Episode Seven: In Which We Are Bored and Unsettled, and Nobody Gets a Damn Cookie
by Wheezus
Okay, fine. Previously, on…SURVIVOR:
Backfat. Long dangly oobies. An embarrassing assortment of headgear. LAmy wears a Glennie hat. An Atlas-sized ball manipulation with hotdogs as a reward for NotBJ. BobbyJon and Jamie fighting for the title of Captain Caveman. Judd’s the stud of the jungle *yawn* again. Best. Tribal Council. Ever. Rafe betrays his new tribe by giving immunity to one of the strongest players (you know, Rafe should star in his own comic strip, he’s just that crazynuts-dot-com). No love is lost as Nurse Margrit haughtily bids adieu and heads back to M*A*S*H. The BJs’ love-fest contributes to global warming as they kissed fair Brian, prince of flutterbyes and bumblefuck strategery, goodbye.
Eleven are left. Who will be voted out tonight?
*cue the music*
We pan once again over the majestic ancient ruins of the Mayans, the lush beauty of
Our helicopter (o-ho! You didn’t know I had a helicopter, did you) hovers over the figure. I climb into the n’awlins rescue cage and lower myself down to get a closer look. The figure shouts at me, “Get that whirly-bird out of here! It’s wrecking my hair!”
That voice -- it echoes like a purple rock dropped in a tin can -- you know, one of those big Bush’s Baked Beans cans, the giant five pound cowboy size. Empty of course. Oh yes, I know that voice.
And so do you.
Suddenly, from behind a stone altar she takes someone by the ear, frog-marches him to the steps of the ruins on which they perch, and pushes him to his seat on the top step.
“Thirty-seven minutes, Judd. One minute for each time you took the Lord’s name in vain on last week’s show.”
“But—“
“Ut-ut-ut! We don’t talk in time-out. Now where’s Margrit? Not gone already! She gets a self-control cookie.” Glennie hoists a case of water bottles over her shoulder and disappears, her shuffling gait like that of a hunchback, from sight. But the Glennie, she sees all, knows all. I’m afraid we haven’t seen the end of her.
Survivor
Commercials: Glennie, driving in the rain for GM, maintaining (self-)control. Mr. Glennie, for Chase credit card, loving the double (huh?). Cascade and Dawn, in an incestuous relationship of cleanliness inside two-in-one action packs; JCPenny reminds us it’s all inside, and there’s a big sale Saturday with *gulp* bonus coupons, so I’m reminding you to stay away from the mall; Bubbles in a tree for Cingular, and what looks like the DC Cherry Blossom Festival; Star Wars, Episode Three, which is also Episode Six, or Nine, if you include the remakes with new improved animated Jabba. Something else scary, with flying discs and fake skyscrapers and national monuments breaking apart with what appears to be a promotion for NOLA flooding.
It’s a full moon over Maya-mi, ants and small rodents get busy, and spooky Halloween music moans in the background. The NotBJs are back at camp and Judd thanks the Lord and all his minions for their compliance with his plan to oust the evil Margrit. He assures them his ‘bark ain’t as big as his bite, man, and that’s damn true.’ Which is somewhat unsettling. Margrit just pushed his buttons, he said, pushing and pushing and pushing *pant* until he “kinda had a little outburst,” so he had to put her in her place. Which, I’m guessing, is on the bottom, handcuffed to the...something. Which also, he points out, was the weakness of the Clenis. Except not quite so Oedipal. “She used to be the Mom, but now? I’m laughing my ass to the bank and she’s making chicken wings.”
Judd stands in the dark with his babushka on his big dopey head and tries to convince us that he’s not really mean like that, he’s really happy all day -- a big teddy bear. But then his inner Chuckie comes out again, saying he’s not gonna take any crap like some wuss.
Jamie confesses that Judd’s a big guy with a big voice, and that he huffs and puffs but Jamie’s house is made of bricks and he’s not nervous. He wants to keep Judd close because Judd’s “gonna keep blowing up,” and Jamie wants to be there for it. He comes up with the brilliant idea that he’ll be taking Judd to the finals, which will get him (Jamie) all the votes. Translation: Cindy’s our winner, folks.
Through the magic of time, space and camera, we arrive at Day 16 at
Meanwhile, Danni is so cold. Can’t imagine why. It’s not like she has any FAT to keep her warm in the chill of the night, being how she’s completely caving in from starvation. What is the freezing point of saline, wonders me.
Finally, daylight. Amy grosses out at
Wheezus Confessional: I heart
We cut unsettlingly to the reward challenge, with no tree mail. Well of course not. What can be said about the STUPIDEST. REWARD CHALLENGE. EVER. So, to make this as agonizing for you as it is for me, I find my self at an ad-lib:
Four tribe members are going to rap, says Jiffy, a little something like dis:
Run like a ho to the po’ with the blue stuff
Roll yo’self up, yo whazzup, so you look tuff
Go po’ to po’, til you know you got ‘em all puffed
Work it back witchu, don’ be a foo’, jus’ undo, and run like hell back to the mat. Sho’ nuff.
[/whitegirl rapper]
Oh wait, he said wrap. Back to the stupidest challenge ever. My kids wouldn’t even do this for fun.
Today’s aMAYAzing special reward: apparently the Mayans discovered chocolate (yeah, right), as evidenced by the highly popular Mayan-Hershey bar, which was first produced in the year 614 in
Each team will have one whine-Der and four whine-Ds, yo. DJ Jazzy Jeff gives the instructions which are so asinine, so boring, so insultingly pathetic for this challenge, instead of what could have been a wonderful bondage scene, that I cannot bear to listen or write them down.
Note: In case I didn’t make it clear, this isn’t even sexy. Smelly Gary and Brandon wrapped in blue tape? Steph and
They whined and whined themselves around; somebody I’m too lazy to mention is helping; blah blah blah...dead even at the fourth pole.
If I say it’s a tight race, would you laugh? Nevermind.
The lead changes as the unwinding begins, but eventually the NotBJs fall down and can’t get back up, and the BJs win reward. The NotBJs get Not-chocolate. “I got nothing for you, you sad sack of idiots,” says Jazzy Jeff. The NotBJs are growing accustomed to, and indeed, have begun to look forward to, the reprimand, and I? Think they threw the challenge because of it.
Commercials: Zathura, a great movie preview, supposedly the sequel to Jumanji, without the benefit of Robin Williams. I must tell you that I have personally spent time with the author of the book Jumanji, who happens to be the same author as The Polar Express, one Chris Van Allsburg, who incidentally, grew up 30 miles from where non-professional landscaper Gary Hawkins lives; Moving right along to It, it it it it it it it it, along with some 60s song that Glennie knows by heart and sings in the beauty shop when she thinks she’s alone. All I know is that I wouldn’t wear the IT dress, not even to be the It-girl; Monster sale at Sears; a man screaming at the Post Office, going postal for T-Mobile; a nasally woman for Zicam, which, in my humble opinion, makes you feel worse; Vampire bats on campus with Lucy Lawless, this Sunday.
And we’re back.
The BJs first go to the zip line reward. Grackles screech overhead, which can only be bad news. I wait for my neighbor to shout, “SHUT UP!!” but no, it is not meant to be. Amy’s on the zip line. “What if I get stuck in the middle?” “You won’t.” “I won’t?” Is she the biggest retard ever? Yes, yes she is. Howler monkey in the background, hootin’ and hollerin’ at her. Hi, she’s a police officer, and she’s afraid of ev.ery.thing. We get gratuitous crotch shots of everyone, none really worth commenting about. BJ feels majestic (he’s SUCH a nice boy, isn’t he?); Unprofessional Gary zips like a pro but HE ISN’T, OKAY?!
At NotBJ, Rafe is being four. He writes his numbers on leaves, and the NotBJs sit and play pinochle.
The BJs decide to go visiting, a first for Survivor. They prep themselves, citing no negative talk, and they want to be nice.
They glide up to the NotBJ dock and start hollering. The NotBJs grumble, showing again their elegant sportsmanships. It’s a pool party, and Danni’s birthday. Sidenote: Man, these chumps are all beat to shit from that Atlas ball. Everybody’s skin is absolutely cheese-grated.
Reluctantly, the NotBJs decide to join the BJs, and Danni, in confessional, twirls her hair up near her enormous, plastic, uh, cowboy hat as she talks about how big she is on birthday parties. Funny about those oobs, isn’t it?
Cindy took her braids out, and now she’s just Cindy no-Braidy. Or Oliver. You decide. She confesses, “Why would I want to spend time with the people we want to get rid of?” Uhm…Cindy? Hi. You're an idiot.
The two parties arrive at the BJ camp and -- OH MY GOD!!!!
Judd’s standing in his underwear with his shorts stuck around his ankles. I can’t believe I didn’t see this corpse-fucking opportunity coming. I need a moment.
They share the left-over chocolate.
“Today is just about fellowship,” says the Reverend BobbyJon. He tells a history lesson to the camera about ancient Mayan Chiefs who would get together and sit and smoke, and then be at war later on. Glennie would approve. Except, of course, for Judd’s sopping underwear in his crack, because we don’t DO that. Oh, and the smoking. But she’s all about the fellowship and war.
Jamie is sick that they all get along so well. He’s the “I’m not getting enough attention” sportsmanship of the family, and it’s time for him to demand they all go back. “I’m here for business,” he says in one of the few times you can understand him. “And everyone else should be also.”
Steph says she thinks Jamie is shady, and that he is “losin’ it in
Commercials: Olay Quench, for dry winter skin, which we don’t have in Arizona—we have dry skin all year ‘round; Some hollering Army doods for Tide Stain Stick, wishing they had actual ARMOR rather than a silly stick to remove their shit stains due to not having enough armor; a photographer for Claritin Clear; Starwars Battlefront 2, which Wheezyboy has pre-ordered; Threshold, which seems like it needs another ‘h’; NUMB3RS – oh, I get it now – that’s code for something; Prince Charles on 60 Minutes, Sunday; Amazing Race, some girl group excited about sticking together; Jack Hannah on Letterman; a three-second spot for Fulton Homes; a big ol’ pork sandwich for Arby’s; Robinson’s May for a sale on clothes, furniture, and whatever the hell else they sell; some kid having to pee in a cup for the chance to drive his dad’s Toyota Tacoma; Dreamer, the movie with that evil little girl Dakota Fanning; MY LOCAL MEDIOCRE NEWS, reporting about a commune in the desert. Idiots.
And we’re back, with birds feeding each other little squirmy green pieces of chocolate.
Also at BJ, LAmy’s in the jungle tawkin’ to the Hawkins, and we get our first Survivor stalker/death threat.
LAmy: I think what we really need is good momentum. And what we reallyreally need, whoo-ha, is options. If we don’t win immunity, we’re screwed. And what we reallyreallyreally need is not to get screwed.
LAmy: If we don’t FRIGGIN’ win immunity, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t lie about anything, right, I’m just gonna…you can lie, but I’ll kick your ass afterward! I’M GONNA FIND YOU IN
Uh-huh.
“If
Gary confesses, “I’m trying to keep a straight face, I’m trying not to let her read me, because she thinks she can read people so well, but she’s not gonna find a Gary Hawkins in Grand Haven because there’s no such thing as a Gary Hawkins in Grand Haven.”
Maybe not,
Finally, we have
Tree mail:
It’s playtime in the sandbox
For puzzle pieces you will dig
If you don’t find all twelve
You’re gonna weep big.
LAmy confesses that they really need to win this one, so if they merge, they’re five on five. You go, big girl. If you talk a whole lot, that might help your chances.
BJ believes this is it—the biggest challenge ever, because there might be a merge. He gets it, he really gets the numbers thing. He smart, the BobbyJon.
The tribes make their way to the challenge to find gigantic frosted cookies bits leaning up against a ruin, half-buried in the sand. Sadly, Jiffy tells them they are only non-edible puzzle pieces, each weighing approximately three hundred brazilian pounds.
Jiffy asks the usual “Shall we get to today’s challenge?” and the sheep all agree as usual. One day, they will revolt, of that I am sure. And Judd will be the one to lead the charge. “You can shove your goddamn challenge up your damn ass and smoke it, Jeff, dammit,” he will say. And there will be much rejoicing in the land.
But Jeff drones on in his first grade teacher voice: Today’s immunity will test your ability to use teamwork while solving a puzzle. Three tribe mates must take turns finding the pieces buried in the sand pit, and bring them to the friendly mat. Once all twelve have been brought back to the mat, two different members of your tribe must assemble the pieces correctly to look like the Mayan calendar. Or a great big round GIANT frosted cookie. And if you are good, you will get a juicebox too.
NotBJ must sit someone out and SURPRISE! They choose
Brandon and Jamie each collect the first pieces. Judd and BobbyJon get the second for each tribe. Cindy starts digging and NotBJ takes a lead when Danni can’t handle it. “Danni found a piece, but she can’t lift it!” Jeff shouts, then falters. “Danni’s under…one…” he says, painfully, and Danni ekes her way out from under it and goes back empty handed. BobbyJon manhandles a huge piece for the BJs. Steph helpfully points out a piece to Jamie, and he fetches it and throws it at her, breaking her shin clean in half. There is a struggle to find more with each team tied at ten, but Cindy bounces back to home plate with NotBJ’s twelfth piece. Steph and Rafe start assembling, but we’ve seen Steph and her puzzle curse before. Will she blow it again for the team? The BJs soon follow with piece number twelve, and
Jiffy still gives them a spanking, though, which is the only way they understand. “You still suck, just like you sucked in the reward challenge today, and frankly you’ll always suck, but this time the BJs did a little bit better job at sucking than you did,” he reprimands. Reluctantly, he allows the lot of them can still skip TC. He hands over the idol, which Cindy cuddles to her breast like a suckling newborn.
To the BJs, Jeff says “I’m so, so so so sorry, I wanted you to win. They suck.”
Commercials: Nextel-Sprint, which recently netted me a hefty profit on my big-ass $200 investment a few years ago, and is affording me the luxury of taking Mr. Wheeze to Vegas for a weekend of watching Landru play with himself and Ilse; Some goofy guy smiling endlessly on his couch like he’s playing with his thingy, for Circuit City; Something foreign…snow, is it? For LL Bean coats and boots, free shipping. Lotsa low-flying jets, for the Saab 93 Arrow convertible with a 250hp turbocharged V6, which, incidentally, seats four, and therefore is perfect for an Arizona-living, 37-year-old mother of two; Pier 1, great style, great value, same old shit; Oh for heck, Herbie. Not the Love Bug again; Scary commercial we need to mute so the girl-child doesn’t have nightmares, must be CSI; Vampire Bats commercial. Again. Still scheduled for Sunday, just in cases.
A White-Nosed Coati and a giant grasshopper lead us into the next scene, where LAmy is still TAWKING: a loss for her tribe, a loss for herself, and a future loss for Grand Haven and Professional Football. LAmy and Danni talk about booting BobbyJon, and Danni has the worst poker face I’ve ever seen on such a big-hatted individual. LAmy says her best chance to survive is to outwit people, that there’s no one better to do that than she. They whine about BobbyJon being allowed to come back and play a second time, and LAmy pulls the ‘Nobody’d be asking ME back’ card. Somewhere, in the jungle, a Judd howls ferociously. Face it Amy, you’re toast and you’re gonna have to make good on your death threat. Go to Loser Lodge, eat like a tapir, ‘cause Grand Haven could use some excitement to balance out the World’s Largest (drumroll, please) Musical Fountain, which you should know plays hymns on Sunday nights, even though Glennie does not approve of water recreation of any kind on Her Sabbath. A sinful fountain it is, and it should be baptized.
LAmy is planning on a miracle when
“If you have Danni, you have me,” he says, implying a ferocious three-some. I forbid you to stop thinking about that immediately.
BobbyJon feels like something’s up. He feels worse than he’s ever felt in his life, implying that majorly losing the fire-starting challenge to Steph, using matches, was not embarrassing at all. He just wants to make it to the jury: it’s his lifelong dream, he tells
Danni remarks that this is going to be the hardest decision, as she walks through a downpour, looking like a drowned rat. She says she doesn’t know what to do.
They head to Tribal Council.
Jeff: Danni, you’ve gotta feel good about making it this far.
Danni: nothing feels really good today, it sucks.
Amy: I love everyone, and I have a bitchin scar on my face to prove it.
Jiffy:
Danni admits she’s a lying sack, BobbyJon says you should keep your deals, and says Bob Dole won’t go back on his alliances.
And it’s time to vote.
BJ votes for Amy, says she’s the strongest, most real woman he’s ever met in his entire life, and he won’t never meet anybody more real than her ever. Then he pukes in the urn and arranges his parchment neatly on top of it.
LAmy votes for Bobby Jon
Danni votes
Jiffy tallies the votes, and they are:
LAmy
BobbyJon
LAmy
LAmy
(and the nationwide ubiquitous vote for LAmy)
LAmy’s voted out, she does the bat-signal as she walks down the steps, and whispers, “I will find you, Gary Hawkins. Oh yes, I will find you.”
Annnnnd, in a surprising, most anti-climactic method, Jeff announces a New Challenge – the merge. “You shall go now to the NotBJ tribe, with new buffs. You shall not pass by your old camp, you shall not collect your things, as they will be collected for you. There, you will play nicey-nice with Judd and decide what the summary writers will call you heretofore. It’s a whole.new.game.
Febreeze family moment: Amy’s family looks like they actually love her; and Uncle Grampaw has a cool hat.
Commercials: Febreeze, of course, with those howler monkeys escaping the toybox to smell the carpet; Legend of Zorro, now in theaters; David Spade with that spanky fat guy, Chubbsy, for Capitol One; Some hip group for the Pontiac Torrent SUV, keeping it in the dark because it must be as ugly as the Aztec, though impossible to be uglier; a reminder that animals will be on Letterman again; and of course, the token Ghost Whisperererer, the most powerful episode yet, ya shure.
Next time on Survivor:
The merge. NotBJ awakens to a big surprise in the form of four mincemeated and soppy homeless individuals who mew at their door seeking sanctuary; the Survivors must choose their own fate as we get yet another “Ohhh, my Gawd” from Steph; Judd tells Glennie and everybody to shut the hell up. And the Glennie? Will Outwit the Judd Stud. Just you watch.
LAmy closes out the night with her soul ripped out and bleeding, but she’s learned a tremendous amount about her ownself and she wouldn’t want it any other way. Liar.
*Shoutsout to Diamond and Tech, who are the real goldrushes at the end of the rainbow.
¶ 12:54 AM
****
I too, have decided Cindy Braidy will win, based on the "most boring person left" theory, which worked so well for Jenna and Vecepia.
Oh and... "The Wheezus, she funny."
Now I'll admit that your second treemail was no snot poetry, but that's more than made up by your seminal whitegirl wrap for the first treemail. In fact, it's made up, tucked into a neat little snotrag, and blown away into the oblivion of not-matteration by your seminal whitegirl wrap. Best. Treemail. EVER.
As I told you personally, in a very special telephone episode of Landru Loves Wheezy, this is, like, the Best. Summary. Ever. I am dethroned, unmanned, and turned into a little fairy sissy in frilly panties and a tutu. Except it's the kind of little fairy sissy in frilly panties and a tutu who's going to KICK. YOUR. ASS. For whimpering about how much you suck about this sort of thing.
Seriously, people. Landru? Old, dried-up, heavily adverbial, shut-the-fucking-fuck-up, bore-you-into-hypnosis-until-you-say-you-like-him, D. U. L. L. Wheezy? The New Hotness.
I'm going to go curl up in a little ball and weep now.
Love the incorporation of Glennie, Mistress Wheezy.
And I loved the summary. Both educational and entertaining. Not to mention the fact that you told me I had to read this and like it. *grin*
Great job. I laughed my ass off.
*sigh* doesn't word verification know I'm blonde? i always get the hardest combination of letters.
You rock!
I meant to read them all, and will eventually.
That said, I read this one because Wheezy emails me, and that makes her my favorite.
If the others are half as good as this, you poeple have a hit site on your hands!
I loved this!
I always enjoy anything my Favorite writes, but this was funny as hell!
From the intro to the end, great work.
I can't wait to read the rest, I know there is talent in bunches around this place.
But gee, you mention the musical fountain but no mention of the best.pizza.ever? mmmmm Fricanos....
But you lose points for making look at a photo of that red state maroon who is despoiling my country. At least he finally returned the one-finger salute I offer up every time he pollutes my tv screen & forces me to mute the tube.
And word verification has come up with a new name for Danni - wyaife.
What do you mean you don't get it?
That Wheezy, she funny.
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