s a… beard! Hahaha!” And so on.

One of the first things I noticed while rewatching season 2, was that back then, Jeff kept his fucking trap shut during the challenges. I might send him a tweet later on, to suggest he too rewatches that season…

Once he’s all out of observations and lollipop, Jeff announces that today is Amanda’s 100th day on Survivor. I must say, respect. I know I wouldn’t last one afternoon on that show, especially with Jeff yabbering away non-stop like he’s doing. That’d drive me crazy.

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Perched on their tiny footholds, the Survivors are all looking solid. That’s too much for Jeff to take: “Time for y’all to step down to the smaller set of footholds. And I want to see you SWEAT! Come on!”

Sensing that Jeff is on a sugar high (that lollipop really was HUGE) Sandra decides to distract him with the tale of “When-I-went-to-the-Outback-Steakhouse-twice-the-week-b4-my-husband-left-for-Afghanistan”.

JT, from the privacy of his two walls, blows a kiss at Russell who’s sitting on the out-sitters’ bench. He winks back at JT.

OK, I’ll be serious here for a second, I’ve rewatched closely and several times the little love scene between Russell and JT right there, and I’ve gotta to hand it Russell, he does deserve a nomination for best acting on Survivor (although I still have Johnny Fairplay pegged as winner).

What really happened there was that JT, from his perch, mouthed to Russell: “Hang in there”. And Russell responded with a spot-on impression of the poor, pitiful, hopeless sole testicled-member of a tribe composed of five Wonderwomen. Sad puppy eyes and all. Per. Fect. JT even shed a tear. OK, I was exaggerating, he just frowned. But still.

And, to conclude on the JT/Russell thing, if anyone could tell me when and how exactly they became such good buddies, I’d be very grateful. Since they’re not on the same tribe and I have no recollection of them ever talking together about a potential alliance, I’d be curious to know how that came about.

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Of course, Russell, as the dick that he is, has to ruin that rare moment when he doesn’t make me want to throw a glass of water at the TV; he calls on me to gloat: “Hey! HEY!! You there, on the computer!”

RWAC: Are you talking to me?

Russell: Yes, I am. Have you seen how I am so good at this game that I’m even controlling what’s going on on the other tribe? JT’s mah bitch now. The second we merge, he’s gonna be all over me like a horny little puppy, thinking I’m gonna flip on mah women. Well, we’ll see about that. Clearly, that kid doesn’t know who Russell Hantz is. Because if he did, he…

RWAC: Oh, shut up, Russell. And unless you have something interesting to tell me, do not interrupt me while I’m writing, please. I don’t consider you parroting how you’re better than everyone else here as interesting. At least, not anymore. So you and your superiority complex, leave me the hell alone.

Russell: Whoa, PMSing much?

RWAC: You don’t know the first thing about PMS, Russell. And if it happened to you, you’d be crying like a pissy little girl, just like you did at the Samoa reunion show, like the sore loser that you are.

Russell: I don’t like you. You are mean.

RWAC: I don’t like you either. See, we have something in common. And now, shut up, please, I’ve a recap to write.

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While I was having my little tiff with Russell, ten more minutes have gone by and it’s time for the Survivors to step down to the smallest foothold and let the fun begin for good. With much wincing, grimacing, and groaning, the players manage to clumsily perch themselves on the last foothold, which really is very small. That’s gotta be tough on the guys and their big clumsy feet. I’d feel for them if only they weren’t so fucking stupid.

Jeff, who is now eating a popsicle, has started pacing back and forth again while commenting on how painful it must be to be standing on a quarter inch foothold under the burning sun.

After a brief struggle, Colby is the first one to lose his grip and to be out of the challenge. Jerri steps down painfully and elbows him in the ribs on her way to the bench where Russell is sitting. She shouts at Sandra: “Come on, you popped out some babies, this ain’t nothing!”

Sandra: Yep, two natural births, and didn’t even get an aspirin. So I know what pain is. And this isn’t pain, this is fun.

Everyone who isn’t sweating buckets while clenching their teeth laughs with Sandra. Rupert isn’t one of them. A little puddle of sweat has formed below him. He’s struggling like mad to keep his broken toe gripping the minuscule foothold, to no avail. He’s out.

Jeff summons Sandra to step down. She refuses: “Oh, come on Jeff, one more minute, please. I’m having a blast up here.”

Again, everyone who isn’t not fighting off devastating cramps is in stitches. JT mumbles something that sounds like “Someone shove a sock down the show-off bitch’s throat NOW.”

The Villains have two points. The players still in the challenge are now visibly struggling to hang on, with the exception of Courtney who seems as comfortable as if she was standing on a big fluffy cloud.

Then Amanda drops down and for the first time in the season, the Villains manage to win a challenge without Boston Rob. Maybe there is hope yet.

As the Heroes walk away, Sandra hollers at them: “Bon appétit, bitches!”

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Same day. Day. Outback Steakhouse. A group of very dirty people seem to be having the time of their life.

Sandra interviews: “I kinda feel bad about being at Outback Steakhouse without my husband cos it’s his favourite place to eat. I’m sure he’s dead jealous right now. Well, I’m sorry honey, but this is Survivor and I’m freakin’ starving. But hey, if it makes you feel better, I’ll eat for both of us.”

They sit down to eat. Courtney nibbles on a lettuce leaf and two fries, then pushes her chair back, exclaiming: “Phew! I’m full, you guys!”

Parvati: So am I… I need to go take a shit. Gotta make some room so that I can eat more. Be right back. Danielle, mind coming with me? I need someone to hold my purse.

Danielle: But you’re not carrying a p…

Parvati kicks her under the table.

Danielle: Ouch! What the… Ooops, I think I need to go take a shit too… Back in a sec!

Everyone stares at them as they’re walking away. Then they all go: “Meh. Whatever.” and dive back into their plates.

Interspersed in the midst of shots showing the Survivors stuffing themselves while making fun of the Heroes’s persistence into believing in an all powerful women’s alliance on the Villains’ side, are short confessionals. Jerri says: “It’s just so funny that they think us women are united, when it’s Russell who’s running the show over here! I find it absolutely hysterical! Hahaha!”

RWAC: You find that funny? I don’t. But then again, I’ve seen Samoa. If you had too, you wouldn’t be laughing right now, believe me.

Thankfully, Jerri’s laughing so hard she doesn’t hear me. Good. I’d hate to interfere in her game. Not that she has one.

On the beach, Parvati drags Danielle behind a bush:”Yo. Check this out!”

Danielle: What do you have? What is this? Vintage toilet paper?

Parvati: No, idiot, it’s a clue for a Hidden Immunity Idol!

Danielle: What? How did you get that?

Parvati: It was in my napkin. It fell on my lap when I unfolded it. So I immediately shoved it in my underwear, had a good time with it, then once I was done, I said I needed a crap.

Danielle: Oh, I was wondering why you were wiggling so much on your seat. You naughty girl, you! Was it good?

Parvati: Let’s just say I’ve had better sex toys. But do you know what else I’d like to do with this? Read it.

The two girls read the message, then Parvati asks Danielle: “Do you have a pocket?”

Danielle: I ever better: huge boobs which may or may not be real. Either way, there’s enough room in there to hide an entire roll of paper towels, so gimme that thing.

Danielle shoves the clue between her breasts, then gives the cameraman and the dude in charge of blurring private parts a field day by adjusting her buff so that it barely covers her nipples.

Then they head back to the feast, where everyone is laughing at Courtney’s impression of Rupert.

Parvati interviews that the reason why she told Danielle about the clue is that she wants her trust and her loyalty. She adds that she’ll fill in Russell about the HII on a need-to-know basis, but that right now, he doesn’t need to know.

That’s my girl! Jerri should totally take a clue from this chick. I’m not huge fan of Parvati’s personality, but after watching her in the Fans vs Favourites season, I must say I totally respect her gameplay. The girl is devious, clever, observant, subtle; she knows how to use people to her own advantage and she doesn’t make decisions on an emotional basis. She thinks. And I like that about her. As a bonus, she’s fun to watch.

I’m hoping she’ll wreak havoc later on in this game. Originally, I was hoping Jerri would be the one to do it, but at this point, I’m starting to seriously doubt it.

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Day 22. Heroes’ camp. Dusk.

JT is pacing back and forth like a caged lion: “Ah don’t give a flying fuck about steak. Ah didn’t come here to eat no friggin’ steak. I’ve eaten so much steak in mah lahfe ah can’t stand the stuff anymore. So fuck em and fuck their stupid steaks.”

In confessional, JT bursts into tears: “BWAAHHH! I want steak so baaaad! Back home, I live on steak, y’ know? I raise cattle, I eat Black Angus three times a day, whole ones, raw. Just catch the cow, kill it, and bite into the motherfucker! These guys don’t…”

The absence of beef in JT’s diet has obviously gone to gone to his head and seriously clouded his judgement. He stops mid-sentence, dries his tears and runs off, leaving the crew wondering what the hell.

He arrives at camp, out of breath, but overexcited: “Guys, I’ve thought of a great plan!” Curious, they all surround him.

JT explains that since it’s obvious there’s a women’s alliance on the Villains’ side and that Russell’s clearly the next to go (in spite on them having zero proof of neither) his genius plan is to somehow sneak his HII to Russell during the Immunity Challenge. He adds: “That way, if we win, he can save himself and get rid of Parvati.”

Amanda: How are you gonna give it to him though?

JT: Wrap it in a sheet of paper with instructions on how to use it.

Candice bites her bottom lip and looks at Amanda. Amanda says: “I need to go take a crap. Candice, can you come with me to hold my purse while I’m doing my business?”

The men look at the girls walk ways, then go: “Meh. Whatever.” and resume high-fiving JT and giving him big friendly slaps on the back.

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Amanda interviews: “I’m not sure about this. Seems pretty crazy to me, giving Russell the idol. We don’t know what’s going on over there. He could be in with the girls, for all we know. And that’s it: we don’t know…”

And, just like that, Amanda justified why she has spent 100 days on Survivor: because, not unlike Parvati, she takes a little time to analyze the situation before jumping on the “This is a fantastic idea!” bandwagon.

I too take a little time to reflect; the conclusion of my reflections is something that I’ve always known: men are stupid. If you don’t believe me, I have names: Rupert, Colby, JT, Coach, Tyson, James, Jason, Erik and Colby again.

In the woods, Amanda quizzes Candice: “What do you think of this dumb idea?”

Candice: It’s not dumb as it is crazy. If the guys are right, it could give us the numbers post-merge. Plus it would get the idol away from him.

RWAC, off the top of her voice, through a bullhorn: IT IS BOTH DUMB AND CRAZY! I BESEECH YOU, DON’T DO IT!!! STOP JT WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!!

Unfortunately, the girls don’t hear me. One of Survivor’s producers saw me come back with the bullhorn, so he gets the sound guy to crank some suspenseful music really really loud.

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Day 23. Villains’ camp. Russell is sitting on the beach, chewing on a piece of grass while staring into the horizon. He’s not talking, for once. There’s a rainbow in the sky. I find myself hoping there will be many more rainbows featured in the rest of this season, as they seem to keep Russell quiet. I dislike him a lot less when he’s silent. He also has nice eyes for such a shithead.

Back in the woods, Parvati, Danielle and a shovel are trying to make sense of the HII clue, which goes on about some “dancing trees”. I have no snarky comment on that one, I’m as confused as they are.

They decide to go look for dancing trees. 15 seconds later, Danielle stops in front of a bunch of regular trees: “That’s it. It’s here.”

Parvati: They don’t look like they’re dancing at all though.

Danielle: No, look down here!

Half hidden behind the trunk of one of the trees is a large red sign: “For Hidden Immunity Idol, dig here.”

The two girls exchange a knowing smile and start digging. Three inches deeper, they’re done digging: the HII is their possession. They take a couple of seconds to giggle like schoolgirls, then they quickly fill the hole they’ve just made.

During this whole scene, we’re shown the occasional shot a seemingly antsy Russell, walking around, looking into the woods. Has he seen or heard anything? The edit says no, but given that the edit seems to do its darnest best to make Russell appear as a genius, God knows if they won’t spring something on us about that next week.

In confessional, Parvati confirms that she won’t tell Russell about the HII, not because she doesn’t trust him, but because she wants to make him squirm a little bit. She adds that he isn’t the king of Survivor, but that she, Parvati Ist, is the Queen, and that either way, the king always ends up doing what the queen says, so she’s cool.

And I’m cool too.

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Same day. Heroes’ camp. Day. Whales in the sea. At least, what looks like whales.

The pen and pad of paper I was telling you about earlier are now making their official appearance in the game, causing the internet to crash due to the millions of people posting all at once on Survivor message boards: “This show is rigged: where the fuck did they get paper from?”

And in case you were wondering the same thing, the pen and paper were part of Amanda’s luxury’s item which her tribe won in an earlier challenge.

Oooh, you guys, I am so happy!!! I have finally found someone who is more long-winded than me: JT! His love letter to Russell is almost as long as this recap, and a lot soppier:

“Dear Russell,

I can’t wait until you come on mah side and we can go hunting for coconuts together. Ah’ll help you get rid of all them mean women, don’t worry. And maybe, we can cuddle at night. Lovin’ you forever, you “Villain”, you!

JT.”

I’ve left out all the bits which I thought were too inappropriate for my very tasteful blog, but on the show, that letter was way longer and dirtier.

JT reads his letter out loud to his tribesmates who are lying down in the shelter. He’s two thirds of the way through when Rupert lets out a loud snore. Candice turns over, elbows him, then says sleepily: “It’s very nice, JT, keep going… zzz…” Rupert wakes up long enough to growl: “That’s a great idea, JT!” then goes back to sleep too.

A bit disappointed, JT goes to confessional to read his letter to the crew. Although he does know that they aren’t allowed to give him any feedback, he interviews that he at least appreciates the fact that they made the effort to stay awake while he was reading.

And, in case we weren’t completely aware of how fucking Survivoricidal his plan is, he reiterates the whole thing. As if. But hey, at least, he admits he’s nervous. I’m not. I’m in stitches. I love this show.

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Immunity challenge. Day. As is usually the case during Immunity Challenges.

Jeff has to drag Candice in the sand over a distance of about a quarter mile to finally manage to wrestle the Immunity Idol from her. He comes back, sweating like a pig, takes a second to catch his breath, and explains the challenge. It involves water, floating platforms, a boat, puzzle pieces, obstacles, but really, who gives a flying fuck about that? All I care about is: will JT manage to put his crazy plan to execution and give Russell the HII? That is the real challenge.

Sandra sits out for the Villains. Wow, how unexpected.

Even though I don’t feel like getting into the intricacies of the challenge, I’ll just tell you that it’s rigged so that the Heroes win. There’re bags of puzzles to be untangled and carried in the water, thus making them much heavier. It’s obvious that the tribe which has all the big guys is gonna win that one.

Not that we should care. Personally, all I’m waiting for is the love scene between JT and Russell.

Skinny chicks or not, the Villainesses put up a good fight against the gorillas from the Heroes. And speaking of gorillas, Colby and Russell are now alone on their respective platforms in the water, conveniently beyond the others’ earshot.

Colby: Hey. You going tonight?

Russell: Uh-uh.

Colby: When the challenge is over, you go to JT. He’s gonna give you something. Use it tonight, protect yourself, get rid of one of them, then you come on board with us.

Russell: Which one do I get rid of?

Colby: Parvati.

Russell: Good call. She’s running the show.

Colby: Knew it! Get rid of her ass!

Russell: I wish I could shake your hand right now.

Colby: I don’t. You look filthy and slimy. But JT trusts you and since I have zero game. I might as well go with his “master plan”.

It’s Colby’s turn to jump in the water to rescue the last bag of puzzle pieces for his tribe. As soon as his gone, Russell starts howling with laughter like a maniac.

.

Expectedly, the Heroes win the challenge by what seems to be a landslide.

Unexpectedly, both tribe are seen exchanging handshakes, pats on the back and “There’s always tomorrow!” on the beach after Jeff’s “Villains, I’ll see you tonight at Tribal Council” bit. Russell walks straight to JT who’s carrying his shoes in his hand. The idol’s in one of them, wrapped in the love letter. JT quickly slips it to Russell who shoves it in his pants while they’re totally faking a hug.

Before we head to commercial, Russell interviews: “Now I don’t even have to find idols. People are giving me idols. You don’t hand the enemy the idol.”

I find myself frantically nodding. Then he adds: “Especially when his name is Russell Hantz.”

To distract myself from my urge to throw something at the TV, I go to the fridge to get another beer.

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Day 24. Heroes’ camp. Day. Nice day, actually.

JT’s in the shelter, talking Colby and Candice’s ears off about how he accomplished part 1 of his master plan: giving Russell the idol. After putting both of them to sleep again, he goes to look for Rupert and Amanda so that he can do a little more gloating: “We’ll make Survivor history after this one, guys!”

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Note from the future: You guys. I’m a bad, bad recapper. It’s now Thursday night, and the new episode has already aired (and it was AWESOME.) That means that I’m a week late.

The last sentence I typed last night was JT’s “We’ll make Survivor history after this one” statement. In the light of tonight’s riveting episode, I can only say one thing: Well done, JT, You have indeed made history. You are now an official member of the Survivor Hall of Shame and shall from now on have a prime spot in any montage of “Survivor’s dumbest moves”. Congrats, buddy.

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OK, where was I? Oh yeah, JT… Hahahaha!

… Ahem. I’m sorry folks. I just don’t think I’ll be able to write about JT’s mater plan with a straight face from now on. It’s been five hours and I’m still giggling from tonight’s episode. Master plan, my ass!!! LMAOROTFLOLBWAHAHA!!!

…

OK, I’m done. At least for now… Lol! (oops.)

Rupert interviews… (Oh, no, my god, this is gonna kill me, you guys…) Rupert talks about how beside himself with gratitude Russell must be now… I mean, one second, he’s getting voted out by a bunch of man-hating bitches, and the next, his ass is miraculously saved, all thanks to a scruffy-looking young Southerner who eats steak straight off the cow.

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Over at the Villains’ camp, Russell runs to Parvati: “Look! Look!”

Parvati: What’s that?

Russell: It’s a letter from JT!

Parvati:What does it say?

Russell: I don’t know, I can’t read words, only number$, remember?

Parvati: That’s right. Want me to read it? I… Oh my God, Russell… This is a love letter…!

What follows is a hilarious scene which is essentially great PR for Parvati. Her reading of JT’s letter is pretty damn funny, and the little: “BFFs forever, xoxo, JT” she adds at he end totally cracks me up. By the time she’s done, she, Russell and I are all in stitches. And rightly so. JT’s “Hopefully, you’re not truly a Villain” conclusion bit is both adorably naive and infuriatingly.. well, naive.

Parvati comments: “What is this? Passing notes? Are we in 5th grade? What is wrong with him? I cannot believe that kid won!”

I nod, clap and burst out laughing all at once.

Parvati interviews: “You don’t hand a Villain your heart. Today, JT gave Russell his heart. And Russell is going to stab it a million times… and give to me! And I’m gonna eat it!”

Although I’m not a heart eater myself (never been a fan of giblets) I couldn’t agree with her more.

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Meanwhile in the woods, Courtney and Sandra are gloomily walking side by side. Sandra explains that they’re both fully aware one of them is getting the boot tonight and that it makes her really sad. She adds that her without Courtney is like rice without beans.

All that tells me is that diet-wise, I have very little in common with this batch of Survivors. Between JT who eats whole cows, Parvati who devours hearts and Sandra’s rice and beans dish, I sure won’t be having dinner with one of those three anytime soon, let me tell you that.

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At the Villains’ camp, Parvati Danielle and Russell are having an excruciating debate, as to whom they should vote at TC.

Russell: So? Courtney?

Danielle: Simple. Parvati?

Parvati: Huh?

Russell: Courtney?

Parvati: Whatever. Sure.

Danielle: Settled.

In confessional, Russell explains the outcome of this painful discussion: “I don’t trust neither Sandra nor Courtney, but I don’t like Courtney cos’ I think she’ll flip.”

Sure. That makes sense. Keeping around one of Survivor’s most infamous floaters, who happens to have won her season and is now in an all-stars game on the Villains’ tribe is very smart. Well done, Russell. Maybe you should take a clue from your own book. Just like you, there’s a reason why Sandra too is a Villain… Just sayin’.

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In the woods, Courtney has managed to corner the wise high priestess of the Villains, Parvati, to plead her cause to her: “So? Are they voting for me or Sandra?”

Parvati: I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.

Courtney: I do: keep me around. We have five, and after the merge, Amanda is likely to come with us cos she trusts me. Or at least, she did five seasons ago. But since I’m really desperate right now, I’ll just assume that she still does. So there you have it: keep me and I’ll be your bitch until the end of the season. The only thing I won’t do is throw Sandra under the bus and vote for her. How’s that for loyalty? So I guess I’m gonna vote for Jerri. You do what you gotta do.

Parvati says she’ll do her best to save her, but confesses that even though she really likes Courtney and thinks she’s likely to be a loyal ally in the long run, campaigning too hard for her to stay will make the other Villains suspicious.

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Wow you guys. Not only has Parvati become the Godmother of Survivor, she also has acquired the ability to be everywhere at once: there she is now, with Jerri, Danielle and Russell, who insists he has a little something to show them.

Danielle: But we don’t want to see your little something. I have a boyfriend, you know?!

Jerri: As for me, the only little something I actually wanted to see was Coach’s. Guess it’ll have to wait until Ponderosa, now…

Russell: Not that, you idiots! This!

Russel takes out the engagement immunity idol his loverboy JT gave him. The expression of disgust immediately vanishes off Danielle and Jerri’s faces, only to be immediately replaced by one of complete disbelief: “Get the fuck out of here!! How did you get this?”

Russell explains to the girls JT’s big dumb plan, and they’re all having a field day laughing their asses off.

Parvati decides to take advantage of the fact that everyone is in a good mood to make a suggestion: “Hahaha! JT’s an idiot, isn’t he? LOL! Giving an II to an enemy, what a moron… By the way, what would you guys think about keeping Courtney instead of Sandra?”

They all stop laughing and stare at her.

Russell: Why would you want to keep Courtney?

Parvati: Because I think that post-merge, she’d be more loyal to us. Sandra may well flip.

RWAC: Good point.

Russell: You, the blogger, shut up. You’re not in this game, so butt out, ok?

RWAC: Alright, alright… Jesus.. Stick up the arse much, Hobbit?

Russell: Hey! You don’t insult Russell Hantz, got it? Stupid dork… Where was I? Ah, yeah… I think Courtney would be much more likely to flip.

Parvati: I disagree. Sandra will flip before Courtney.

Danielle: They’re both likely to flip. Now, it’s just a matter of…

Then everyone starts talking at once, throwing names in every which way and we can clearly see that all that strategizing is hurting poor Jerri’s head: “I’m confused.. Are we voting for Sandra now?”

Russell, Danielle, Parvati: We don’t know.

Jerri: Well, when you do know, tell me who you picked and I’ll vote for them. I’ve zero game this season, so I might as well ride your coattails for as long as I can. Alright, I’m off for a walk, see you back at camp.

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Tribal Council. Night. As usual. Lit torches everywhere. Very Dante’s Inferno-esque. At least, according to my idea of what Dante’s Inferno must be like. I haven’t actually read it.

Jeff: Let’s welcome the first member of our jury, Coach.

Nothing.

Jeff, much louder: LET’S WELCOME THE F…

A shuffle and mumbling are heard off camera. Coach jogs in, dripping wet, attempting vainly to close the bathrobe of Japanese inspiration he’s wearing.

Danielle: Ooops, Jerri, I think I just saw Coach’s little something… Look, quick! Ah, too late!

Coach sits in the jury area and explains: “Sorry, I was doing tai-chi in the shower and didn’t realize I had been in there for four hours. Hi, Jerri!”

Jeff: No “Hi Jeff!” for me, Coach? I’m hurt. I like the robe though. OK, Sandra: trust: still an issue?

Sandra: Jeff, don’t jinx me please. When I watch the show at home with my husband, the person whom you ask the trust question to is always the last one I would trust. Anyway, I know I’m in trouble tonight, since all the people I was allied with either kicked themselves out or were flipped on by members of their own alliance, Jerri. So tonight, it’s between me and Courtney.

Jeff: Is that true, Courtney?

Courtney: Yes.

Jeff: What else?

Courtney: There’s nothing else.

Jeff: Erm, but we still need at least five minutes of Tribal Council footage. If you and Sandra, who are the funniest and most talkative people left in the game answer my questions with one-liners, what are we going to show the viewing audience?

RWAC: That the show is not scripted?

All the Villains: You, shut up!!

RWAC: Man, these people are rude! When I used to recap American Idol, they had no problem with me interfering with their show… I guess hunger makes one cranky…

Villains: Shhhhh!

Jeff: Well, at least, she’s participating, unlike you lot. So unless you guys start answering my questions properly, I’m letting the blogger take over and you’ll be here all night. It’s up to you. Now, Russell, will you tell me if there’s a correlation between Courtney and Sandra being on the chopping block, and the fact that they sat out more challenges than anyone ever did in nineteen and a half seasons?

Russell: As if…! No, not at all. It all goes down to trust and to whom I’d like to fuck. Courtney is too skinny, and Sandra is married.

Jeff: Danielle, what is it about Sandra’s trustworthiness, or lack of, that her name keeps coming up tonight?

Danielle: She’s not in my alliance. And I’ve seen that she’s able to manipulate people.

Jeff: Give me an example.

Sandra: Yeah, please, do. I too would love to hear an example.

Danielle: I’ve seen you planting things into people’s minds just to stir up the pot.

Jeff: Danielle, focus. You’re not answering the question, which was about trust, not about having a big mouth.

Everyone giggles. Even Coach takes a break from towelling his hair to point and laugh at Danielle.

Danielle: Well, basically, I don’t trust her because she’s not on my side…

Jeff: And she doesn’t do what you want her to do. Amirite?

Sandra: Thing is, I was with Boston Rob from the beginning. Now he’s gone, so they’re all turning against me and Courtney cos’ we’re the last ones left from that alliance.

Danielle: No, that’s not it. It’s because you, Boston Rob, Courtney and Tyson never talked to me. The others did.

RWAC: Well, to be quite honest, you’re kind of boring. I had to both Google and Wikipedia you to remember who the heck you were. To my surprise, turned out you were the runner-up of season 12? Wow. Given that I still remember Sonja who was the first boot of the first season, I guess that makes you one of the most forgettable Survivors ever!

Russell: Didn’t I tell you to sh…

Danielle: Actually, the blogger’s right, I’m not that popular, so I’ll align with anyone who gives me a bit of attention. And Russell and Parvati did. For selfish reasons, of course, since I doubt they like me, but as long as they need me and pretend to be my friends, I’m happy. Then after the merge, I’m planning to ally with Candice who may be even more boring than me.

RWAC: I thought that too, but Candice is actually using her brain. I guess the editing just neglected to show it. Plus when this season started, I at least remembered having seen her somewhere before. You, I had no recollection.

Danielle: It’s alright, bitch, we got it. I’m boring, forgettable, blah blah blah. I think you made your point now.

RWAC: Oooh, attitude, I like that!… OK, I’m sorry you guys, keep going. I’ll be quiet.

Sandra: OMG, blogger, you’re as bad as me! Anyway, Danielle, you’re complaining Boston Rob and I never said hello to you, but there’s a reason for that: right off the bat, we made a pact that we wouldn’t accept any boring people in our alliance, so there you go.

Danielle: That’s not very nice. Plus you were Boston Rob’s bitch.

Sandra: Funny it’s Parvati’s bitch who should say that…

Danielle: But I’m not Parvati’s bitch!

Sandra: So are!

Danielle: So not!

Sandra: OK. Then if I’m Rob’s bitch and he’s telling me what to do, how do you explain I’m still here without him telling me what to do?

Danielle looks at her feet and doesn’t answer.

Jeff: So, Parvati, are you the boss?

Parvati: Of course. If you ask the Heroes, I’m the boss and I have more power than Barack Obama and Oprah Winfrey rolled up together in a ball.

Jeff: What about Courtney isn’t trustworthy?

Parvati: For me, it isn’t about trust, it’s about alliances.

RWAC: Good point.

Jeff: Didn’t you just say you’d keep quiet?

RWAC: Ooops, I’m sorry… It… just came out. My bad.

Russell: I’ll tell you what about trust: out of …[insert long bullshitty monologue about trust here]… Danielle, Parvati and me are very tight.

Jeff: Courtney, what are you thinking?

Courtney: It’s true that these three are very tight. Sandra and I stuck with Rob even when we knew he was going, and when he did, it was the beginning of the end for us. Coach and Jerri deserted that sinking ship like the rats they are, and…

Jerri: Hey! Leave me out of this, I didn’t do anything.

RWAC: Damn right!

Coach: Just ignore her. She’ll go away.

Courtney: What do you mean you didn’t do anything? You goddamned flipped on us to join in on the threesome!

Jerri: I know, I have that thing for fake boobs… But it was only sexual, it didn’t mean anything…

Courtney: Ewww! Anyway, point is, you dumped us.

Jerri: I don’t feel that way. As far as I’m concerned, I was never in any alliance.

Courtney: Regardless. You still voted with their group against our group. Courtney doesn’t approve. But hey, you flipped just in time, awesome for you. I didn’t, and look where I am now. Fuck loyalty, man. Shittiest strategy ever.

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It’s time to vote.

We don’t get to see who votes for whom, so let’s jump straight to the next bit, shall we?

It’s time to read the votes:

Jerri.

Courtney, Courtney, Courtney, Courtney.

Damn. Another funny one gone. I know this isn’t Last Comic Standing, but dude. This show needs some comedy, and who the hell do you think is gonna provide that now? Colby? JT? (Actually, JT will bring the house down, albeit not intentionally. I can’t wait to tell you all about it!)

Courtney hugs Parvati and Sandra, hands her torch over to Jeff, and takes the walk of shame which also happens to be the walk of comfortable bed, fully equipped bathroom and three meals a day. Downside: she’ll be stuck in Coach’s company. Can’t have it all.

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Next week on Survivor:

Merge! (For real this time.) Yippee!

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Final words:

Courtney’s swan song is super-cute. She’s proud the skinny chick made it all the way to the jury, which she is totally looking forward to. She says she can’t wait to make fun of the remaining players’ smelly rags and dirty hair and to torture them with bitchy questions. She adds that she’s been pretty lucky in both her Survivor experiences and that she doesn’t hate anyone intensely. Aww. I’ll miss her.

She graciously wishes everyone good luck, and this is the end of Courtney. At least for me, who’s being shut out of Ponderosa by CBS cos’ I’m Canadian. Assholes.

Noteworthy: during Courtney’s final confessional, while we are shown which Survivors voted for whom, I was surprised to see that Sandra actually voted for her pal Courtney. Not that there was much she could have done to save her, I guess, but still, I didn’t expect it.

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Well, that’s about it for me. Overall, this was an average episode. Great middle bit, all thanks to JT, his lenghty love letter and his big stupid scheme. Unfortunately, it ended on a lacklustre Tribal Council which was both predictable and, in my case, a frustrating lose-lose situation, since I didn’t want neither the skinny bitch nor the Latina one to go home. Oh well.

So at this point, I guess that all my hopes of seeing havoc wreaked in that game rest on Sandra and Parvati. On the upside, they’re two of the remaining three previous winners left in the game – the third one being JT, that genius. And I trust that my devious cunning girls can deliver a repeat performance. So better watch your back, Hobbit.

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As for you, reader, you better come back for my next recap, or else… well… Nothing will happen. But come back anyway. It’ll make me happy.

See you next time!

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As we remember all too well, we lost Survivor darling Boston Rob at the end of last episode. Since my previous post about (among other things) that tragedy, I’ve gotten myself a prescription for Prozac and am doing much better, thank you very much.

The show has barely started that already, I want to throw something at the TV.

Note: I will not mention Mr. Hantz by name in any of my posts until: a) he gets voted out; b) the show’s editors stop submitting us to the following every. Single. Fucking. Week:

Because we didn’t get near enough of that self-congratulatory rhetoric from "him" during the last 20-ish episodes, let’s start this one with the now famous: "I am the best player this game has ever seen and I have all these stupid people wrapped around my smelly little toe and I call all the shots and mwahahaha" speech. I seriously cannot take it anymore.

What’s that? Oh, I see, they’ve decided to cram all the I-want-to-throw-something-at-the-TV moments at the beginning of the show… Interesting artistic direction, I suppose, if you can call this art…

Coach is whining. "Aww, I didn’t want Boston Rob to go, he was my friend. He’s gone because of that big meanie "R" who’s bullying everyone into doing what he wants, and because they’re all cowards and pussies, they listen to him. Bad, bad people."

Rebel Without A Clue: "Well, Coach, if you don’t mind, there’s a little something I’d like to talk to you about…"

Coach: Who the hell are you?

RWAC: I am the head blogger of this blog. As well as the only blogger. My name is Rebel Without A Clue, but you can call me Rebel. Or salomey5. Or RWAC. Or Rachel. It’s up to you.

Coach: Holy shit, and I thought I had a lot of nicknames! Well, you can call me Dragon Slayer.

RWAC: Nah, too long to type. It’s either Coach or Ben, you choose.

Coach: Just Dragon then?

RWAC. Nope. That’d be confusing. And don’t say "Slayer" because that name already belongs to a metal band and they’ll sue your ass if you use it. So, what it will be?

Coach: Coach, I guess…

RWAC. Perfect. Well, Coach, you are a fucking moron.

Coach: W…

RWAC: You have the nerve to whine about Boston Rob being gone, after you went and voted for Courtney? What the fuck were you thinking?

Coach: Well, I…

RWAC: You do realize that had you voted for "him", you could have forced a tie, right? And maybe, just maybe, Boston Rob would not have gone home? You know that, right?

Coach: But…

RWAC: Shut up, you idiot! I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses about loyalty and integrity and not wanting to lie and disappoint. You’re on SURVIVOR for Christ’s sake! Go on the Wheel of fucking Fortune if you’re that concerned about keeping your virtues intact. Jesus…

Coach: I… I am sorry ma’am.

RWAC: I gave you a vast array of names to choose from, and you call me "Ma’am"? Seriously dude, you are… I have no words. Not for the likes of you. You drive me nuts, good-bye.

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I have an announcement to make: Tonight, I have a free offer on "Virtual Slaps for Survivors". Who wants in?

Jerri gets in line right behind Coach: "I want a slap too. I think voting out Rob may have been a mistake. I miss him already.

Coach: Why were you so quick to get rid of him then?

Jerri: What are you talking about? I never… Sigh… I did, didn’t I…?

Coach: I think you screwed up big time by aligning with "him". And now, we’re stuck with "his" alliance, an alliance based on lies, Jerri, LIES. So? What do you wanna do? Stick with them or run away while we still can?

Jerri: I say we wait and see what happens at the merge.

I don’t think that when she pronounced the word "merge", Jerri was aware she had just opened a Pandora’s box full of delusional; a box which appears to have the power of making seasoned Survivors see merges on day 19. But I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Plus for all I know, there may been have merges on day 19 before. I do love the show, but not to the point of doing actual research on it. I leave that part to the real fans (aka: the trolls on IMDb’s Survivor message board who’ll give you shit for not knowing who got the boot in 5th place on season 11.)

And, by letting the word "merge" out of her mouth, Jerri planted a seed which turned into a full-grown plant in a matter of minutes. OK, hours. I forgot we were watching an edited version of the events. Regardless, that plant grew damn quick. Must have been bamboo.

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On the Heroes side, JT, the nice Southern boy who won season 18 is seen conspicuously going for a walk by himself. On Survivor, you don’t go do anything by yourself unless it’s in plain sight of everybody else.

So of course, JT does exactly that. He explains: "We all decided we’d look for the HII (Hidden Immunity Idol) as a group. Then I decided to beat the group to it. Hehehe!"

Back at camp, Amanda is bored with no potential boyfriend to make dewy eyes to, so she decides to go look for the cutest boy in the Heroes tribe, JT.

Whom she finds two seconds later with his hand in his pants. Literally.

Amanda: What are you doing?

JT: Who? Me? Nothing.

Amanda: Were you looking for the Idol?

JT: Me? Noooo… No, not at all. I was masturbating. Look! Hand in mah pants! Hahaha!

Amanda: That bulge wasn’t there before. Trust me, I notice these things. I dated Ozzy after all.

JT: Ok, ok… Busted! Hahaha!

Amanda: Cut the crap. What’s in the pants?

JT: I found it! But shhh… Let’s get out of here before anyone…

Candice appears from out of nowhere: "Hi guys! What ya up to?"

JT promptly hides the hand holding the idol behind his back: "Hmm, nothing… Nothing at all… "

Candice: What are you hiding behind your back?

JT: Me? Ha! Nothing, I.. I just woke up like this this morning. Slept in a funny position, probably…

Amanda rolls her eyes and grabs the idol from JT’s hand: "He’s found the idol"

Candice: Whaa? That’s great, let’s go tell everyone!

And just like that, poor JT is forced to return to camp and pretend he’s all happy to have an idol to share with everyone.

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Someone will have to explain to me what the fuck is up with this: "Let’s not look for the idol, guys" mentality. Hell, if it were me, I’d be looking for that thing as if my life depended on it. On that specific element, I must admit that I agree with "him". Anything that can help save your ass, even once, is good to have in one’s possession on Survivor. As long as you play it, of course… *cough*James, Ozzy, Erik*cough*

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JT should maybe think about taking a couple of acting classes, should he get invited back on Survivor. His little "Look guys, I have the idol, I’m so happy for us" act didn’t fool Candice one bit.

She asks Amanda: Do you think you walked in on him?

Amanda doesn’t answer, but the smile she gives Candice does all the talking.

Candice interviews that JT is a floater who has alliance with just about everybody, and that he’s basically a fucking snake everyone should keep an eye on instead of sucking up to. In which she is 100% right. Candice adds that it would be in Amanda’s best interest to work with her so that they can at least flush the idol, if not the guy who has it.

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The poor Villains are in bad shape. The girls are complaining about the lack of food and everyone is shutting down apart from Coach, always the trooper: "This was only a small setback. I mean, who needs food! We don’t need to eat! Come on, let’s get up and do yoga and then meditate some! Who’s with me?"

No one, it seems. Doesn’t look like yoga and motivational speeches are what this tribe needs. What this tribe needs, is treemail that doesn’t in any way, shape or form say: "We’re merging." Yet, the so-called "Villains" are so lost without Boston Rob telling them what to do that they’ve completely given up on strategy and are now relying solely on the prospect of a premature merge to figure out what to do with their miserable selves.

RWAC: Villains: I am severely disappointed in you. I was rooting for you big time at the start. And now, look at you… You’re playing like retards, voting out the wrong people and you’re on a losing streak after dominating for weeks (well, days, in real time). Shame on you, villains, shame on you.

Sandra: What the hell was that?

Coach: Oh, that’s RWAC, aka a whole lot of other people. She’s a blogger. Don’t mind her, she’s a bit of bitch, but she’s harmless. Just let her scream at you and don’t talk back. She’ll go away after a bit. Oh, and don’t call her "Ma’am".

Sandra: RWAC… Don’t call her Ma’am… Got it.

Coach: You can call her Rebel, if you prefer. She has a boatload of other names, but I don’t remember them.

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Back to treemail, as Parvati reads the (maybe a teeny tiny wee bit misleading, I admit) message, the Villains’ faces light up like toddlers’ on Christmas morning.

"Him": It sounds like it will be an individual challenge…

Danielle: And there’s food…

Parvati: And it did mention "good clean fun"…

Coach: Merge.

Silent pause.

Then everyone: "THE MERGE!!!! YEAY!!!!"

After they’re done jumping all over one another like horny possums, they decide that their next course of action has to be to entirely dismantle their camp and take everything they can with them, since they’re like, totally merging and might not get to come back.

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The reward challenge is bowling. The reward itself is pizza and drinks that are not-water. Treemail wasn’t lying: it is clean fun and there is food.

The Heroes, looking in top shape, come and sit down.

Two hours later, the first Villain, Coach, finally appears, dragging half of the camp’s items

Ten minutes later, also carrying twice their weight in tarps and machetes and jugs and the like, Parvati, Danielle and "him" appear, followed shortly by Jerri.

Jeff asks: "Where are Sandra and Courtney?"

Villains: Oh, shit, yeah, where are they? How long have they been missing?

Whispers are heard in the bushes nearby: "It’s bowling. We can do this. We should come out, you never know, they may ask us if we wanna play, and if we do, bang! we don’t have to participate in the IC (Immunity Challenge) and that way, we don’t get blamed if we lose. Let’s go!"

Sandra and Courtney appear, all "Sooooorry… We got lost, but then, we found a machete half buried on the side of a path and we just knew we were on the right track."

Jeff: Alright. Heroes, guess who got voted out last night?

The Heroes all go: "Ooooh!" and "Wow!" and "Fuck!" and "Shit!" apart from Colby who murmurs: "They brought their entire camp… Are we merging?"

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I often find myself wondering WTF it was that I found so fantastic about Rupert on Pearl Islands. These days, it seems like he can’t open his mouth without something stupid falling out. Upon looking over at the remaining Villains and seeing a large Bostonian missing, with a knowing smile he opens the second Pandora’s box that was hidden in the game: "Sure looks like they have a women’s alliance…!"

Aaaaaaand there ya go. Now everyone within earshot is convinced that there’s a women’s alliance on the Villain’s tribe, including the women of the Villains’ tribe themselves (see: Tribal Council).

Meanwhile, I have a question: did I miss something, or do "him" and JT have a "thing"? And I don’t mean anything sexual by that, but I saw them mouth and sign shit at each other as the tribes were sitting on their benches pre-challenge. What the fuck was that about? Is there something I don’t know? Am I seeing things? Is it the magic of editing that makes me see things?… Ah, all these questions, and no answers… A bit like the series Lost…

Speaking of lost, Colby totally is: "What the hell was it in that goddamn treemail that made mention of a merge and that I didn’t see?… Colby, old man, you’re losing it. You’re not cut for this shit anymore. After this adventure, you’re good to forever retire in Texas and wait for death… Tsk…"

Jeff gives a nice subtle little speech implying that there may, after all, be a merge. The Survivor are all sitting up straight like well-behaved children, listening to all that teasing and waiting excitedly to hear the word: "merge" followed by the words: "enjoy your pizza and not-water".

Not gonna happen. Jeff says: "Drop… your…"

Courtney squeaks. Jerri lets out a little "Yeay!" and Coach pulls off his buff and throws it at Jeff’s feet.

Jeff: …expectations.

Everyone looks at Jeff. Then at Coach’s buff. Then at Coach.

Coach, his face as red as my red pajamas, gets up, scuttles toward Jeff, picks up his buff and quickly puts it back on his head while returning to his seat. Everyone is looking super-disappointed, although the Heroes nowhere near as much as the Villains.

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I’ll spare you the minutiae details of the actual challenge, as I’m not good at describing the things that actually do happen in the shows I recap. Not in just a few words anyway, so I’ll abstain altogether.

Basically, a person from each tribe bowl against one another; whoever knocks down the most pins in two attempts gets a point for their tribe; first tribe to get 3 points wins and the pizza and not-water are all theirs. Villains have to sit out two people:

Coach: Sandra, do you wanna bowl?

Sandra: I don’t care.

Coach: Courtney, do you wanna bowl?

Courtney: Whatever the group wants.

Parvati: Remember we’ll have to sit 2 people for the IC later today and we…

Coach: I want pizza. We’ll sit out Sandra and Courtney.

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Challenge:

Team 1: Rupert vs Parvati: Rupert wins.

Team 2: JT vs Danielle: JT wins.

Team 3: Colby vs "him". "He" wins. Fair and square, I can’t argue, although I wish I could.

Team 4: Coach vs Amanda:

Amanda wins, Heroes get pizza, Villains get to go rebuild their camp and I get a commercial break.

No, I don’t, actually. We get to stick around for the Heroes’ feast. Between two bites of pizza the size of France, Rupert continues to mislead his team with his talk of a female alliance on the other side. I’m guessing the not-water must be beer after all, because they’re all eating Rupert’s deduction as if it was pizza, without questioning it in the least.

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The Villains are back at their camp, and boy is Jerri pissed. She interviews: "Who came up with the stupid idea of taking with us everything from the camp that didn’t have roots? And why did we vote out Rob? And who decided that Courtney and Sandra should sit the reward challenge out? I hate this game!"

RWAC: Jerri, Jerri, Jerri. I used to like you a lot. Even on first series, when I was pretty much your only supporter. But in the last 2 episodes, you have irritated the heck out of me, so you better get your shit together and start playing like the intelligent woman I think you are, or I’m signing the "I’m now officially rooting for Sandra" form. Got it? I give you ONE last chance to not make me turn against you. Use it wisely. On that, Rebel, out.

Jerri: What the… Oh, yeah, must have been that blogger… Coach was right, she is a bitch.

RWAC: I’m saying this for your own good, Jerri. Go play, now. And play well.

Jerri shrugs and heads back to camp, where she proceeds to give everyone shit for voting out Rob, dismantling the camp and picking Sandra and Courtney to sit out the challenge. Sandra’s all: "Whoa, wait a minute, Curly. So now, it’s Courtney and I’s fault that we lost?"

Jerri: No, it’s Coach’s fault. He’s the one who wanted pizza.

Sandra: So why do you say it’s Courtney and I’s fault?

Danielle: No one said that.

Sandra: I dunno. I’m so used to hear: "Sandra and Courtney" and "reasons we lost" in the same sentence than I don’t know anymore.

Sandra then hilariously interviews: "I shouldn’t be here! I should be on the Heroes’ tribe!" and adds that other than Courtney, she equally hates all the members of her tribe. Love-love-love her!

Love-love-love her even more now: she takes Courtney aside and suggests they could try to get even with Coach by going to "him" and tell "him" that Coach is gunning for "him". That’ll surely make "him" paranoid and send "him" gunning for Coach. Sandra promises she’ll go work her magic on "him" as we head to commercial.and I can finally go pee.

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When we come back, Coach is looking for a sympathetic ear. He finds Courtney sitting on the beach: "I didn’t want to play this game without Tyson and Boston Rob. I hate these people."

Courtney: Whatever. I know I’m the next to go, so what do I care. Move over, you’re blocking the sun and ruining my sun tan… Anyway, it’s you guys’ fault, you’re the ones who let "him" run the show out of fear, or something…

A little further on the beach… Wow, dude, Courtney really is unbelievably thin…! That’s almost scary… Sorry, they just showed a shot of her with the light coming from behind her, and, her waist is like the size of a pencil. Crazy. I would call her "Bones", if only the name wasn’t already taken by some stupid CSI clone type shit show… Anyway. Back on topic before I veer too far away.

So… oh, yeah. Time for Sandra to go "work her magic" on "him". They’re sitting on the beach, and he’s being paranoid about the conversation they just saw Coach and Courtney having:

"Courtney was just talking to Coach. Anyway, I’m not worried about her. I’ll just tell everyone that she’s whom we’re voting for, and that’s exactly what will happen. That simple."

Sandra: But I heard Coach said that voting out Boston Rob was a mistake…

"Him": What? Coach said that? What a two-faced little shithead… Well, his ass is on the line now. You don’t go against me. Anyone who goes against me in this game is toast. You hear me? He’s digging his own grave right now.

A minute later, Sandra is seen giggling behind a bush. She interviews: "Haha! Seen that? That idiot ate all that crap up! Hahaha! This guy doesn’t know how to play this game! He’s done good up til now, but with me here, he doesn’t know what he got himself into! Hahaha!"

All confused and panicked by the bullshit Sandra just told him about Coach, "he" runs to consult with Parvati. They both agree that voting out Coach may be a good idea after all, since it would keep the Heroes’s stupid assumption that there’s an all powerful women’s alliance on the Villains’ side very much alive.

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Immunity challenge: obstacle course in the mud. Yeay, lots of slipping and falling!

The Survivors most go through the course belted together in pairs, retrieve a flag at the end and come back to their starting point. The two remaining people of each tribe will compete one-on-one. First tribe to have two flags win immunity. Jerry and Danielle sit out. As they go take a seat, they throw dirty looks at Coach.

First pairs are: "Him"/Sandra vs Amanda/Candice. Not unexpectedly, Amanda/Candice are killing this one. I love Sandra, but let’s face it, she sucks at most challenges. A teeny little part of me feel terrible for feeling slightly sorry for the Hobbit on crack, whose visible frustration I can understand. I don’t know who the fuck thought of pairing up those two. Anyway, that’s one point for the Heroes.

Next to go are Rupert vs Coach. Coach wins that one, but only by a second. Rupert is damn fast and agile for a big guy.

Last pairs are Parvati/Courtney vs JT/Colby and I think I already know how that one’s gonna go… Expectedly, the guys beat the girls by 62 miles and Courtney twists her ankle by just being Courtney and sucking at challenges that involve moving. Danielle rolls her eyes.

Why the Villains didn’t belt Sandra and Courtney together, I have no clue. I know I would have paired up two strong players and try to make up time that way, rather than splitting them up only to end up with two slow teams instead of one. But anyway, not my tribe, not my problem.

And on that, the Heroes win immunity, again. I betcha they wouldn’t be in that mess if Boston Rob was still around. Just sayin’.

Danielle interviews that Courtney is a useless sack of shit and a handicap for the tribe, and that it’s not fair to keep around people without any physical abilities at all. Because of course, Survivor is all about physical abilities. Case in point: Tina, Sandra. Shut up, Danielle.

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Ah, my favourite moment of each episode: the pre-TC (Tribal Council) scrambling. I loooove that part.

It starts with everyone but Coach getting in the water to wash the mud off themselves and counting one another’s scratches and bruises. Even the Troll participates in that whine fest.

Meanwhile Coach’s all: "I see this as going to the spa, but free. And minus the hot towels and soft dressing-gowns… Bwahhh… I want to go home and go to a real spa!" Then he does some silly tai-chi moves and I have this urge to punch something. I’ll be honest, I just do not see what the big deal is with Coach. I know I haven’t seen Tocantins yet, but if Tai-Chi and New-Agey bullshit are what it’s about, I won’t bother watching it.

I find Coach annoying and flaky as well as dull and boring. Drama and identity crises can be fun occasionally, but I need more than that to keep me interested in a player for longer than two episodes. I’m not just a fan of the show Survivor, I’m also a fan of the game. And the reason why I watch the show is to see people actually playing the damn game, not spending all their air time stretching or whining.

Strategy-wise, Coach has done nada this season. And he intends to keep going in that direction. He makes a looong speech full of hypothesis and probabilities and possibilities and all kinds of other math on who he could vote for and what would happen if he did, only to conclude with: "But in the end I’ll probably just stick to this alliance I hate so much it keeps me up awake at night, and vote for Courtney. She is, after all, the weakest link."

Coach, you suck. Get off my TV.

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Hobbit reminds us that he has the power in this game, in case we forgot over the course of the last four minutes. And also, he’s now all about voting off Coach, that dirty double-crosser. As for me, I’m silently giggling while sending imaginary flowers to Sandra.

Things get even funnier as we witness a ridiculous argument between ’him" and Danielle. She wants Courtney out; he’s hell-bent on ousting Coach. They throw insults at one another. Neither makes any sense, and I don’t know what the hell is happening on this show anymore, nor who’s aligned with whom and who’s voting who for whom and why, but I don’t care cos’ it is all so very fucking hilarious. Man, I love Survivor!

Danielle rabbits on some more about Sandra-and-Courtney-being-useless-in-challenges-especially-Courtney. I’m starting to understand why she’s been given so little airtime up until now. Useless-in-challenges or not, Sandra and Courtney at least give us these awesome confessionals, whereas Danielle, erm, not so much. She adds that at this point, she doesn’t know who the fuck to vote for anymore. So she goes to consult with the ever-wise Parvati.

Oh, look at that. Guess who’s creeping through the woods to also consult with Parvati? Yup, "him". "You know what? I might have a change of heart", "he" says.

Danielle stares at him: "Are you fucking kidding me? I’m having a change of heart too!"

Parvati looks at them and shakes her head: "You two are driving me crazy. I’m off back to camp to flirt my way into making the others vote the way I want them to. Later, bitches."

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Tribal council:

As usual, Jeff starts off by pointing out how stupid it was of them to vote off Boston Rob and Tyson, two strong players (if we leave out Tyson’s malfunctioning brain, that, is).

He asks Danielle something, and she says that sljkfàaatkopruiteajèysooooooooo… Ooops, sorry, that was me falling asleep on the keyboard, my apologies. Did I miss anything? No? That’s swell.

Let’s us move on to the part where Jeff points out for the 17th time how incredibly dumb they were for keeping Courtney over Boston Rob and Tyson.

Courtney hilariously snaps back: "Thanks Jeffrey."

Jeff: But you sat out the majority of challenges!

Courtney: That’s because no one in the group wanted to let me play. Furthermore, I never voted for either Rob or Tyson, so don’t give me shit for stuff that I didn’t do, k? I never wrote your precious Rob’s name down, so give me a break, Probst. Insulting me’s not gonna bring him back.

Jeff: It wasn’t meant as an insult. Admit it, Boston Rob was dominating in the challen…

Courtney: I agree with you. Which is why I wanted to keep him here.

Jeff: But Danielle just said you voted him out because he was a such a threat? (RWAC: She did? Was it while I was napping?)

Courtney: I didn’t vote him out, the tribe did. And he just happened not to be in the dominating alliance.

Coach then proceeds to explain that pre-IC, he tried to energize his tribe by giving them a pep-talk instead of pizza, and that the general response was: "I’ll do my best, and now, leave me the fuck alone with your positive thinking bullshit."

Courtney rolls her eyes. Jeff wants to know why.

Courtney: Coach wanted to eat, so he picked the A-squad to compete in the reward instead of the immunity challenge. And by keeping the weakest people for the IC, he knew that should we lose, he’d have them to blame.

Coach: Are you saying I’m demoralizing the team?

Courtney: What?? I never said…

Jeff: That’s what I heard too.

Courtney: But…

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When asked what the fuck is going on with this shitty tribe, Parvati very matter-of-factly points out that since they aren’t as physically strong as the other tribe, if they keep getting physical challenges, they’ll just keep losing unless they pull their shit together.

Jeff: At his point, it’s clear you guys are making decisions based on alliances and imaginary merges. How moronic do you feel about that last one?

Courtney: Very. Especially now that everyone is on the "Let’s vote off the weak" bandwagon. And I’m the poster child for weak Survivor. (While saying that, Courtney raises her skeletal arms and everyone nods in agreement.) But, I’m still here over a bunch of strong players, so twisted ankle, skinny chick, whatever, I’m a determined little bitch and I will put up with a lot of crap to get to end.

Excuse me for a moment while I give Courtney a standing ovation. That was a wonderful, brutally honest little speech. Gotta, love Courtney for her interviews, chica’s a hoot. My other chica Sandra’s impressed too and they exchange a fist bump while I barely keep myself from cheering: "Go, weak!"

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Jeff moves on to Mr. Egomaniac who states that in order for the Villains to get out of the hole they dug for themselves, they need to keep the tribe strong (fail) and keep the trust in place (re-fail). Courtney frowns. So do I. This dude is so full of shit he’s almost turning it into an art form. Unbelievable.

He adds in a barely circumvoluted way that he’s voting for Courtney.

Since he doesn’t want to see his boyfriend Coach go home, Jeff very happy with that answer, quickly announces that it’s time to vote, before the Hobbit has another change of heart.

Coach votes for Courtney. Courtney votes for coach and calls him a "freakin’ lunatic" in the process. Boy, I hope this girl sticks around. At this point, I can only count on her and Sandra to provide me with some comic relief. The others are either hopelessly boring, infuriatingly stupid, or so full of "him"self that he makes Spencer Pratt seem humble in comparison.

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Time for Jeff to read the votes:

Two for Coach. Three for Courtney. One: "No, no, no, no, no" from me.

One more vote for Coach. I stop breathing, just in case it may help make Coach go away.

And guess what?? It works!

As he’s about to read the last vote, Jeff’s eyes fill up with tears. Between two sobs, he manages to articulate: "9th person voted out of Survivor HvsV: Coach." After a short pause, he quickly wipes his cheeks, looks straight into the camera and adds: "And the first member of our jury."

The Survivors all stare at Jeff, wide-eyed. Off camera, someone angrily yells in a British accent: "JURY??? WTF is he doing?" Hurried footsteps are heard. Mark Burnett appears, grabs Jeff by the wrist and drags him in a corner away from the others.

Mark Burnett: Have you gone crazy? Jury? There are twelve players left, you twat! You announced it two weeks too early! What the hell were you thinking?

Jeff: I can’t take it anymore, Mark. Losing Boston Rob last week was heartbreaking enough. There’s no way I can make it through the rest of this season without Coach too. If he goes home, I quit, it’s that simple.

Mark Burnett: But Jeff…

Jeff: There’s no "but", Mark. If you don’t leave me Coach, I’m done with this show. Plus, look on the bright side, a bigger jury means a longer finale, thus more commercials, thus more advertising money. Bottom line: you get even richer than you already are, I get to keep my boyfriend here with me, and we’re both happy. So? Deal?

Mark Burnett: I would have preferred you stuck to the initial schedule, but…

Jeff: How the hell was I supposed to know that these morons would keep Courtney over Tyson, Boston Rob and Coach??? That goes against all logic!

Mark Burnett: Good point. They really are imbeciles. Anyway, I…

Coach: Ahem… So, can anyone tell me what’s going on? Am I going home, staying here, did I make the jury? The Dragon Slayer is confused…

Mark Burnett: Fine, Jeff, you win this time. I don’t know what it is that you love so much about this guy, but that’s your business. However, pull another one like this, and next season, I’m replacing you with Ryan Seacrest. I heard he may be jobless after this season of Idol.

Jeff: As if you could afford Ryan Seacrest…

Mark: After our upcoming five hours long finale and our three hours long reunion show, I might. Don’t get up on your high horse just yet, Jeff, remember who’s boss here. I gave you this show, and I can it away. (© 2005 Al Gore. If you don’t get the reference, look it up.)

Jeff: Yes, Mark. I promise I’ll be good from now on. As long as I have Coach with me, I’ll be happy and I’ll behave myself.

Mark Burnett: That’s a good boy. Alright then, I’m out of here. You may resume TC. Ta!

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Coach: So?

Jeff: Darling, you’re staying!

Coach jumps in Jeff’s arms and they hug for like a minute and a half. Courtney rolls her eyes so hard she loses her balance and falls over backwards, twisting her other ankle in the process. While Sandra helps her up, Coach and Jeff are excitedly whispering at one another:

Coach: So I’ll just have a quick shower and meet you at the spa, right?

Jeff: Unless you prefer to have dinner first?

Coach: Can they serve us dinner at the spa?

Jeff: Oh, that’s a great idea! Then we can go back to my trailer and watch a movie, or play video games. I have "Rockband: the Beatles"!

Coach: Do you have "Fable"? I love that game! Especially the second one!

Jeff: No, unfortunately, I don’t. I’ll ask the crew, maybe one of them has it. Anyway, I better finish this. You go do your confessional and get cleaned up, and I’ll see you in a little while. Oh, I’m so happy that you’re staying here with me!

Coach winks at Jeff, and walks away. Jeff walks backward to the middle of the TC area, all the while waving at Coach, and then turns around to face the remaining Survivors. Surprise! The bench in front of him is empty. Bored and feeling like a bunch of third wheels, the Villains took off.

Jeff looks around, shrugs, then runs in the direction Coach left, shouting: "Coach! Coach! Wait for me, we’re all done here! Coach!"

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Next week on Survivor, we will witness a move that is presumably dumber than James’, Jason’s and Erik’s all rolled up together. I’m looking forward to that.

In his final confessional, Coach explains that he never thought he was gonna get the boot, and that it’s a shame because there was so much he still wanted to accomplish, prove, redeem, blah-blah-blah. Yeah, whatever.

As for me, I’m ecstatic and feeling somehow vindicated from the loss of Boston Rob. As an added bonus, I won’t have to put up with Coach’s wishy-washy bullshit for a good two months.

But the best part definitely was Parvati and Danielle voting for Coach instead of, as instructed by the self-proclaimed puppetmaster, Courtney. That makes me really, really happy. Seeing Russell’s gigantic ego suffering a first blow was so satisfying that I’m almost liking him right now. So, because I’m in a such a good mood, I’m gonna do something nice for him: I’m dropping the quotation marks and bitchy nicknames and will, from now on call him by his actual name.

Peace out Russell!

As for the rest of you, I’ll see you at the next recap, if I ever manage to write it. Ciao!

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So I’ve decided I would tackle the task of recapping two shows simultaneously, even though we all know I can barely keep up with one for more than 6 weeks. But hey, I’m feeling ambitious tonight. (Please take note that my ambition may not extend beyond tonight.)

As I was mentioning in my last post, I’m currently obsessed with Survivor (nothing new here) and Celebrity Apprentice.

Survivor, because it’s awesome, and the Trump circus, because this season happens to be very entertaining. How could it not be with characters like Sharon Osbourne, Cyndi Lauper and Bret Michaels?

Unfortunately, Celebrity Apprentice suffered a tragic blow last week, when it lost the wonderful ex-Governor of Illinois Rod Blagojevich, who fell under the axe of his own incompetence. And people are saying Cyndi Lauper is spaced out?

Anyway, in honour of the Governor and in memory of all the precious moments of laughter he gave me, I decided to recap the episode he was on, even though it aired a week ago and I now have my Survivor post to write too (double-recapping, remember? Thank God my good intentions never last long…!)

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We start off with the women sitting in the suite, waiting to see which one of the guys Trump fired. None, it turns out. Daryl Strawberry apparently told Trump to shove his fucking show up his ass and left in a huff, knocking down chairs on his way out.

I personally don’t remember any of this because I fell asleep before the end of that episode, but I’m willing to believe it.

The men have barely walked into the suite that the phone rings, beckoning the lot of them to immediately head to the boardroom. Michael grimaces: "What, already? But I didn’t even get to tell everybody what a quitter I though Daryl was! And by the way, whatever our next task is, I think Blago should be the Project Manager."

Trump asks the teams who they choose as Project Managers. Michael immediately points at Blago, who’s all: "Who? Me? But Why? What if it involves integrity?" Michael interviews that he picked Blago because he’s the only person on his team who’s sucked more than himself so far. He adds that he’s a big fan of Survivor and explains: "I don’t see why the strategies used to win Survivor shouldn’t work on Celebrity Apprentice. After all, they’re both produced by Mark Burnett. And we all know that once you’ve seen a Mark Burnett show, you’ve seen them all".

At the other end of the table, Selita timidly raises her hand. "I… Ahem… I want to be Project Manager."

Everyone turns around to stare at her in disbelief.

Trumps says: "Are you sure, darling?"

Selita: "Yes, yes, I can do it."

Trump then announces that tomorrow, they’ll be flying to an undisclosed destination within the continental United States, as to accomodate the Governor who’s not allowed to leave the country, in case he tries to sell it to foreigners (seems like it would be a logical progression from trying to sell senate seats). They’re all squeaking with joy like little kids, which I personally find pathetic.These people are supposed to be CELEBRITIES and they get all excited at the idea of being flown elsewhere in their OWN COUNTRY? Fuck me.

But there’s a "catch". (Cue Michael rolling his eyes.) The ever-predictable Mark Burnett decided to throw a twist in Celebrity Apprentice, exactly like he always does on Survivor: for the first time in the history of the Apprentice, the Project Managers will be separated from the rest of their team and will be flying solo to Orlando, via private jet. Because we can always use an extra plane carrying two people to help melt these most tenacious glaciers.

(Note: from now on, I shall use "PM" for "Project Manager" for reasons that should be self-explanatory.)

After that, Trump dismisses both teams without telling them what their task is about.

Back in their respective suites, Selita and Blago each organize a pep-talk. Selita is certain her girls will do a great job in spite of the presence of Cyndi Lauper and Sharon Osborne a couple of bitches on her team.

On Rocksolid, Blago grabs Bret by the bandana and drags him in a corner: "Man, you got my back?"

Bret: Dude! My hair! Careful!… Anyway, sure I got your back!

Blago: You’re gonna work hard?

Bret: Sure I’m gonna work hard, I always do. I’m the only winning PM on this team, remember?

Blago: Yeah, I remember. Why do you think I’m asking you all this for?

Curtis: I have a feeling of impending doom….

Michael and Bill: So do we…

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At 5am, Selita and Blago are woken up by a limo honking furiously below their windows. On their way to what must undoubtedly be an airport, Blago asks: "Why the hell did you volunteer to be PM? Are you crazy?

Selita: No, I’m a model.

Blago: Oh, I see. You want to prove that it’s not because you’re beautiful that you’re dumb… Right?

Selita: Yeah, sorta… Although now that I’m stuck in this car with you, I’m starting to question that thought process…

Blago: Hmmm…? I’m sorry, I was dozing off… It’s still very early… I’m gonna take a nap, I think…Mind waking me up when we get to the airport?.. You’re a trooper, thanks…

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Selita and Blago are sitting on the private jet, as Trump’s ugly mug appears on a flat screen I can only wish I could afford. He says:

"You are flying to the Universal Orlando resort, where some greedy bastards such as myself are banking on spoilt brats to make us richer by selling them an attraction called "The Wizarding World of Harry Potter". There, you’re going there to meet up with executives and gather information… blah-blah-blah…

Your task is to put together an interactive 3D display in order to create a buzz about the attraction among Harry Potter fans. You’ll have to communicate to your teammates in NY the information you gathered and your instructions. At the end of the tour, you’ll fly back and rejoin them.

You will then present your display to a group of Harry Potter fans, and if they don’t like it, they’ll fry you with their toy tasers. Oh, and the Universal executives will also put in their two cents and ridicule you on national TV if you suck.

Since my kids – my usual "eyes and ears" – are grounded tonight, I dragged old George (yeay, George!) from out of the mothballs, and selected lovely Erin here, to play the part of my hot daughter.

One last thing: if I see one of you two using an electronic device to try and communicate with your team before landing, you’re getting thrown off the plane. Have a nice flight."

Blago gets up, walks to the TV, looks behind it: "He’s gone."

Selita: Who?

Blago: Trump. He just vanished.

Selita: What the…

Blago: Hey, what did he mean by "electronic device"?

Selita: What the…

Blago: I’m tired, I’m gonna take a nap. Do you mind waking me up when we get to wherever it is we’re going? You’re a trooper, thanks.

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The Oprah moment:

On the previous episode, Summer won $20.000 for her charity, Right to Play. On this episode, she brings them the cheque.

It’s wonderful and everyone is very happy.

(I apologize for my very poor Oprah imitation. I’m cold-hearted bitch with a strong aversion for soppy shit.)

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Back in New-York, the men wake up and they’re walking around the suite all like: "Huh? Where’s Rod, man?"

And then all go back to bed.

Over at Tenacity, Cyndi gathers the ladies:

"You guys, I’ve just seen an infomercial, and they had this board that you can write on, and then you can erase it with a wet cloth. They were showing people using it in meetings and all, and they wrote lists of tasks on there, so it gave me an idea… [..] but my phone was out of batteries, so I… [...] took the elevator down to the lobby… [...] and they delivered it in an hour. I was very impressed so I gave him a big tip. Here it is, the Magic Eraser Board. Only 20 bucks. What do you guys think?"

Everyone: …

Holly: Well…

Cyndi (confessional): I don’t really like Holly. I find her bossy."

Holly (confessional): Cyndi’s crazy. If Trump doesn’t fire her, I will.

Sharon Osbourne (not confessional at all): Holly, you’re a bitch. Leave Cyndi the fuck alone. She has more talent in her big toe than you do in your entire person. Plus I find this show terribly boring, and she at least keeps me awake, unlike the rest of you who are as entertaining to watch as ice melting. (Note: Ice melting just a little bit faster now, thanks to the contribution of Trump’s private jet containing TWO miserable passengers. Just sayin’.) So back off her or I’m passing whatever sickness it is that I have on to you, awlright?

Holly (confessional): Man, Sharon is a psycho! Never in my life would I have ever thought that one day, I’d feel sorry for Ozzy Osbourne!

.

Over at Rocksolid, the guys are getting up. While Bret makes toasts and Bill prepares coffee, Michael checks their email and Curtis, their messages and texts. Nothing.

They all look at one another. Bret unplugs the toaster (plugged toasters are a phobia of his) and they all go back to bed.

However, about two minute later, Curtis tiptoes out of his room and sits in front of the camera:

"There’s something on my mind: Rod. Last night, I had a dream that he was a technological retard. Then during my morning nap, I had the same dream again. Then while waiting in line for the bathroom, I was talking to Bill, and so did he! Weird, huh?

But now, I’m worried that it may not be a dream, but something he actually told us, and we just weren’t listening to him. You can only listen to Rod for so long before you start feeling dizzy. Nonetheless, the idea of Rod not being able to email or text is very…"

All of a sudden, Michael appears, grabs Curtis by the shoulders and yells in his face: "Are you fucking serious? Rod can’t email?"

This prompts Bill and Bret, who were passing by, to chuckle to one another: "Pfft! Who can’t email in this day and age?!"

.

Aboard the gas-guzzling private jet, Governor Blagojevich is bored and Selita is too busy working to play with him. So he decides to investigate the strange tray the stewardess gave him at the beginning of the flight. After 30 minutes, he figures out that the tray opens up, but SURPRISE! Inside, there’s no food, but a screen with Trump’s ugly mug on it, as well a small shiny frisbee, probably a free gift from a company called "DVD-Rom".

Blago knocks on the screen a few times, then shouts "Trump? Are you there?" into a little hole on the side of the tray. No answer. Since Trump’s not in there, he determines there’s not much he can do, so he decides to have a quick nap in order to be fresh and well-rested for Orlando.

A few seats behind, Selita points at him, then turns back to the camera and makes a thumbs-down sign while flashing a devilish grin.

Back over at Rocksolid, the men are all gathered around the phone, silent. It rings. Then stops. A few minutes later, it rings again. Blago’s voice crackles through the speaker: "Hello? Trump Tower? Guys? Can you hear me?"

The guys are all: "Yeah, how’s it hanging, Rod? Where are you?"

Blago is seen, standing in front of a pay phone: "I’m not sure, I slept for the whole flight. But there are palm trees everywhere, so I’d say either Florida or California. Anyway, I wanted to ask you, do you guys know what a 3D display is?

Crickets are heard in the men’s suite while they’re all exchanging looks of disbelief. Disgusted, Michael hangs up on Blago. A minute later, the phone rings again.

Blago: "I think we got cut off. I hope it won’t happen again cos’ I’m down to my last quarter. Is Bret around? Bret, are you here, my man? I have a task for you.

Bret: Yeah, I’m here. Shoot. What do you want me to do?

Blago: Would you mind being PM in New York while I’m in… wherever the hell this place is?

Bret: What do you mean? What exactly are you putting me in charge of?

Blago: Everything. Ooops, my time’s ran out, I think we’re going to be cut o…"

The phone goes dead. The men look mortified. Curtis murmurs: "This isn’t good."

Bret quips back: "Tell me about it."

.

At Tenacity, the women are making a wise use of their time by squabbling some more. And by "the women" I mean Cyndi and Holly.

Holly: I just wanted to tell you, I’m not here to be entertaining, I’m here to make money for my charity.

Cyndi: So are the rest of us.

Holly: Yeah, but my charity is autism.

Cyndi: Ya, aaand? What’s your point?

Holly: My point is that autism is a devastating illness and…

Sharon: You are all a bunch of useless cows. Except Cyndi, who is awesome. I’m going back to bed. Wake me up if anything comes up. Ta!

Maria gets up: "I’m going for a walk. See you in a bit."

Outside, Maria interviews: "I think there’s some kind of tension up there. Sharon and Cyndi have bonded, and Holly and Summer have bonded. And I, not having bonded with anyone, am stuck in the middle and I don’t like it. I’m thinking of throwing on a blonde wig and a bandana and go over to the men pretending to be Bret. Problem is, how do I hide my boobs?"

.

Back in Orlando, Rod and Selita are whisked into an obscenely large black car. Immediately, Selita pulls out her cell phone and starts texting. Blago leans over, curious: "Whatcha doin’?"

Selita: I ain’t telling you shit.

Blago: Whoa, defensive much? Has anyone ever told you that you’re very pretty? Anyway, what’s this thing you’re holding there? A deck of cards?

Selita rolls her eyes: Boy, you’re a nuisance. Can you please shut up, I’m trying to text my team here…

Blago: Tex… whaaa? Oh, look at that beautiful scenery, isn’t that wonderful?

Selita, exasperated, curls up in a fetal position, two fingers firmly pushed in her ears.

.

We go back to New York, where all the ladies except from Holly are huddled up around the computer, laughing their asses off. Turns out that Selita has made a YouTube compilation of different videos she took of Blago trying to use a laptop, a cell, a Crackberry and a public toilet.

Holly says: "We got mail, you guys." Seems like between two giggles at Blago’s expense, Selita found the time to do some work.

.

Rod and Selita’s stupinormous car drops them off at Universal, where a casually dressed suit welcomes them and takes them for the tour of the Harry Potter thing. To be quite honest, I couldn’t care less about Harry Potter and his Wizarding World, so you don’t mind if I fast-forward over this part?

Rod loves it because it’s a fantasy world he admits wishing he could live in permanently. Personally, after being exposed to Blago for a few hours, all thanks to Donald Trump, I can now see how that would be. Rod himself is about as unreal and out of this world as the Harry Potter universe is, so I guess he can relate.

As for Selita, she’s strolling around wearing a witch’s hat and taking pictures of everything that either moves or doesn’t.

After the tour, the two are invited to stuff as many promotional items as they can in big bags, a bit like on that game show where you’re let loose in a grocery store and have a minute to grab as much shit as you can before the clock runs out (and if you ever play in that game show, I have one word for you: electronics.)

.

Meanwhile on Rocksolid, Bret has taken a hit of acid that is just kicking in as we head back to New-York. All of a sudden, he’s seeing "it". The concept, I mean. For the Harry Potter thing. Jeez are you following the story or not?

If you aren’t, you’re not alone. From the puzzled look on Bret’s teammates’ faces, I gather they don’t have a clue what the heck he’s going on about.

What follows is a back and forth between the two teams who are doing their best to brainstorm in the dark (especially the men). The ladies have at least the sketches and guidelines Selita sends them on a regular basis, via what Blago probably considers as magic, but that the rest of us know under the name of "technology".

Curtis and Michael interview that Bret is a confused and confusing motherfucker who’s unable to communicate clearly the ideas brewing under his colourful bandana. Maria complains about there being "too many cooks in the kitchen" and probably has a point, even though the women at least seem to be working together in trying to come up with a concept, unlike the men who are all standing around Bret, looking at him as if he was a circus freak.

.

In Orlando, Selita is seen on the phone with her teammates, listening to the ideas they came up with. Outside, another camera follows Blago, who’s walking the streets in quest of a working pay phone. He finally spots one, but as he’s frantically searching his pockets, he remembers he’s all out of quarters. He proceeds to beg change from passers-by. Meanwhile, in Illinois, several people throw a rock at their television as they’re wondering why in heaven they ever voted for this bumbling idiot.

After what seems to be a long time, a bum finally approaches Blago and hands him a quarter, then turns to the camera to say: "I may not have much, but I cannot help but feel sorry for the mentally challenged." Somewhere in New York, the casting agent for the next installment of the Apprentice makes a note of "trying to find that uncommonly discerning homeless person who gave a quarter to Blago in Orlando."

Curtis’s phone rings. It’s Blago on the line: "Hi, who am I speaking to? Is this Bret?"

Curtis passes the phone to Bret while rolling his eyes and whispers to Michael: "He thought I was Bret. Guess he hadn’t noticed my subtle British accent. What a twat." Michael chuckles.

Bret however, isn’t chuckling at all. "What did you just say? You’ll have my back when we go to the boardroom? But I don’t wanna go to the boardroom!"

Blago: Listen Bret, it’s pretty obvious that with me as a PM, we’re going to lose this task. I might be a politician, but I know my limitations: if I failed as the Governor of Illinois, which is the easiest job in the world after Trump’s, I’m surely going to fail at this Henry Spotter project. Forget about it. If you don’t want to do this, it’s fine with me. In that case, take the rest of the day off and on the flight back, I’ll just try to think of a good excuse for the boardroom. Coming up with excuses is one of my few skills. Ooops, my quarter has ran out, see you in New York! Oh, and I’m bringing swag back!

He hangs up. Rocksolid isn’t looking too solid to me right now. The guys are standing there, all: "Is he serious? So what do we do now? Try to come up with something, *anything*, or should we just start rehearsing for the boardroom?"

Curtis replies: "We could do both. I’m sure we can learn our boardroom lines while doing some manual work…"

Bret: Great idea, I second that. So here’s what I thought: since Harry Potter takes place in and around a castle, I think that’s what we should build. And since Harry Potter is a series of books, we should have a library. That way, we’ll at least get brownie points from J.K. Rawlings, if not from the Universal execs. And while we’re helping the carpenters build all the stuff, we can work on our lines. How’s that?

Bret’s teammates seem a tad skeptical, but they’re willing to go along with him. The carpenters however, are well impressed by Bret’s sense of initiative. "I thought that guy was a clown, but now that I’ve found out he is working under Blago, I have the deepest respect for him. Hey, I’m from Chicago, I know the score!"

.

It’s now time for the PMs to fly back to New York. On the way to the airport, while they’re waiting at a red light, Rod leans forward and asks the driver: "Excuse me Sir, do you have a cell phone I could borrow? Mine is broken." The driver hands him a cell. Blago looks at it, then hands it back: "Excuse me Sir, would you mind dialing a number for me? It seems like my glasses are also broken." Selita gives him a sidelong glance, chuckles, then goes back to her sketches and notes and drawings and texting.

Curtis’s phone rings: "Hey, it’s Rod! How are you guys doing?"

Curtis: We’re doing alright actually. Bret has come up with some plans and what we’ve built so far looks pretty good.

Blago: Hey, guess what? Do you know where I’m calling you from?

Curtis: No, where are you?

Blago: I’m in a CAR! I’m calling you from a cell phone!! These things are AMAZING! I might buy one when I get back. Will you show me out to use it? Selita, who’s sitting beside me didn’t want to. Oh, we’re going into a tunnel, this is…"

Curtis looks at his phone, then at this teammates in disbelief. "I have no comment", he says. "Let’s get back to work."

.

Aboard the atmosphere-destroying private jet flying the PMs back to New-york, Selita takes quick a break from brainwashing herself with the Harry Potter Wizardry thingamajig DVD to call the stewardess: "I’m sorry to bother you, but would you happen to have a clothespin, by any chance?"

The stewardess looks at her: "A clothespin? What for?"

Selita points at Blago who is fast asleep: "He’s been snoring since we took off. I kicked him a couple of times, to no avail. I’m *that* far from trying to choke him to death with one of these expensive-looking cushions. Help me, please."

The stewardess replies: "I feel your pain. My ex-husband is a snorer too. After a a year and a half, I asked that we slept in separate bedrooms, and things went downhill from there. I…."

Selita sighs: "Please. I beg you."

The stewardess nods, then says: "I don’t have any clothespins, but I can give you earphones."

.

In New-York, we find out that not all the members of Tenacity is as tenacious as their name proclaims. Sharon Osbourne, still sick from that episode we saw over two weeks ago now, is wandering around, coughing on everything and everyone, including on Trump’s "eyes and ears", George, who has just come in to see how the ladies were doing.

In spite of Sharon spitting bits of stuff left and right, George is very impressed by the women’s impression of "cool, calm and collected." If only he knew… He calls their concept: "boawld" but seems hesitant as whether or not "they can pull it oawff". Love George, love his accent! He should totally replace Trump!

It’s now the men’s turn to get a visit from Trump’s eyes and ears. However, in Bret’s mind, it wasn’t so much "eyes and ears" as "tits and ass". As soon as Erin walks into the room, Bret runs out, muttering something under his breath. Then we see him, stepping out of the bathroom while buttoning his pants with trembling hands. He interviews:

"As soon as I saw Erin, I had this crazy erection, and since I go commando, it was pretty obvious. I didn’t want to come across as a horny pervert, so I ran to the bathroom, threw a bucket of cold water at my penis and put on some briefs under my jeans. I think I’ll be OK now. I’d better go."

Bret explains in minutiae details his concept to Erin, but she’s not listening to him: "Yeah, yeah, very nice. Now give me the dirt. You all look like a bunch a sad puppies, except from Bret who’s babbling like a coke head while trying to hit on me. By the way, I’m very flattered, Bret, but from what you told me, I think I will decline your offer to be a contestant on Rock of Love 4. But thanks for asking. Now back on topic: what’s going in here? My female intuition tells me something other than Bret’s "instrument" is up. What is it?"

The guys all look down at their shoes.

Erin: I can tell that you want to speak about it. Come on, you can talk to me… I promise it will stay between you, me the cameras, and soon, millions of viewers… So, wanna tell Erin what’s going on…?

Immediately, the guys all start talking at the same time:

Bill: It’s Rod, Ma’am, he’s useless!

Michael: He didn’t give any of us anything specific to do, nor did he relay any useful information about the project!

Bret: He basically put me in charge of everything, so if we fail, my head’s on the chopping block. Although he did say he’d have my back if we lost. Whatever that means. He’s a politician after all.

Curtis: And he’s technological retard. He can’t even use a computer!

Erin: You mean he… he can’t email?

All the guys: NO!

Erin: What an idiot!

All the guys: TELL US ABOUT IT!

Erin leaves, then interviews that should the men lose, the axe will surely fall on either Bret or Rod. She adds that she’s considering maybe just auditioning for Rock of Love 4 after all, just to see what an audition is like.

.

Then for the next minute and 34 seconds, we see the teams working hard and seeming happy with what they’ve achieved. Bo-ring!

.

The PMs are back in New York and about to rejoin their teams.

Rod walks in on Bret and Bill busy painting brown everything they can get their hands on and that’s not attached to a wall or the floor. He stops, in shock: "Oh my God?! You guys actually have done some work on this?! That’s fantastic! Very good, very, very good! Keep it up! I’m gonna go and have a quick nap, I’m exhausted from the trip and the jet lag. See you in a bit."

And he walks out before Bret and Bill have the time to point out that New-York and Orlando are in the same time zone.

He enters the office, and then pauses, mortified. He interviews: "I couldn’t believe what I saw in there: Curtis and Michael, sitting down, wasting time eating dinner. DINNER! And not just dinner, RIBS too! I was appalled. They didn’t even offer me any. Am I the PM or not? I’ll get them for that."

.

Selita’s return to her team is greeted with mucho enthusiasm. The women are all excited to see her and to show them what they’ve done. Selita rejects a few of their ideas, arguing (rightly) that she was the only one to meet with the execs, thus the one with the best grasp of what they want. Then each lady is assigned a role for the following day’s presentation.

From what I’ve seen so far, it seems to me that Selita has done a very fine job as PM. She’s firm in her decisions, yet gave me the impression of listening to her teammates. She also strikes me as a hard worker (she did take charge of the cooking in their very first task; I know I would have completely freaked out in that kitchen, but she kept her shit together.) Good for her, I give her props.

.

On Rocksolid, Rod wakes up from his nap all fresh and perky and goes to see how his team is going. As soon as he walks in, they surround him: "Rod? How do you want to do the presentation?"

Blago: Presentation? What presentation?

The guys: Tomorrow’s presentation, for the Universal execs and the focus group.

Blago: Oh, that… Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’ll think of a key message to explain the whole concept, I’ll sleep on it and if I don’t like it in the morning, I’ll come up with another one. As for the presentation, I have candy and other knick-knacks for the kids, so we’ll just give ’em that, goof around and have a good time.

Michael: But shouldn’t we write stuff down, so that we know who does what?

Blago: I don’t have a pen so we can’t write anything down. Anyway, I think we should just improvise. It’ll be more natural that way. Kids can tell when something is scripted. Anyway, I have an idea I need to sleep on, so I’ll see y’all later.

.

The following morning, it’s raining. We’re shown a shot of the cutest little dog wearing the cutest little yellow raincoat. It’s so sweet that I could throw up. Seriously, best moment of the entire episode.

In the van taking them to the presentation space, Bret is brainstorming like crazy, with Bill throwing in the odd bit of feedback here and there. Once in a while, Rod, sitting behind them, interrupts Bret to tell him his ideas sucks and that he should come up with other ones. At a red light, an exasperated Bret opens the door and steps out:

"I’m walking" he says.

Bill opens the other door: "I’ll walk with ya."

The Governor is flabbergasted, but seeing the opportunity for a last pre-presentation nap, closes his eyes and dozes off.

Meanwhile, Michael and Curtis are in charge of picking up some props for their display. They gather a few Harry-Potter-ish items, then call Blago to ask him if he approves of them and if there’s anything else he wants them to pick up.

Blago: " You should have given me some notice, as I haven’t had a chance to sleep on that idea yet. And it doesn’t look like I’ll have time to until the presentation. so my suggestion to you is: use your judgment. Anything you think looks good, take it. K, bye. And stop calling every 5 minutes, please, it’s annoying."

Michael and Curtis exchange a look. "What a dipshit! I can’t believe this guy! And he was Governor?! LMAO!"

After hanging up on Michael and Curtis, the "Governor" decides it’s time to go bully Bret and Bill some more. Just as Bret is done stapling a picture of the Universal attraction in one of the castle’s fake windows, Rod tears if off. "I don’t like this. It’s fugly."

Bret: But are we going to put there?

blago: I don’t know. Come up with something. I put you in charge of creative, remember? It’s your job to have ideas."

Bret takes a deep breath, and storms toward the bathroom, where he interviews, while pulling a tiny plastic bag out of his jeans pocket: "I’ve stopped using years ago, but last night, after I left that strip club, when that kid asked me if I wanted to buy ecstasy, I just had this voice in my head that said: "Just do it!" And I’m glad I did. This baby is the only thing that’s gonna keep me from headbutting Rod. He’s driving everyone nuts."

.

Over at Tenacity, a cloaked Sharon welcomes the kids who are going to judge their display. Selita and her witch hat then take over. I don’t know what the fuck Selita was going on about, because I was too stunned to hear a British accent that’s worse than mine to actually listen to what she was saying.

Selita interviews that if anyone in the room can do a worse British accent than her, please stand up.

I remain seated while she explains that if she’s walking a runway and one of her boobs threatens to pop out, she tucks it back in and keeps walking. Wannabe Victoria’s Secret models, take note. Keep your boobs tucked in and don’t try to talk with a British accent unless you really have to.

And in this case, Selita didn’t have to, because she had an actual British person standing right next to her. I can only assume that she decided to do the intro herself as to have an excuse to tell her little Victoria’s Secret model anecdote.

Then, in a impeccable British accent and a perfectly fitting raspy voice, Sharon summons one of the kids to enter their smoke and mirrors and papier-mâché castle.

Once inside, the kid is welcome by a black-clad Cyndi who repeats twice each one of her lines: "Don’t look at me! Look at the screen! Muggles and wizards! Come this way!" For some reason I’m not clear on, her character seems to get on Sharon’s nerves.

The kid is then whisked into the next room, occupied by Maria-the-human-magic-wand-vending-machine. What I really liked about that part, was the very-low tech but efficient "special effect" the women used to give the impression that the boxes piled up against the inside of the wall were flying off the shelves. On the other side, Summer was poking various boxes with a broomstick. Basic, but clever. I know zip about Harry Potter, but I’m aware that it’s about wizards and that wizards are spooky; and so are flying boxes. It worked well with the theme, nice touch.

As the kids are given their wand, a fan and a smoke machine are turned on the wind starts blowing and fog appears. I cannot help but notice that one of the "kids" has bigger boobs than me. And no, yours truly ain’t exactly flat. However, in my time, kids were.

At the exit, the kids are greeted by Holly, also cloaked, who gives them a bunch of the goodies Selita raided from Universal.

All the women then gather in front of their display to thank everyone for coming to "the Wizarding world of Harry Potter", after which Sharon, always the businesswoman, hilariously adds "at Universal".

.

The focus group and execs then head to Rocksolid. Bret interviews that if the kids dont like their display, he’ll punch them in their obnoxious little faces. Then, dressed up as the singer from Poison, he makes a very matter-of-fact speech about the attraction, from the point of view of a father of two. I didn’t like it initially, but after rewatching it, I find it kinda works, though I liked the women’s intro better, shitty British accents and all.

"Professor Curtis" (doing a good job) then steps out of the castle to bring he kids one by one to "the Governor", who welcomes them in a perfect Chicago accent. However, at this point, I’m not clear on what’s going on in there. If I didn’t hear Blago babbling, I’d swear he’s fallen asleep on the "on" button of the smoke machine.

The smoke clears just long enough for me to identify Bill as a talking tree. But when the kids wave their wand on front of him, Bill shows his versatility by becoming a MOVING tree! Oh, my, this is revolutionary! (I’m not a hardcore feminist or anything, but my vote for "best cheesy special effect" goes to the women’s flying boxes. By miles.)

Even Bret seems to have second thoughts about the moving tree idea, about Michael dressed up as an evil monk waiting for the kids at the castle’s exit, and most of all, about Professor Curtis’s catchphrases, such as: "I’ll let you use my wand just once".

After Curtis asks one of the kids: "Do you think you can take control of the wand?" Bret interviews hilariously: "Oh my God… All of us are going to prison after this creepy castle ride!" LOL!

Creepy or not, the kids seem to enjoy the display, and things appear to be going well. Too well; Blago decides the time has come to sabotage things a little. " We need more smoke. We can actually see stuff and people can breathe. I don’t like it. I want more smoke. Hear what I said? Pump that friggin’ smoke!"

Then he exists as the smoke invades the castle, asphyxiating Bill and Curtis.

One of Universal’s suits decides to check the display for himself. He enters the castle, and while trying to feel his way in the middle of all the smoke, he accidentally bumps into Curtis who asks: "Who goes there?" The smoke clears a bit, and upon recognizing the suit in front of him, Curtis frantically delivers his pitch about the attraction. The suit interrupts him: "Can you tell me more about the kind of rides you will find in the Wizarding World of…"

Seeing an opportunity to get his own back from Blago and his stupid obsession with smoke, balloons (see previous episode) and naps, Curtis turns around: "The Headmaster knows all about the rides! Governor! Governooooor, where are yooooouuu?"

Blago angrily shuffles in, elbowing Curtis on the way: "I’m not the Governor, moron, I’m the Headmaster!"

He then turns to the suit: "Hello, nice to meet you, Sir, name’s Rod Blagojevich, ex-Governor of Illinois and I’m innocent. What would you like to know? Oh, the ride? The ride is called the… Erm… The Dragon Slayer… I…"

Michael shouts from outside the castle: "No, the Dragon-Slayer is the nickname Coach gave to himself on Survivor. Am I the only one here who watches that show?"

Meanwhile, Blago has found the "on" button on the smoke machine and is furiously pumping it in the hopes of smoking the exec out of the castle. But the exec knows better and just stands there, chuckling silently.

Outside the castle, in the non-fogged up world of Not-Harry-Potter, Bret takes the kids to a table where all the Potter merchandise bagged by Rod is displayed and invites them to take what they want.

A cloaked figure then passes out a plate of candy to the kids and execs, as Bret thanks everyone for coming and reminds them that the real Wizarding World of Harry Potter will be WAY better than the debauchery (his actual word) they just witnessed. As the men exit, Bret interviews that their presentation was such a disaster that there’s a good chance they could win.

Once all the guys have left, the execs quiz the kids on which display they liked best. The general consensus seems to be that the women were more true to the story, knew the subject matter better and gave a better idea of what the Universal attraction was about. However, they found the men’s presentation more entertaining and energetic than the women’s.

.

Boardroom time! The very reason why I started to recap this stupid show in the first place! I just couldn’t wait to write the "transcript" of the dialogue that took place in there! So here we go!

Trump: Governor, did you win?

Blago: I used to be the Governor of Illinois, so I [...] never anticipate [...] could have happened so [...] but it coulda been worse.

Trump: What did you think of your team?

Blago: I thought they were great. And Bret.was a superstar.

Trump: Is he the best in the team?

Blago: From what I’ve seen, Bret [...] best creative grasp on [...] very talented [...] excellent initiative…

Trump: OK, OK, I got it… Bret? How was the Governor?

Bret: I thought he did a great job at leaving us alone and giving us – and by "us", I mean "me" – complete and total and utter freedom to complete the project in his absence, and then in his presence. He also has great delegational skills.

Michael, for some weird reason, is standing up behind the other guys, which makes it look like he’s looming over them, which he totally is. He’s also visibly disagreeing 100% with everything that’s been said so far.

Anyhoo, what I want to know is: how come Trump doesn’t have a table big enough to sit 11 people, and since he apparently doesn’t, why the fuck doesn’t he purchase half-a-dozen of those folding chairs from Ikea? I have one, and they’re great.

Back in the boardroom, Trump notices Michael’s agitation. "What do you think?" he asks.

Michael: I’m with Bret on one point: Rod was great at delegating. Two problems though: #1: He only delegated to Bret, leaving the rest of us with no specific tasks to accomplish, and #2: Delegating to Bret is the only thing he did during the whole task.

Trump: Goldberg? You’re a talkative guy, I’m sure you know a lot about communication. How do you think your PM handled that part, what with him being in Florida and you here?

Bill: It was… difficult.

Looming Michael chuckles in the back row. Bret leans over to Bill and whispers: "Tell him."

Bill turns to Bret and yells in face: "Don’t tell me what the fuck to say! I’ll say what I want, got it, punk?!" Bret backs off, and Bill opens his mouth to speak again, but Curtis, who has been wriggling on his seat the whole time cannot contain himself any longer: "BLAGO CAN’T USE A COMPUTER!! HAHAHA!!"

Trump: You can’t use a computer???

The whole room breaks down. Geoawge is ROTF, Erin is LHAO while Cyndi is standing on the table singing "True Colours" in duet with Bret. This lasts for two good minutes, then Trump clears his throat and everyone promptly gets back into their previous positions and stares at Blago.

Blago: If you don’t mind, I’d like to explain myself a little bit. They’re all accusing me of not communicating, but it’s not true. Right off the bat, I communicated very clearly to Bret that I put him in charge of everything, and by everything, I meant "EVERYTHING", and I did just that. As for relaying information back to my team, it’s certainly not my fault if there aren’t enough pay phones in Orlando.

Trump: Erin, what did you think of the guys?

Erin: Hello Bret…! … Ahem… I… They… Oh, is it me or is it hot in here?… Hihi! I… Oh, yeah, the men… They were, well, you know… good… nice… polite…

Trump: ERIN!!!

Erin: Ahhhaargh! What the… You spooked the hell out of me! I… Oh, yes, yes, the men… Well, if you want my opinion, Rod’s to blame: can’t email, can’t text, can barely phone… Pathetic! I’d fire him right away. In fact I’d fire all of them and give Bret the job. … I…"

Everyone stares at Erin. Blago lets out a sigh of relief. Erin burst into tears and runs out of the room crying. Everyone stares back at Blago:

"What? Me again? What have I done?"

Everyone: Nothing! That’s the problem.

Trump then turns to the women, and addresses Selita, with whom he has a pleasant little exchange which goes well and in which she accurately described how they completed their task. All the women liked her as PM and everyone thought everyone else worked hard. Trump forcefully tries to push Selita’s buttons to get her to say something bitchy about one of the women, but she doesn’t budge and neither does any of the others.

During this drama-free discussion, Erin has quietly snuck back into the boardroom. Trump asks her what the execs thought of the men. She answers that both the execs and the kids enjoyed the overall display, but they conflicted over Bill’s talking tree, which the kids liked, but the execs didn’t. When summoned, George gives as evasive an answer as Erin just did.

Trump reveals the ladies won, wishes them well, then kicks them out fo the boardroom. And now the real fun begins!

.

Not. We join the women celebrating in the suite, all ecstatic. Lame. Happy people are boring. Let’s head back to the boardroom, where Michael finally got to sit down on one of the freshly vacated seats. Trump asks him if he’s surprised to be here.

Michael: Not at all. The second I nominated Rod for PM, I knew we were doomed, but most of all, I knew he was doomed, which is exactly what I wanted. He’s useless in challenges, but he’s likable and has a good social game. I want him voted out before the merge, cos’ he’ll be a threat after th…

Trump: Michael? Wrong show. This is Celebrity Apprentice, not Survivor.

George: I like Survivor. I’m rooting for Parvati! You?

Michael: Oh, you too?!! I’m r…

Trump: Ok, enough of this. Michael, who do you want to vote out?

Michael: I vote to evict Rod.

Geroge: I like Big Brother too.

Bill: Me too.

Trump: Michael, do you like Rod as a person?

Michael: I do, actually.

Trump: Me too. I like Rod a LOT. He’s an ex-politician who committed fraud and is awaiting trial. Ratings magnet.

.

Just a quick note, I might write a lot of bullshit, but I will abstain from "recapping" Trump’s little monologue about Blago not wanting to offend anyone on his team, since there could be blacks (Michael), Jews (Bill), wasps (Curtis), or diabetics (Bret) on Blago’s jury. Because that is bullshit even I can’t top.

Trump then proceeds to rhetorically suck Blago’s dick: "Governor, I find you very brave to come on my show. You are in a lot of trouble, and yet, you have the nerve to come here and keep up the bullshit. You are great. I really admire you and what you do for my ratings. Please stay. Please don’t make me fire you."

Blago responds with a loooong politician’s speech which I’ll not even bother with because even though I’m good at bullshit, I just cannot compete with a politician in that capacity.

During Blago’s tirade, Trump is visibly dozing off, as is everyone else. In a last attempt to fight off sleep, Trump shouts: "CURTIS?"

Curtis is all startled and:"What? What?"

Trump: Curtis, how was Bret?

Curtis: V…

Trump: But who running the task? Bret or Rod?

Curtis: Bret was.

Trump: Did he do a good job?

Curtis: Yes, he did.

Trump: In that case, wouldn’t you say it was great delegation on Rod’s part?

Curtis: Yes, but…

Trump: See, Rod? I just made you "great Delegator"! Don’t screw up now…! OK, everyone, how was Goldberg? Did he work hard?

Bret: He worked his butt off. He worked so hard he almost passed out.

Trump: Passed out? Passing out is pussy shit. Wimpy shit. Aren’t you supposed to be a tough guy?

Bill: I’m a celebrity, dude. I’m not used to do actual work. I’d like to see how you would fare on one of the tasks you give us. I bet you wouldn’t be much better than the "Governor" here…

Trump: Bill, you seem to forget an important thing. I’m the boss here. One more word from you and you’re fired. Got it?

Bill: Yes, sir.

Trump: Governor, you basically passed all of your duties on to Brett. Will you be bringing him back to the boardroom?

Blago: I will not.

Trump: WTF??? WHY not?

Blago: For one, because I thought he was good, and two, because I’m not an asshole. I might be the ex-Governor of Illinois and an innocent man, I’m not a complete dickhead. I said I’d have his back should we screw up, which they did, and I’m a man of my word. Plus, before we were even assigned the task, I already had two people picked for the final boardroom anyway.

Trump: Wh… What? Whom? Why? Dude!… Ok, tell me… who, other than Bret, does it MAKE SENSE TO BRING BACK HERE FOR CHRIST’S SAKE? GET YOUR HEAD TOGETHER AND SAY BRET! Please? With a pretty cherry on top…?

Blago: I choose to bring back Michael and Curtis.

Michael and Curtis: Why? What have we done?

Blago: You didn’t offer me a single rib after I got back from Orlando. Not one. Not even a bone. So rude…!

Trump: Michael, do you think he’s bringing you back because you’re black?

Michael: Not at all. I think he’s bringing me back because I repeatedly called him out on his BS. And also because we didn’t offer him any ribs. I’d like to apologize for that actually, it was a pretty shitty thing to do. I’d take someone back to the boardroom based on that myself, if you ask me.

Trump: How about you, Curtis?

Curtis: I’m disappointed too. But I could easily have whipped a meal together for him if he was hungry. I’m a chef, remember? As for coming back to the boardroom, I don’t give a shit, cos’ I know there’s no way in the world I’ll be fired.

.

Erin clears her throat: "According to the execs, you lost this task because of inconsistencies. You weren’t familiar enough with the subject matter and often used the wrong terms when describing the world of Harry Potter."

Geroge: Who the hell was in charge of the research for that thing?

All the guys look silently at Blago.

Blago: Can I just say a little something? I’m the Ex-Gov… [...] innocent until proven guilty [...] when I was a young boy [...] prostitute in a bar [...] funniest thing I ever saw in my life, and [...] she said iPhone, so I asked:"You what?" but she [...] Universal to see the Wizardringamajig world of Henr… erm, Harry Potter.

Trump: Beg pardon? The what?

Blago: The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

Trump: Wizarding.

Blago: Wizarding.

Trump: No, it’s wi-zar-ding.

Blago: That’s what I said. Wizarding.

Try: No, you said…

Bill: Enough already! He said wizarding, dammit! Guys, didn’t he said "wizarding"?

All the guys respond with a quick, awkward little nod, including George.

Bill: So what now? Are you gonna fire me, Trump? Huh, tough boy? Watcha gonna do?

Trump: I… ahem…Bill, you can leave. You seem a little… hum… on edge. I guess anyone would be after working hard to the point of almost passing out. You can go back to the suite and drink some champagne with the women. I wasn’t gonna fire you anyway. Go get some rest now, good bye.

Bill is a little surprised, but he doesn’t protest. He gets up, wishes everyone a good night, and exits.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Trump comments: "Boy, does this guy have a temper or what!! Is he always snippy like this? I’m gonna have to keep an eye on him. OK, Rod, are you done?"

Blago: Almost, just one last thing: I’m innocent. Oh, and I’m a nice guy. Just don’t hire me to work with computers, that’s all. Hehe!

Trump: OK, Rod, now that we’ve narrowed it down a little, are you still sure that you shouldn’t be bringing back to the boardroom the only person here whom you’re not bringing back to the boardroom but should?

All the guys: What?

George: I would still like to know who was in charge of the research…

Erin: Me too.

Blago: Well, I took charge of putting Bret in charge of everything, so he should have put some people in charge of that. But since he was in charge of everything else too, I guess he just forgot about it and no one bothered to remind him. And by no one, I mean Michael and Curtis.

Erin: But what with Bret being in charge of everything, shouldn’t he be responsible for not assigning anyone to that task?

Trump: Yeah, what she said!

Blago: Leave Bret alone. He didn’t do anything I told him to do because I didn’t tell him anything in the first place. What is it that you don’t understand?

Trump: I don’t want to understand, I want you to bring Bret back.

Blago: Ain’t gonna happen. Bret didn’t have any help other than Bill’s. And the whole time I was gone, instead of helping him, Michael and Curtis were stuffing their faces with ribs. If they had helped him, maybe we would have won.

Trump: I beseech you. Please bring Bret back to the boardroom.

Blago: No.

Trump: Please.

Bret: Hell, if I was in Rod’s boots, even I’d bring me back to the boardroom!

Trump: See? Bret wants to come back!

Bret: Hey, I didn’t say I want…

Trump: Sssshhh Bret. If you come back to the boardroom, I promise to set you up with Erin. I know you like her. So, do we have a deal?

Bret bursts out laughing! Haha! You think I waited for you to hit on her?! Hahaha! Let me tell you a little secret, Donald. Take a good look at Erin, future winner of Rock of Love 4!

Trump: What?

Erin: Yes, it’s true. This is my last season on the Apprentice, Donald. I’m quitting as soon as this is over, and in September, I’ll be on the cast of Rock of Love 4.

Bret: And by Thanksgiving, you’ll be in my pan… erm… famous. I meant you’ll be famous.

Trump sighs: "Wow. This is a rough night and a tough crowd. I’m SO going back to the regular Apprentice featuring regular Joes after this season. No more celebrities, too much attitude. I’m done with them. So, Bret: I’m asking you one last time, will you please-please-please come back to the boardroom? I’ll give $20.000 to your charity if you do. As well as a "I was on Celebrity Apprentice and all I got was this lousy bandana" bandana as a special gift to you. What do you say?"

Bret: Fine. Fine, I’ll come back. But you can keep your lousy bandana. Rod got me a much nicer one in Orlando. It says: "I went to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and all I got was fired."

Trump: Heard that, Rod? Bret wants to come back.

Blago: Fine. In that case, I’m bringing back Bret, Michael and Curtis and I’m sending myself back to the suite.

Trump: But… it doesn’t work like that. You were the PM, you…

Blago: Listen, Trump. You don’t tell me what to do. I am the ex-Governor of Illinois, I don’t listen to anybody. Not while I’m still roaming free. So it’s either Bret who comes back, or me. You pick. And you might as well pick me, because to be honest, I’m kind of tired of being on this show. It’s not as fun as I thought it would be. Day after day, we keep having to get up early, think, work, answer questions… It’s exhausting. Bret, what do you think? Do you like being on this show?

Bret: Not really, but I’ve nothing to do until the next season of Rock of Love starts, other than recruiting exceptionally good-looking women, like Erin here, for the cast… And speaking of good-looking, Trump, do you know if your daughter’s busy in September?

Trump: You. Get out. Now. Lay one finger on my daughter, and I’m destroying you verbally, just like I did for Rosie O’Donnell. Come on, get the hell out of here. You’re fired.

Blago: Fine. I’m leaving too then. Goodbye.

Blago gets up, exits the room. Bret follows him. Erin follows them. Trump, disheartened, starts sobbing, his face in his hands. "I… I don’t want the… the Governor to gooooo! He’s… *sniffles*… He’s so good for… *sobs*… for… ratings… BWAHHHH!!"

George pats him on the back: "Now now… Bret isn’t bad either for ratings, you know? No one in the world expected him to survive one day on this show, and so far, he’s been the best among the guys. I’m sure people will tune in to see if he can keep it up… Here, have a tissue."

Trump dries his tears, blows his nose and calls security to ask for Blago to be brought back to the boardroom. He adds: "Tell Bret I’ve unfired him and promise I won’t destroy him verbally."

Blago reenters the boardroom, an exasperated look on his face.

Trump: Sit down, Governor.

Blago: I don’t wanna.

Trump: I’ll give you 19 more chances to change your mind and bring Bret back to the boardroom. One…

Blago: I don’t wanna.

Trump: Two…

George: Where’s Erin?

Blago: Bret took her to see a death-metal show.

Trump: You mean Bret has left the building?

Blago: Yes, sir.

Trump: What time does the show finish?

George: About 1am. I went last night. Good gig, but all this headbanging made me tired, so I’m not waiting until Bret comes back. Either you fire one of these three here, or I’m going to bed.

Trump: Sigh… Alright, fine. I don’t know what’s with you all tonight, but I find everyone to be very unruly and rude. I’m Donald Trump, remember?

Blago: And I’m the ex-Governor of Illinois who wants out of Celebrity Apprentice and is about to fire himself if Donald Trump doesn’t do it.

Trump: Fine. I’ll fire you shortly, but we need to tape a couple of minutes of the final boardroom for the viewers first, so I’ll ask you some pointy questions and you all pretend you don’t want to be fired and fight back, OK?

Blago: You promise you won’t try to pull a fast one and fire Michael instead of me, Trump?

Trump: I promise. Are we rolling? Action! Governor, you just proved you have a lot of fight in you. Way more than I could ever imagine actually. What do you have to say?

Blago: I think we did a good job overall. The women were just better than us.

Trump: Why didn’t you bring Bret back?

George: Gee, let it go already!

Trump: Ok, ok… Rod, who should I fire?

Blago: Me.

Trump: And then in second place? Curtis or Michael?

Blago: Curtis.

Michael, flabbergasted, turns to Blago: "Really? I would have sworn you’d say my name."

Blago: I was gonna, but I re-thought about what Trump said about potential black jurors on my trial, and in retrospect, I think he had a point. Better offend the British than the African-American community. Furthermore, Curtis has a very popular show of his own and is very successful. He doesn’t need the Apprentice. Michael, as a washed-out Olympic champion, does.

Michael: Way to not offend this African-American… If anyone needs to be on this show, it’s you, you fucking corrupted piece of shit politician loser! I hope you go to prison!

Blago: Ouch. That hurt.

What follows is a long, desperate, pathetic attempt by Trump to keep Blago around. He bribes Curtis to throw Michael under the bus, blackmails Michael so that he badmouths Curtis and ends up throwing himself down at Blago’s feet, crying like a little girl. All to no avail.

Curtis: Mr. Trump, this is absurd. We’ve been here for 6 hours, and every single person here told you 100 times that the Governor was fucking awful as PM. Even he did.

Michael: I second that.

Blago: I third it.

George: Co-sign. I’ve had enough of this, I’m going to bed.

Trump: Alright, alright! Sigh… Ok… Governor, it pains me to no end to say this, because at this minute, I’d gladly give my daughter to Bret if it meant I could keep you here, but I see it’s not gonna happen. Rod, you’re fired.

A huge sigh of relief is heard both in the boardroom and my own living-room. Maybe I shouldn’t recap two-hours long shows anymore. Especially if they feature politicians.

Blago thanks Trump for giving him back his freedom, so that he can enjoy life a little in case it’s taken away from him in a few months. Curtis puts his hand on the Governor’s shoulder: "Rod, are you hungry? What do you say we go out for some ribs? It’s on me!"

Blago: Sure, why not?

George: Michael, there’s an element of Survivor that I’d like to discuss with you, how about a nightcap?

Michael: Sure why not?

They all exit, leaving Trump alone in the boardroom. He sits still for a while, then presses the intercom button: "Hello? Anyone there?"

Receptionist: Yes Mr. Trump?

Trump: Amanda? I’d like a double-scotch, no ice, please.

Amanda: Yes Mr. Trump.

Trump: Amanda?

Amanda: Yes Mr. Trump?

Trump: Care to join me for a drink?

Amada: I don’t drink alcohol Mr. Trump.

Trump: In that case, just bring me the bottle."

.

In the car taking him away from His Trumpness, Blago confesses that there was no way in the world he was gonna throw Bret under the bus, given that the rocker pretty much single-handedly accomplished the task.

As for me, I think the right person got fired, even though I wish it wasn’t the case. Personally, I find Michael stiff and boring and would have been perfectly happy with him getting the boot, and to hell with fairness.

Useless or not, Blago was comedy gold. I’ll miss him dearly. And I give him props for being classy and sticking with his decision to save Bret’s ass, in spite of Trump’s pitiful attempts at convincing him to do otherwise.

As for Bret, I find he talks too much and tends to let his emotions get the best of him, but I must admit he’s really surprised me so far, and in a good way. I wish him well.

.

And now, I’m off to watch last night’s episode of the show, even though I already know Michael fires himself at the end. Thanks for the spoiler, Google.

As for you, reader. I’ll be seeing you at the next recap, in about three weeks. Sayonara, bitches!.

.

.

In the same week, I lost both Boston Rob and Blago. I’m so upset.

What do you mean, "Who the fuck is Boston Rob?" Shouldn’t you be asking: "Who the fuck is Blago?" instead?

Boston Rob, clueless reader, is reality TV royalty. He’s been on Survivor, then on Survivor, then on the Amazing Race, then on Fear Factor, then on the Amazing Race again (I think), and I’m sure on a lot of other shows I wouldn’t know about because I don’t have cable.

And now, guess what? He’s on Survivor.

Or rather, was.

Boston Rob got the boot last week, and I haven’t eaten nor slept since.

Kidding. I ate.

But I was upset, and more than I thought I would (or should) be. With Rob gone, so is much of my interest in the show. Doesn’t help that quite a few of my favourites had already gone home (Cirie, Tom, Randy). So I guess at this point, I’m stuck with Sandra, Parv and maybe Jerri to root for. I’m still pissed at Jerri for voting for Rob, but I’m even more pissed at Coach; and really, the person I’m the most pissed at is that moronic moron "what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking-going-along-with-Russell-you-idiot" Tyson. God am I angry with that guy…

Erm… Where was I again? Oh yeah, Jerri… She’ll be good again in my books in a couple of weeks, once I get over the devastating loss of Boston Rob. This guy was MADE for reality TV. He’s an A-Lister in the world of fake reality. Dude’s just great. He’s funny, charming, charismatic, pretty damn hot, and he has kicked some serious ass on Survivor (as well as other shows.) And when you kick that much ass on Survivor, it means that you’re damn smart, my friend.

Anyway, I don’t wanna spend this whole post brown-nosing Boston Rob, but yeah, I’m a big fan of his. And I’m also a big fan of Survivor, and I was really looking forward to this season because it was Heroes vs Villains and I couldn’t wait to see my hot dude go head-to-head in a battle of wits with that fugly little troll Russell and OMG I’m total fan girl mode here.

But it’s true, I was looking forward to a season gathering some of the best and most infamous contestants out of the previous 19 seasons. Yes, 19. I’ll even spell it out for ya: nineteen. There’s a reason why Survivor’s been around for so long, mate; because it ROCKS.

Although it’s gonna rock a hell of a lot less from now on, with my hot Bostonian gone back to… well, Boston, I guess. But hey, what can you do, such is the nature of Survivor. Plus I will admit that there are a couple of things that Rob could have done to try to save his ass, but I don’t wanna get into that because I’d like to go to bed someday. I haven’t slept in a week, remember?

So there. One of my favourite contestants ever hath departed from the ultimate season, leaving behind him the so-called ultimate villain. We’ll find out if he really is. I’m hoping Parvati will get her flirt on and pull a Micronesia on his ass. Man, that season was awesome.

And in case you wonder why I haven’t mention "him" by name, and by him, I mean that twisted little troll, well, I won’t. Not until I have the insurance that this season won’t turn into Samoa 2.0 in the editing department. Those who watched Samoa 1.0 will know what I’m talking about. The others won’t, but I’m afraid they may do soon enough.

So you heard -or read, rather- me, Mark Burnett? I’ll not write about "him" until you start showing footage of the other contestants too, k? Cos’ until two weeks ago, I had no idea there was someone called Danielle on the show, let alone on the Villains’ tribe.

So good-bye Boston Rob, I’ll miss you, but I’m sure I’ll see you soon on a reality show near us (but make sure it’s on network TV cos’ I don’t have cable.) Ciao!

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~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

.

*sniffles*

I… I’m sorry… All this talk about Boston Rob made me all emotional, you guys… Anyone got a tissue?… Oh, wait, I have one, hold on a sec… Oops, gotta go wash my hands, BRB…

K, I’m back. Where were we? Ah yeah, part 2 of what has been a terrible week in reality TV. After Survivor’s harrowing loss of Boston Rob, it was Celebrity Apprentice’s turn to witness its worst casualty thus far, in the person of Chicago Rod, whom we shall call Blago from now on, as to avoid confusion.

Since some of you had to ask who the fuck Boston Rob was, I take it you have no clue who Rod Blagojevich is, am I right?

No problem. I didn’t know either until he fucked up by sleeping with 20+ women behind… Oh, wait, that’s Tiger Woods, I’m sorry, I don’t know how I got mixed up.

Anyway, for more on Chicago Rod, go here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rod_Blagojevich. If you don’t feel like reading all that, I’ll just tell you that Rod is a corrupted politician, which in itself is a pleonasm. He used to be the governor of Illinois, but lost his job for trying to sell senates seats on eBay, or something like that. Could have been Craigslist. Personally, I think he would have been better advised to sleep with lots of women, like Tiger did. That way, he would have had a much better chance of keeping his job, plus, as an added bonus, he would have gotten laid.

Anyway, I’m not here to educate you on corrupted politicians, I’m here to educate you on quality reality shows, something at which I’m an expert.

And as an expert, I can tell you that Celebrity Apprentice lost a big part of what makes it half-watchable: lulz. Lulz, which Chicago Rod brought in droves. He should totally team up with Boston Rob and go on the Amazing Race. Rob knows the way.

…

Damn… That’s… Hmmm…

*Dear Mark Burnett,

I need to talk to you. I just thought of something you may be interested in. Please leave your phone number and/or email address in the comments box below. You can also follow me on Twitter. I follow back.

In the meantime, I’ve four words for ya: Boston Rob + Chicago Rod. Catchy, huh? Looking forward to hear from you.

P.S.: I only add people I know personally on Facebook, so don’t send me a friend request, please.*

.

So yeah. In spite of his desperate efforts, New York Don found himself pretty much forced to fire the oh-so-useless but oh-so-very-entertaining-and-hilarious ex-Governor.

Not that Blago didn’t deserve it, mind you. He absolutely did. From his baffling technological retardation to his inability to come up with a single idea, from his talking in endless circles without ever saying diddlysquat to his shameless pushing of an agenda that has nothing to do with the show, I’d be ready to bet my bottom dollar that Blago has the letters: L, O, S, E and R stamped all over his cranium. Which would explain the ridiculous mop that he wears on top.

Methinks Chicago Rod and New York Don should take a clue from Boston Rob in the hairstyling department.

Man, wouldn’t these three make a fantastic team for a reality show that has yet to be invented? *cough*Mark Burnett*cough*…

Back to Blago, it’s very clear that the only charity he went on Celebrity Apprentice for, was the Rod "Please-don’t-put-me-in-prison-look-at-me-I’m-a-nice-guy-it’s-not-my-fault-if-I’m-a-bit-dumb" Blagojevich cause. And I think it’s safe to say that he fooled no one.

Yet, the Governor turned out to be strangely and infuriatingly likeable. From the constant befuddled look on his face to the fact that he seems to suck at absolutely everything, he offered us many priceless TV moments in his short stint on Trump’s stupid show. Moments that I shall cherish for a long time.

Goodbye Chicago Rod. You too will be missed, albeit for different reasons than Boston Rob (who, by the way, may wanna think about applying for the job of Governor of Massachusetts, now that he’s seen what it takes to be a Governor – nothing.)

I have to say though, bizarrely enough, at this point, I actually have more interest in Celebrity Apprentice than I do for Survivor, even though I like Survivor a gazillion time better. With so many of my faves gone, including my #1 guy, I’m afraid Survivor might become dull, or worse, a repeat of last season.

So for the first time since the beginning of the season, I’m gonna go into tonight’s episode not really caring all that much. Which may be a good thing. Some of my favourite Survivor moments have often featured people I (thought I) didn’t give a shit about.

Case in point: season 7: after Rupert got the boot from Pearl Islands, I remember saying I wouldn’t bother watching the show anymore since it would surely suck without him. But the following week I tuned in anyway, and boy was it worth it. Had I decided to go out having a life instead, I would have missed Johnny Fairplay’s infamous "dead grandmother" moment. And that would have been a shame because it was fanfuckingtastic television.

Again, although I didn’t care much for the cast of Micronesia (Fans vs Favourites), it turned out to be one of my favourite seasons ever. So I’m hoping that something similar’s gonna occur on the current season, since more or less all the people who are left on it get on my nerves, save for two or three.

.

As for Celebrity Apprentice, I’m still excited about it, in spite of its recent heavy loss in terms of both comedy gold and ratings (which I’m sure Blago helped drawing. C’mon: a disgraced Governor further disgracing himself by going on Trump’s shitty show? That’s a producer’s wet dream!). But even without Blago’s innate flair for providing lulz, the show still features plenty of bitchiness (Holly-what’s-her-face-the-Glacier), weirdness (Cyndi Lauper), swearing (Sharon Osbourne) and unexpected (Brett Michaels doing exactly the opposite of sucking). That circus should be fun for at least a few more weeks.

.

Wow. Look at the time. Might be a good idea to click "publish" on this thing before the new episode of Survivor comes on (in about 90 minutes). Not that I care about the show anymore, mind you… But still, I might take a look. I’d hate to miss seeing a certain troll getting kicked in the nuts by a bunch of dumb girls. Could always happen, you never know. (Ahem… Parvati? You readin’ this?)

.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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On a completely unrelated note, I’d like to take a second and send a thought to the memory of Malcolm McLaren, who left us today at the age of 64. McLaren was the infamous manager of one the most short-lived, yet hugely influential acts in the history of rock’n’roll: the Sex Pistols.

I want to thank him for shaking things up and giving a music industry become bloated and self-indulgent the swift kick in the ass it so badly needed.

You will be missed, Malcolm. You may have been a shit, but you will be missed. Rest in peace, buddy, and be assured that punk’s not dead, and that it has a future, in spite of what you said. Thanks for giving it to us.

RIP.

.

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The following post was started on Palindrome Day, but unfortunately, was only finished the following day, thus making part of the ‘information” stated below erroneous. However, I have fixed the problem by cheating on the publishing date, making myself seem a bit less full of shit in the process.

Other note:

Palindrome: a word, line, verse, number, sentence, etc., that reads the same backward as forward.

~~~~~~~~

Happy Palindrome day, motherfuckers!

Today’s date is: 01-02-2010. It’s a palindrome! I’m beside myself with excitement!

Actually, it’s only a palindrome in North-America, where inexplicably, they arrange dates by month, followed by day and then year. Which is totally nonsensical, in my opinion. Wouldn’t it make more sense to go day-month-year? Anyway. Not the object of this post. Sorry for going off-topic on your asses so quickly.

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Actually, what is the object of this post? I don’t know. It has no point. Just like most of the stuff I write.

No, wait. It totally has a point. I’d just forgotten what. I wanted to talk about my new year’s resolutions.

Oh, yeah. I’d almost forgotten about that too. Got distracted by that whole Palindrome Day palaver, obviously. But I do want to say:

HAPPY NEW YEAR, BITCHES!!! I wish you all the very best, and I mean it too! No, seriously, you all rock. Especially the ones of you who read my crap and leave me comments and stuff.

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So we’ve just started both a new year and a new decade with a palidrome. Does that scream “SYMBOLISM!!!” to you or what? No, just me? Oh well.

Anyway, in the honour of all this spooky shit (and also because I was WAY overdue for some major changes in my life) I’ve decided that 2010 would be the year when I’d finally give this resolutions business a fair shot.

I’ve never been one to make new year resolutions, mostly because I have the will power of a toddler let loose at Toys “R” Us. Why bother setting unattainable goals for myself, such as quitting smoking or similar ridiculous stuff, when I know beforehand that I’m inexorably doomed for failure?

Well, I’ll tell you why: because if you don’t set any goals for yourself and you happen to be me, you do nuthin’. Zip, nada, naught and zilch. And I’ve done that for juuuuust a little too long. Time to get in motion.

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The last post I actually managed to publish (a decade ago, now) was foreshadowingly called: “The times they are a-changin’…” Oh, what’s that you ask? Where you can read that post? Oh, here, thanks for asking.

Kidding aside, when I wrote that post about a month ago, I was only musing on how dramatically my tastes in men had changed in the last couple of years or so. (Current crush: Al Gore. Don’t make fun, please; you have no idea how many jokes I’ve been the butt of since I uttered that in public. Don’t try this at home, kids. Especially if you have an internet connection.)

But enough about Al and back to me-me-me and my new year resolutions: change. Change even I can’t believe in, but what the hell. 2010 is the year when I’m defying logic and sanity and will make some changes.

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What do I want to change? Well, in a nutshell: everything. I shit you not. I want a new haircut, a new job, a new diet, a new computer, new glasses, new neighbours (God, do I want new neighbours…), new boots and new habits. I want a new life.

And I want a new me. The old me is really starting to grate on my nerves. She does sweet fuck all all the time and is always whining about how her life sucks. And I can’t get away from her for reasons of, well, life or death. So I’ll have to litterally shed her, as a snake or any other similarly repulsive reptile would shed it’s disgusting old skin for a an equally disgusting new skin.

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And that, is why I made resolutions this year. Because I need to do a complete 180 (OK, maybe a 160). And I sure have my work cut out for me. I need to get rid of all my bad habits and them replace with brand new good habits.

Easy you say? HA. You have obviously NO idea how many bad habits I’ve been lugging around these last few years. If habits were weights, I could take down Hulk Hogan just like that.

Over the years, I’ve been accumulating bad habits like Tiger Woods has mistresses. My apartment is a warzone, I have the eating customs of a teenager whose parents have left in charge of the house for a week, I smoke like a fucking chemney, party like it’s 1999 several times a week, go to bed at absolutely ridiculous times and spend every second I don’t have to be somewhere else in front of my computer screen. And I’ve been doing all these things for years. I could single-handedly make the fortune of both a therapist and a life coach. Unfortunately, I can afford neither.

So it’s time to change all this. And what better way to do it than to set highly unrealistic expectations for myself? At this point, it’s not like I have anything to lose anyway. Even if I can only manage to make a couple of improvements, at least, it’ll be something.

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Wow. When I set up to write this post, I thought it was gonna be funny shit. And look how that turned out: not that funny at all. See, changes, already! It’s workiiiiiiing you guuuuuys!

OK, I’ll try to “end” this on a lighter note. I’m not comfortable with writing brutally honest, bullshit-free introspective confessions. It’s not my schtik. So I’ll give you my list of new year resolutions and we can all have a laugh and giggle about how asinine it is, after which I’ll have a bite to eat and go to bed, because eating and going to bed are part of my resolutions.

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REBEL WITHOUT A CLUE’S 2010 OFFICIAL NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS LIST:

1) Sleep with Al Gore.

Shit. That’s not what I meant to type at all. It just came out. Sorry about that. I’ll start again.

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1) Eat two to three times a day and try to shove occasional healthy item down throat.

2) Go to bed before 3am on a regular basis (baby steps on that one).

3) Clean apartment.

4) More than once a year.

5) Get rid of half the content of apartment (Seriously. The amount of junk I hold on to is ludicrous.)

6) Answer mail, pay bills, etc, before threatening-looking men in suits show up at door.

7) Move. As in, do exercise. Any exercise. (Sex doesn’t count, especially when in an altered state due to over-consumption of alcoholic beverages.)

8 ) No more drunk sex (which pretty much means: no more sex. Oh well. No one said this resolutions crap was gonna be easy.)

9) Have sex (sober) with Al Gore. (Give me a break. He’s been demoted to resolution #9 now. I’ve learnt to prioritize in the last 10 minutes. I’m already well on my way to nail those resolutions.)

10) Get job I like, which allows me to explore my potential and talents and which I find fulfilling and meaningful. (Aka: mission impossible. There had to be one unsurmountable mountain in there.)

11) Write less at once, but more often, because writing is something which I enjoy doing and I believe I’m good at.

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12) Look for possibilities of merging resolutions #10 and #11 while making money in process.

13) Be a little less social on the internet and a lot more social in real life (thus keeping alive my odds of ever having sex again.)

14) Buy shoes (not as easy as it sounds when trying to ally comfort with style.)

15) Buy glasses like Sarah Palin’s in order to weasel my way into federal politics and be taken much more seriously than I should.

16) Read a book.

17) Return last two unread books to library.

18) Get radiator fixed.

19a) Go to rental board. 19b) Wait 18 to 24 months. 19c) Get big fat rent deduction for putting up with unsufferable neighbours for almost a year.

20) Quit drinking less would be a good idea.

21) Quit smoking Start working on plans for world domination, beginning with solving global warming crisis. (That should score me some major points with Al Gore and will likely help in realization of resolution #9.)

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Well, I reckon I got it all down pretty good. List might require a little tweaking here and there, and I may have to discard one or two of my goofier goals, such as finding shoes that are both stylish and comfortable or being able to afford glasses like Sarah Palin’s, but overall, I think I can do this.

I may have to hire the odd hitman in order to take care of problems such as my neighbours and Tipper Gore in a more expeditive fashion, since my deadline is Dec 31st 2010, but I believe that with an early start, I can get most of this shit accomplished in due time.

And what better way to get an early start than to have an early night? It’s only 2am after all. I could actually begin my journey toward change-even-I-can’t-believe-in tomorr… erm, later on today. Yeah. Let’s do that.

Let’s all do it together, in fact. Happy New Year!

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PS: If you know someone who’s hiring writers, tell them to follow me on Twitter so that they get to see how versatile I am, in that I can do short and sweet equally as well as long-winded and tedious. Thanks.

PPSS: If you know of a good hitman in the Montreal region, please leave their name and phone number in the comments section below. Again, thanks.

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