Time To Make Amends

Dear Nature,

It's safe now. It's safe to bloom, it's safe to frolic, it's safe to hop and forage and nestle and fly. Come out fair butterflies. Run free young chipmunks. Dive without fear majestic dolphins. The greasy mean old witch can't hurt you anymore. Her reign of hate and jealousy is done. You can once again live and reproduce free from fear and loathing. The big bad beak-nosed lady who reeks of self-hatred and tequila has retreated. She's gone to lick her wounds. Sure, she'll get herpes on her tongue and her breath will smell like Ragan's pungent farts, but that's ok. It's all ok now. It's a time to smile, dance, and be free.

The joy welling up inside me this morning is unparalleled. It's like that scene in Footloose when Reverend Shaw Moore tells the kids they can finally have their dance. The Bonnie Tyler music swells, Kevin Bacon and Lori Singer are bursting with giddiness that they can hardly contain themselves, and I get that tingle in my stomach that tells me it's time to dance. "There's a time to laugh, a time to weep, and there is... a time to dance!" That time is now. Grab your gin and glitter bitches. We've got a new HOH and his name isn't Brendon. Oh yeah! Let's recap, shall we?

We bid adieu to fair Kristen who played with dignity and grace. It was she who gave us our first real fight. She stood up for what she believed in and she never backed down. I wish you all the best in whatever you do Kristen. Holla at your girl when you get a chance. Back in the house Hyena Fuckface thought she had this whole thing all wrapped up. Brendon would win HOH and their reign of terror would continue. She even urinated all over the HOH toilet seat marking it as hers and no one else's. Uh, not so fast, Crisco face. Grab your cheap trashy wardrobe and make yourself at home DOWNSTAIRS. I've had about enough of you ruining the show I so dearly love.

The live show ended with yet another endurance competition. It took forever for the Feeds to return and when they did Kathy, Enzo, and Lane had already fallen with Kathy being this week's only Have-Not. I have no idea if Enzo or Lane threw the competition, but if they did, I'm gonna be pissed. I'm so sick of those two going out of their way NOT to play the game. It's kind of gross they've gotten this far by telling jokes and working out. I can understand laying low and not causing any waves, but I can't understand not playing and planning your day around events that'll take up the most time. Did you know that Lane takes showers, not because he necessarily needs one, but to waste 40 minutes? That's how these two think: what's the fastest/easiest way to get to Thursday and throw another competition?

Back in the HOH comp, there was only one thing on my mind: "Fall Brendon, fall!" I had made all the preparations in advance. I had my curry powder, cumin, red pepper flakes, hemlock, and belladonna. That's my "Fall Brendon Fall" recipe and my Lala's Knock You On Your Ass Curry Chicken recipe. So versatile and sooooo tasty! I boiled it all in a pot, added some cat fur (because Brendon is a pussy), and chanted the magical phrase in Ancient Enochian. Translated it goes something like this: Brendon I hate you and your nasty old crone/please trip and fall so we can send the bitch home. It's not Tennyson, but it'll do. I found a quiet corner to meditate in and I began to put all the lessons I learned in The Secret to use. I visualized Brendon slipping on paint and falling straight on his head. I imagined Rachel looking on in shocked horror. The palor of stunned realization creeping over her face. They'd both whimper and whine as their dreams of being Final 2 trotted off in the distance. With eyes closed and a contented look on my face, I began to smile because I knew... I just knew that my dreams would come true.

Happy in my serenity I checked back in on the Feeds. I glared at that paint can whirling round and round. I saw Britney, Matt, Ragan, and Hayden. The can whirled faster and faster and I counted again and again. 1,2,3,4... 1,2,3,4... 1,2,3,4... I exhaled calmly, sat back in my purple velvet chaise lounge, looked up to the sky, and in a daze I undid my top. Without a word spoken I rose again stoic and strong. With my right hand I grabbed a handful of glitter from one of the many bowls surrounding me. With my left I held my bra overhead and began to twirl. *throws glitter* BRENDON FELL!!!! *twirls bra* WOOHOO!!! BITCH BOY IS DONE!!!!!!!!! *chugs some gin* DING DONG THE BITCH IS GONE!!!! Merriment ensued. Satyrs seduced me. Fairies fluttered in my hair. Keebler Elves baked me cookies and poured me shot after shot. It was Bacchanalian. It was Dionysian. Gods swooned, elixirs were imbibed, robes lay in tatters on the floor... pure unadultered decadence. Satisfaction personified in a single moment.

I took another look at my computer screen and saw Rachel... lips clenched in a tiny yet firm line. dirty hair hanging limply down her back, and the realization of imminent failure creeping across her face. If I could only bottle that moment. I'd sell it to all the ugly girls who thought they were hot. I'd FedEx a gallon to Ass Licker and include a note with my sincerest regards.

While Rachel was livid and I was loving life, Bitch Boy paced back and forth muttering to himself. He cursed the competition for being rigged for people with small feet to win. He cried aloud about how the comp was unfair. He whined and moaned and I almost felt sorry for the guy. He wasn't upset about losing. He was scared to death his bitch harlot girlfriend was gonna roast his nuts for dinner. I mean, let's face it, that's really what was going on. While Bitch Boy groveled, Rachel sat stone faced. While Bitch Boy apologized, Rachel shot daggers with her eyes. It was chilling to witness. I think my ovaries folded in on themselves and vanished into tiny pufs of smoke. Children are no longer an option for me because I dared to stare into the eyes of the beast.

Like all Endurance comps this season, we're left, yet again, with Ragan and Matt. I wanted Matt to do the right thing and fall. I'm sick of seeing the same ole HOH's over and over again. I want new pictures and new letters and new gift baskets, but no, I never get my way. Ragan and Matt discuss how next week could be a mental challenge so they decide that Ragan should drop so he'll still be able to play in it. Oh please. *exasperated sigh* The day Ragan ever becomes HOH is the day I have a tail and can fly. So yeah *yawn* Matt is our new HOH.

The entire house is content and it's like they all breathed a sigh of relief at once. The entire energy in the house shifted in that very instance. Hyena Fuckface and her bitch were no longer the big men on campus. The Brigade and Britney spread their legs and got comfortable as they reclaimed the house for themselves. Kathy stayed supine and Ragan decided to take a moment to grieve... and hide from Rachel.

(Image via onlinebigbrother.com)

Ragan went to the Have-Not room to be alone and mourn his lost pal Kristen. He lay silent with memories of his unitarded friend when suddenly the door opened and the beast walked in. Rachel is a lot like a beast - her nose is powerful and can sniff out prey better than any Beagle or Wendigo can. I'm pretty sure she'd be able to live in the wild with no problems at all. It's not even like she'd really have to use her powerful nose to survive. All she'd have to do speak and the poor innocent furry woodland creatures would be rendered helpless. So, anyhow, Rachel enters and she wants to kiss ass and talk game. Ragan is so not in the mood so instead he lectures her on what a class act Kristen was and how Andrew's speech was basically a speech of lies. Rachel nodded and began to scrunch up her face. I couldn't figure out what she was doing until she started to sputter like a broken speedboat. Rachel was crying... or rather, she was fake crying. She lamented about how hard it is in this game and how she doesn't like having to evict people yadda yadda yadda. Oh shut up you stupid cunt. You were thrilled to get rid of Kristen. Your hatred for her was vile and intense all because it stemmed from your hatred for yourself. No one, especially not Ragan, is buying the bullshit you're serving up now.

Rachel continues to "cry" - seriously, there were NO tears just a lot of posturing - and Ragan just sighs and assures her he's still her friend. The best part was when Ragan essentially kicked her out. He tells her that he wants to "be alone with his thoughts" and eventually the hideous beast leaves. A few minutes later Matt enters and Ragan tells him how Rachel was fake crying and kissing his ass. Ragan is not looking forward to this week at all. He knows Brenchel is going to be on his ass 24/7 so he decides to spend the week in groups of people to lessen he chances of being cornered. Personally, I think it's going to be a challenge for the professional napper. Seriously, Ragan naps about 18 times a day.

Ragan and Matt begin to talk about the week ahead. So far, Matt is planning is to make amends to me by nominating both Brendon and Rachel. Ragan tells him that he should say something in his nomination speech about good sportsmanship. Matt thinks he'll just say that Brenchel are strong and keep winning challenges and that it's scary to have them in the game together. Bo-ring! Matt is such a chicken shit. He's really the most spineless person in this game. Hell, even Kathy has the balls to vote how she wants. Matt's a tiny ugly dwarf man who's too scared to get any blood on his hands. The Matt fans out there will whoop and cheer next Thursday when Brendon or Rachel goes home and they'll claim their little gremlin made some major move. Uh no. No way. All he's doing this week is simply correcting a GIGANTIC mistake that was made 2 weeks ago. He deserves no adulation or parades for splitting up Brenchel. It was a house plan anyways. Nothing at all innovative about Matt being the one to do it.

Off in a room no one else will dare enter, Bitch Boy is busy still apologizing to Hyena Fuckface. He kisses her hands and her face and tells her how much he loves her. Rachel responds by sneering and kissing her $500,000 goodbye. Brendon actually says to her, "I don't believe in me. I believe in us." After I cleaned up the vomit on my keyboard, I just laughed and laughed. He's so douchetastic. Does he have romance novels in his board shorts that he pulls out and read quotes from? He tells her he wants to make breakfast for her every morning and dinner every night. He wants to watch movies with her and her dog. He wants to cut of his penis and hand deliver it to her wrapped in tissue and flowers. OK so maybe I made up that last part, but it might as well be true.

So, where does that leave us? We've got a midget for a HOH, a couple that may have to campaign against each other, and Pandora's Box ready to be opened. Oh, how the hell did Ragan win the Saboteur vote? Anyone else think that was really strange? Fascinating to see where America's head is at though. Quite honestly, I don't know if he'll take the Pepsi challenge. Ragan is the poster boy for risk management and I'm not sure the job of Mr. Salvatore is a risk he's willing to take.

So, will Matt grow some balls and give a killer speech? How hard will Rachel campaign against Brendon? Will Enzo ever do anything worthwhile in this game? Will Kristen ever read my blog? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!