Thursday, March 22, 2012
Last night on Mob Wives, the Americas and beyond were introduced to a fairy sprite hell bent on setting the world's wrongs right. Fluttering across land and sea, through glen and dale, over the river and through the woods, our tiny glittery friend arrived at her destination without fanfare or celebration. It was a soft landing, a mere poot! on the wind. After tying back her windswept hair with a clover stem, she tiptoed through sleeping giants in search of the one who smelled like feet and aqua net. There, in pastel, by the light of the campfire her victim lay. Nettle Rainbowtree always hated this next part. Doing the work of the gods may be mentally challenging and spiritually fulfilling, but it's a messy business that often leaves poor Nettle covered in bodily fluids and tears. But, what must be done must be done. The quicker she can find her victim's belly button, the quicker she can crawl inside and get to work. Nettle Rainbowtree might be a soldier for the greater good, but she's also got a nectar (read: ecstasy) festival kicking off back at the bramble that she doesn't want to be late for. And so, with arrows, pliers, and box cutters in her knapsack and a hairy belly button staring her in the face, she is ready. Godspeed Nettle Rainbowtree. Make it count. Let's recap, shall we?
We continue our tawdry tale under the cover of night with only the gentle hum of the crickets to keep us sane. It's neither cold nor warm, windy nor rainy. Everything just is. Until it isn't anymore. I guess. Until Fancy Pants (Colton) enters and shits all over everything. I guess. Not even the night, the peaceful night, is safe from this destroyer of harmony. One moment it's lingering, the next it's folding upon itself hiding in the corner waiting for the sun to rise. Do not go gentle, night.
Bursting through the darkness we hear Fancy Pants and Jugs (Alicia), arms linked together, skipping and cackling into the night air. "That Tribal Council was amazing!" "Yeah, you should totally kill yourself Christina. Seriously, you're like a cockroach." "Right Heather?" "Right Heather." Staring into the crackling campfire, ChaCha (Christina) listens to the beast people and with a shrug of her shoulders declares, "Maybe I am an idiot." Jugs smiles to herself pleased with ChaCha's defeatist attitude. It's only a matter of time now until they discover ChaCha swinging from a tree with her neck broken. Until then, Jugs will beach herself across the rickety shelter and make ChaCha sleep hanging off the edge with the waves and jagged rocks staring up at her from below. Then, in the middle of the night, Jugs will feign restless leg syndrome, kick ChaCha out of the shelter, and wake with mock horror as she peers over the bamboo floor to find a mangled ChaCha splayed across the rocky shore. Dimples will probably ask what happened to ChaCha, but Jugs already has that all figured out. "I gots the jimmy legs Dimples. Ain't my fault she got in the way. Harumph!"
Miraculously, the night flits by without incident and we find ourselves the next morning over at Salami (Salani). I've been watching Survivor for 85 years now and typically the guys and gals, though dirty, manage to keep their overall cuteness in check. Maybe it's the open night air or the strict calorie restrictions. Whatever it is, the castaways are rarely hard on the eyes until, that is, I saw those craggly cave Salamis wake up. Kim, with nimble fingers, shields her pinhole eyes from the sun while a bloated Prunes (Chelsea) looks like she's retaining the tribes water in her eye sockets. Even plucky Kat hides her radish head in shame. It's when her pinwheel eyes finally stop spinning that she remembers a horrible dream she had last night. Jugs killed her. At the mall! Kat, all teeth and polka dots, looks at us with a straight face, "I'm not sure what it means. I hope she doesn't kill me." Then some jaunty carnival music played and the scene ended. That's our Kat!
And now we arrive at the Reward Challenge. One at a time players will race to the top of a stack of crates where they'll throw a coconut bouncing it off of a trampoline and into a target. The first tribe to knock out all five targets wins an ice cream social at the Survivor ice cream parlor. Hearing this, Fancy Pants bends his knees and sticks out his booty tooch. "Please, please, please, please, please," he pleads to no one in particular. Please what? Please hurl the coconuts at your head instead of the targets? Please help you win so you can ease what you think are hunger pains, but is really Nettle Rainbowtree snipping arteries and veins and whatnot? Oh shut up Fancy Pants. Survivors ready, go.
The players of the opposing tribes one by one race to the top of their crates and one by one they fail to hit a target. Jay, Fancy Pants, Kat, Jugs, Troyzan (Troy), ChaCha, Prunes, and Jonas all fail to connect making Fancy Pants angrier by the minute. Yo, Fancy Pants, it's situations like these where you want strong players like, oh I don't know, Monica!
After what seems like an eternity, Kim finally connects scoring 1 for Salami. Behind her we see Tarzan (Greg) clutching his left arm and breathing through an oxygen tank trying to make it to the top of the crates. Devil Dimples mocks Tarzan's weakness and it is here that I discover how Dimples' shirts get so blue. Eyeballs. Baby eyeballs. He takes the eyeballs out of infant children and grinds them up for that blue, beyond all blue, pigment. Search the world far and wide and you will never find a blue so blue as the blue (of the dead baby eyeballs) of Dimples' shirt. The happiest blue on earth, I tell you. Anyhow, Tarzan actually manages to score tying up the game 1-1.
Little Man Leif scores next putting the Menudos in the lead, 2-1. When it's time for Fancy Pants to throw again, the coconut ricochets off the trampoline and hits him square between the eyes. Luck or Nettle Rainbowtree? You decide. Jugs is up next and with a burp of self hatred she dribbles her coconut down into the dirt. Devil Dimples, stroking his lovely blue, points at Jugs and laughs, "My nephew could toss it better! Pathetic!"
Then, it's ChaCha's turn. She shoots, misses, and trots back to the gang with a perfectly respectable rate of speed. Fancy Pants, however, feels differently, "RUN!!! You stupid bleeping idiot." ChaCha gives him the side eye while Fancy Pants stands fuming. It is here that I had a genius idea. If I were ChaCha and Fancy Pants had told me the night before that I was going home, that I was a cockroach, that I had no friends, and that I suck at playing this game, do you know what I would do? I would do everything I could to lose the ice cream reward. I might not be able to turn my tribe against him and I might not be able to save myself before the next Tribal Council, but I can certainly make him pout for the rest of the day while the other tribe is off sticking their faces into vats of Rocky Road.
And can we please talk about how Fancy Pants is only angry at ChaCha while his gang banger buddy is pretty much dropping her balls straight down in the dirt? Oh and what about Fancy Pants himself? It wasn't ChaCha who shot herself in the head. It was Fancy Pants! Now, I don't know if ChaCha put the Lala Sabotage Plan into effect, but her last shot was deliciously short and at home I giggled to myself thinking that we'd succeeded in our plan to piss off Fancy Pants for the rest of the day. Whatever the case may be SALAMI WINS REWARD and Fancy Pants is one unhappy camper. :-)
Immediately we're whisked away to the Ben & Jerry's of the South Pacific. Beneath a makeshift shelter of dried leaves and birch twigs sits a freezer powered by a small Polynesian child riding a stationary bicycle. On the counter we find a bounty of Kat's family, I mean candy. Twizzlers, sprinkles, skittles, gummy things, pop rocks, lollipops, hot fudge, whipped cream, fizzy lifting drinks, etc, etc. The Salamis put in their orders ("Vanilla!","Mint Chocolate Chip!", "Ice Cream Soda!", "Mommy!" Oh Kat.) and what ensues is a yawnfest of boredom. Watching other people slurp ice cream is about as entertaining as watching paint dry. At home I climbed up on the coffee table to see if I could find a Hidden Immunity Idol clue in the gumball jar. I crawled under the sofa in search of a scroll under the tub of Boysenberry Sorbet. Are clues at Rewards over? It might be fun to have more than 2 Hidden Immunity Idols at play at once, no? Oh well, let's peek in on those Menudos and see what love and light they have to offer the world.
"Why don't you just jump into the fire before I push you in face first?!" "Yeah, here take my razor and take a walk. You know what to do." "Good idea Heather." "Thanks Heather." Oh, so it's prayer circle time. Those two creatures, coconut trampoline tossers extraordinaire, Fancy Pants and Jugs are at it again. While ChaCha sits in silence, they hurl pebbles and fish guts at her head while encouraging her to quit. It's like Bad Girls Survivor. Pop off son! I run Samoa!
Off in the distance, Jonas observes with a look of disapproval. He doesn't particularly care for two members of his alliance acting like heinous hose beasts. They already have the power to vote off ChaCha which makes these last little turns of the knife nothing more than extracurricular. Sport. Fun. With all that self hatred in their veins, I'm surprised they even have the time to attack anyone else. Shouldn't they be hiding underneath the covers with a flashlight slicing lines into their thighs wondering why daddy never loved them?
While those mysteries of the world remain unsolved, ChaCha sees an opening to get in a little face time with Leif and Jonas. They seem like stand up guys who just happened to get sucked into the Fancy Pants black hole and can't seem to find their way out. Maybe ChaCha can be their way back to civilization. She tells them that Jugs is part of the girl alliance over on Salami and that as soon as the tribes merge, Jugs will go back to the others. Jonas pauses to consider what ChaCha is telling him when out of nowhere, jiggle jiggle jiggle, Jugs approaches in a cloud of fury. "Game over girl!" *hides under the bed* Jugs does that sarcastic slow clapping thing and I'm thinking to myself, "If she takes off her earrings, there's no way I can save you ChaCha." That's the number one sign that trouble is afoot. When a big haired girl takes off her hoop earrings, run! Or if she puts her hands on her hips, sways her neck side to side, removes her heels, or straps on her brass knuckles - all signs to get the hell out of Dodge. ChaCha, however, is surprisingly calm. She stands up to Jugs and maintains her footing whereas I would have just gone ahead and leaped into the fire. Seriously, how can anyone stand to live with Jugs and Fancy Pants? Fine. I'll take your invitation to die. No biggie. Later. *sizzle sizzle, glitter spews like tiny daggers*
And so, after a day where crazy came to town in the form of two giant breasticles, the campers have settled into a peaceful night around the campfire. The familiar sounds of crickets chirping fill the night while a whiny bitch boy peppers the silence with moans. "My head hurts, my brain... it's ouchie." It's Fancy Pants and he's got himself a headache. That in itself isn't that big of a deal, but someone please tell me why ChaCha is cradling his head and massaging it? ChaCha! I understand being nice to people and doing what's right, but Fancy Pants isn't the type of person to appreciate random acts of kindness. If someone had treated me like Fancy Pants treated ChaCha, I wouldn't be cradling his head in my lap. I wouldn't be banging pots and pans together either. Actually, I'd probably be with Leif in his crate pestering him about what Lestat is like or some shit like that.
It was when Fancy Pants muttered, "It feels like a knife is cutting from my belly button over to my right side" that I smiled to myself. Nettle Rainbowtree! She's deep in there and I'm not sure what organs she's messing about with, but it's working. It's working! You can call it karma - payback for all the vile things Fancy Pants has done or said in his lifetime - but I prefer to call it the fairy police. Tiny little shimmering do-gooders on the flight path to justice. Pointy-eared sheriffs of morality. Winged warriors for peace. So the next time you act like a vile butthead, just know that Nettle Rainbowtree is sitting in her blackberry bush sharpening her weapons. You won't know when she's coming or how she'll attack. Just know that she's watching... and waiting.
A new day dawns and, for the most part, Fancy Pants seems ok. I mean, his head still spins around in circles, but he's sitting upright so that's something. Better check in with Dr. Tarzan for a second opinion. Stick out your tongue Fancy Pants. Ok, yeah, you're dehydrated and I think you've got the scurvy. You might experience some kidney failure and loose stools over the next several days. Heart palpitations aren't uncommon, but let me know if you go blind. That might mean something is seriously wrong. Take 3 cc's of Yoohoo and call me in the morning. Later, Beauford.
And there you have it. Fancy Pants will be just fine. Dr. Tarzan is now accepting appointments for breast augmentations, rhinoplasty, elbow straightening, ankle shortening, and butt loosening. Call 1-800-TARZAN to receive your jungle discount. That means he performs the surgery in the jungle with sharpened coconuts and crab pinchers. Not quite as sterile, but effective!
Not two minutes after Dr. Tarzan has packed up his tongue depressors (pebbles taped to a stick), Beauford, I mean Fancy Pants, begins to feel a little whoozy. Jonas suggests he tries a "coconut water enema" and I'm thinking that scrapping "Jon-Ass" as his nickname might have been a bad idea. What sort of kinky shit are you into Jon-Ass?
While Tarzan and Jon-Ass go over Fancy Pants' medical chart together, Fancy Pants goes into the bushes and discovers that his pee his brown. I kind of figured his pee was always brown to begin with being that he's, you know, made of sludge and hate. It turns out that brown pee isn't his usual urinal offering and now we find Fancy Pants whimpering to himself while lying in the dirt in the fetal position. Now, I'm not an evil person. I'm really not. I try to do nice things for others, I avoid confrontation, I chant, I practice yoga, I live a healthy lifestyle (gin is healthy goddamit!), but spank my bottom if I didn't giggle like a schoolgirl watching Fancy Pants writhe in pain. I'm sure Nettle Rainbowtree will poke me for that later, but screw it. I dunked my knockers and my ass into my awaiting bowls of glitter. I got my pikachu as well. Don't ask how. Let's just say, I'm limber. So there I was laughing and covered in glitter while Nettle Rainbowtree took a jackhammer to Fancy Pants' innards.
Enter Ramona & Beezus. We know Ramona back from when Kourtney jammed her wrist up her nose and left the earth. This Beezus character, though, looks a lot like Dimples. With a squish, a prod, and a poke Ramona declares that Fancy Pants is a horrible human being. Hell, I could have told her that and I didn't even need to touch him! Ramona continues to poke Fancy Pants in the stomach and when she reaches his right side, he squeals in horror. The second medical assistant mumbles, "His heart rate just jumped to 666 beats a minute." Ramona pokes him again on the right side - this time just for fun. "Owwwww!!!" "Yeah, I think it's appendicitis. We'll need to amputate your head." At this point, the tears begin to fall freely all over Fancy Pants' seafoam green shirt. It looks like he'll have to leave the game and there's nothing he can do about it. Excuse me for one second, please.
Ahahahaha.... ahahaha.... aha.... hahahahaha... HAHA... ahahahahaaaaaa.
OK sorry about that. So now Fancy Pants has to leave the game so Ramona can drop him off in some head hunter's tribe and let them deal with him. Dimples, always the thinker, asks Fancy Pants, "Do you still have the Idol?" Fancy Pants whimpers that he does. He then asks, "Can I give it to somebody?" Dimples tells him he can if he wants. The rest of the Menudos come over to kick, I mean say goodbye, to Fancy Pants, but all Jugs can think is, "Ah! My game!" Meanwhile, Jon-Ass is inexplicably crying. The big question now is who gets the Idol. There really is no logical choice here. Fancy Pants doesn't care for Leif and he was pretty much just using Jugs. I guess Jon-Ass would make sense. I mean, he is crying and all. In the end, it turns out all the guessing is for naught. Fancy Pants will keep his Idol as a souvenir and Jugs will forever regret the day she voted Monica out of the game. Justice times two! Thank you Nettle Rainbowtree. You do excellent work.
Back at the camps, both tribes receive tree mail summoning them to Tribal Council. The Salamis aren't sure what's going on while the Menudos think that someone is still getting voted off. Jon-Ass makes the executive decision to keep ChaCha and get rid of Jugs. Tarzan, however, doesn't care for this new plan and would like Katrina to go home. I'm not sure who Katrina is, but I'm sure she's lovely. Tarzan tries to recruit Leif into voting out Katrina, but Leif is all like, "Katrina who?" Maybe she'll show up at Tribal.
And here we are at Tribal Council. Salamis and Menudos. Two tribes. Two worlds. Wait a tic... where's Fancy Pants? Dimples tells everyone that Fancy Pants had to leave the game because of acute appendicitis. Wide eyed Kat asks, "What is that?" Someone points to their abdomen for her. She replies, "Oh." Leif interjects to tell the tale of when he lost his own appendix at the age of 15. Dimples kind of blows him off which I thought was rude, but hey! Devil Dimples is running the show now and there's nothing we can do about it.
Dimples turns his attention to the Salamis for their reaction, but as they're all bran muffin pod people it's boring, boring, boring. I'm sorry Kim, but you're BORING. Oh my god, you're so boring. You know who I'm digging more and more? Kat? Kat! Deliciously sweet and vapid Kat. Sure, she's about as smart as a pixie stick, but she cracks me up. There's charm in that sugary body of hers - probably a lucky charm. Ha! But yeah, I like ya Kat. I didn't a few weeks ago, but you're growing on me and that's not an easy thing to do.
In keeping with Kat, she could really care less who got Fancy Pants' Idol or what last messages he had to pass on. All she wants to know is how to not get appendicitis. Me too! I've still got my appendix and, knowing me, that's probably a pain I'd ignore and try to make go away with a vicodin smoothie. Then again, I'll bet you'd get some amazing pain killers from a surgery like that. Smoothies for everyone!
In the end, no one was voted off, but something weird and "last minute", if you ask me, took place. Dimples tells everyone to drop their buffs because now we're merged. Is it just me or does it seem like a lot of this season's decisions are being made 5 minutes prior to Dimples showing up on the scene? It's like, "Yo Probst, your masseuse is in your tent for your post Tribal rub down. Hey, what do you say we merge these bitches tonight?" "Yeah, whatever, your call." And that's how a P.A. has come to make all of the executive decisions so far this season. We're now at 6 women and 6 men and that's that.
So, what did you think of last night's episode? Are you happy Nettle Rainbowtree works for the greater good? Will you miss Fancy Pants? Will the women and men stay aligned with their original tribes? Is ChaCha's best bet going to the men's side? Who the hell is Katrina and how did she end up as my title? Comment it out bitches and a have a great day!
All Survivor photos were stolen in broad daylight from the Survivor Seasons Facebook Group.