7 Deadly Houseguests

A long long time ago in the olden timey days when thieves had their hands cut off for stealing loaves of bread and syphillis was as common as ADD, someone in a laboratory somewhere, possibly Siena or maybe Avignon, was hard at work coming up with a formula. He worked quietly and patiently in a dank cellar he had dug on the north end of his acreage. There were serfs, vassals, indentured servants, and all sorts of other people from my history classes puttering around doing chores of various importance, so Stuart, that's what we'll call this inventor, would work late at night by candlelight while everyone else was sleeping. He mixed all sorts of fragrant concoctions. Some had acacia, bayberry, and figwort while others had henbane, milk thistle, and vervain. Stuart wasn't casting a spell as yours truly is often wont to do. No, Stuart was searching for the origin of evil. *thunder clap* He thought if he found what made evil tick, then maybe he could banish it once and for all and not worry about his ladies in waiting whoring around or his footmen stealing an extra tomato here and there when he wasn't looking. After months of working through frigid winters and sweltering summers (his air conditioner was like totally broken), Stuart discovered that evil is much more complicated than he first thought. There wasn't simply one impetus that made evil so bad and not good. There were, in fact, seven. Yes, my dear readers, it's a little known fact that the Stuart in this tale is the Stuart who discovered the 7 Deadly Sins. *thunder clap* Now, why on earth would I be talking about the 7 Deadly Sins on a Big Brother Blog? Well, it's a simple as this: There are 7 houseguests left, not much went on yesterday, I thought 7 houseguests - 7 deadly sins... voila! My most ambitious blog post to date, my homage to Tyra Banks (name why this is an homage to Tyra in the comments and you're a big weiner!) Let's recap, shall we?

Stuart's first discovery was one he kinda already knew to be true himself. His wife was a lying slut who slept with the stable boy and his scullery maid was always flashing him her vaj, so yeah, the first deadly sin is Lust. *thunder clap* It was actually Aristotle who defined Lust as an "excessive love of others" so, naturally, the houseguest representing Lust is the one and only Brendon Villegas. The newly bald Brendon confessed early on to a two time a day masturbatory habit so it shouldn't really come as a surprise that he was quick to fall prey to the red headed harlot we've all come to hate. Brendon's primal urge to procreate is the deadly sin that I firmly believe ruined him for America. Sure, Brendon is a fierce competitor who doesn't know the meaning of "give up", but he's also an unfortunate tool who thinks with his loins. Had he played his own game, not been Rachel's little kumquat Bitch Boy, and made some solid friendships he could have easily been a favorite in the eyes of the public. Yes, Brendon still has a solid shot of actually winning this season from hell and I even tossed around the idea that it might not be such a bad thing after all. Then I came to my senses when I realized that Rachel would probably get a piece of that $500,000 pie, she'd monopolize every single one of his victory interviews, and these two chuckle heads would most definitely secure a spot on The Amazing Race (which I begrudgingly blog over at the Bitchy Amazing Race Blog). I don't know about you guys, but I can't live with that. I can't sleep soundly and continue to live my life happily knowing that Rachel would be out in the world somewhere buying herself some more tie dye tank tops and mismatched extensions with Brendon's money. Poor Brendon will be on welfare by December because his clown of a girlfriend would have bought the Patron distillery and drank the entire inventory. For my own sanity and for the future of tequila everywhere, I do not want Lust to win this game.

The next up on our list is Gluttony. *thunder clap* This is an easy one requiring no thinking on my part. Gluttony is represented by one Mr. Enzo Palumbo. *cue 'O Sole Mio'* Enzo not only cheats while as a Have-Not, but he eats like food is going out of style and his teeth are made of rubber. It's an open-mouthed sucking slurping dance for the ages. I literally hurl my head phones across the room when this idiot starts masticating. I've found it's faster and much easier for me to simply rip off an ear lobe rather than fumbling around trying to find the mute button. I don't know if he thinks he can extract more flavor from his food by sucking and smacking it death, but it's truly the most nauseating noise I've ever heard in my life. Being Italian and having famous pizza maker parents doesn't help Enzo's cause either. The crunchy crusts mixing with the melted gooey cheese squenching and blending around and around in his mouth is a feast for the eyes no one should ever have to witness. Being a gluttonous open mouthed pig, Enzo's primal urges draw him to all things caloric. Yes, he's stuffed things to eat into his penguin costume and just yesterday I thought people were getting way too bent out of shape over it, but last night... last night, the night before eviction, Enzo stood in the kitchen in front of Matt and Hayden, asked if he was allowed to drink chocolate milk, ignored the "no's" he got as an answer, and proceeded to make himself a giant glass of the cocoa goodness. He announced to the cameras that he didn't care if he was cheating - "Go ahead and send me to the fucking jury house yo.", he said. Hayden's eyes grew wide as he sensed his game could be in danger if Enzo left instead of Matt. Conversely, Matt just sat there and shifted uncomfortably. If I was Matt, I would have gotten straight up, marched into the DR, and said, "Hey assholes, Enzo just cheated in front of everyone. Penalty nom. Now!" The sneaking around thing with the food didn't bother me too much because other HG's have done it in the past without repercussion, but the flauting of BB laws right in front of everyone (just like Jen did in BB8) is a little over the top and, yes, he should be punished for it. I don't care anymore if he taps into that all too popular Jersey Shore demographic and makes all the non feedsters laugh 3 times a week. He should be held accountable for being a whiny gluttonous pig. Thankfully, I'm pretty confident that Enzo probably won't make it to the Final 2. If he does and he ends up winning BB12, I move that New Jersey's borders be closed and no one ever be allowed to leave that state again. Between Mr. Palumbo, that tubby drunken idiot with the bump-it in her hair, and that wretched Manzo clan, I am officially done with New Jersey!

Stop three on our whirlwind tour of sin is Greed. *thunder clap* I was looking forward to this one actually because I think we all know who the new poster boy for Greed is... Hayden. Hayden, the shaggy haired nonwinner who doesn't know the definition of "alliance" or "loyalty". The second he's on the block he turns against his in-house hook up (Kristen) in order to protect his precious self. Last night though... my god, that CBS show... Hayden went a step further in his douchebaggery and not only gathered up all the prizes for himself, but went ahead and let Matt take all the blame. I guarantee he stole money out of the church collection plate as a child. I'm pretty sure he refused to let his creepy overprotective mother give out candy to other kids on Halloween and, I'm not sure, but I wouldn't count out the possibility that Hayden has also stolen aluminum cans from the neighborhood homeless man. Hayden's greed is so overwhelming that friendships and love interests are clearly secondary in his life. I'm pretty sure he's never held a job (actually, he'd probably just steal from the till if he had) because last night he said he hasn't made more than $5000 in the past 2 years. He's 24! What the hell is he still doing in college is what I want to know?! Is he like one of those people who just shirks the idea of growing up that they stay in college for as long as possible because they know mommy and daddy will pay for it? I'll bet he takes 3 credits a semester and spends his days playing XBox and growing his hair. I don't know. I'm just really fired up over what went down last night. I hate how the Bra-gade completely manipulated Britney into doing their bidding and walked away with all the prizes in the process. The Bra-gade is the worst thing to happen to this season. They made game playing boring, winning not necessary, and acting like a scumbag par for the course. Worse still, Hayden could very easily win BB12. I think I'd rather listen to Rachel give nauseating interviews to Entertainment Weekly than know that Hayden won the money by being a scared paranoid little puppy dog who puts himself before all others. I'm organizing a midnight sex spell I've written to get Hayden out of this game once and for all. Reply in the comments if you want to join in. I'm gonna need a lot of particpants with zero inhibitions for this to work properly.

Now, we arrive at Wrath. *thunder clap* I'm going to give Wrath to one Mr. Ragan Fox. Ragan may seem spindly and weak on the outside, but he's the only person to ever put that beak-nosed parrot face in her place and I truly believe that it was his inner rage that instigated it all. You see, Ragan is a political sort of guy. He writes poems and does radio shows about a whole myriad of topics of injustice. In other words, things in the world make him angry and he reacts to them. Whether it's in limmerick form or marching in a Pride parade, Ragan is fueled by what unsettles him. He's trapped in a big stinky testicle house of heterosexual men yet he's the only person to take a stand against someone, rip her to shreds, and sound intelligent while doing it. You're a lying sack of doody if you say that the fights aren't what you live for while watching Big Brother. Without Ragan we wouldn't have had our most delicious fight of the season. It's been parodied, it's been recapped, it's been animated... that fight is all we have to cling onto in this otherwise doldrum house. As rabid fans we search and speculate for madness that might be festering. Over and over again we come up empty handed so instead we crawl into bed and think back on Lydia ripping Ass Licker a new one or Jeff telling Russell he "got got". Ahhh, the good ole days. Big outspoken personalities are what bring the drama and I'm sad to say the only people to step up to the plate this season are Ragan and Rachel. I think Kristen could have delivered had she stuck around. She's doesn't take any bullshit from anyone as we've witnessed only just yesterday when she outed the phonies bidding on her hippietard. I would have loved a Kristen, Ragan, Britney alliance. I could have been happy with them in the Final 3. Instead I'm stuck with a bunch of dummies who do nothing, say nothing, and inspire nothing. *sigh* It's depressing.

We now come to Sloth. *thunder clap* Sloth could very easily apply to several of the HG's, but I'm gonna go ahead and pin it on Lane. Lane is completely nonessential to this game. I'm sure he's nice and all that, but what the hell is he doing in Big Brother? I mean, come on! He doesn't care when he's nominated, he doesn't try win a damn thing, and I'm pretty sure he could give two shits if he went to the Jury House tonight. He's a giant athletic type of guy who simply refuses to put any of the skills he has to good use. Nothing ever phases Lane and that's doubly infuriating. He's the polar opposite of Ragan when it comes to social injustice. Ragan gets fired up, makes signs, and takes a stand. Lane shrugs his shoulders, pops a beer, and kicks back in his LazyBoy to watch the game. If it's not knocking on his door threatening hisself or his family, then Lane could really give a flying fuck. Any time he has to talk Britney into doing something stupid, he sighs and begrudgingly climbs the stairs to the HOH. Talking game interrupts his grueling floating in the pool schedule. He's boring, I wouldn't notice if he suddenly disappeared, and he's a member of that stupid Bra-gade. So yeah, Lane winning this season would be a complete clusterfuck. I can't imagine anyone wanting to read an interview with this guy. A journalist would ask, "Lane, what do you feel was your strongest move of the game?" Lane would reply, "Well, ummm, I'm not sure really. Do you have a floatie on you? I've got a hankering to hang out by the pool." The only thing of interest Lane has done this season was to get caught masturbating and even that was bloody boring! The most exciting part was when he rinsed his hand off. I rarely even talk about Lane in this here fancy blog because he doesn't inspire me in the least. At least Rachel gave me something to work with. She had personality (albeit a horrible and wretched one) and wouldn't shut up. Lane gives me nothing.

This brings us to Envy. *thunder clap* You're not gonna understand it at first, but let me explain it and eventually you'll hop onboard and get it. I am assigning Envy to Britney. She's not the petty jealous type that Rachel is. Rachel's envy stems from her own insecurity of being a vile hose beast. Britney's envy is a little more complicated than that. Britney is envious of brotherhood and comraderie. Brit is a gals gal who's done the sorority thing and dealt with catty bitches her entire life. She's southern and grew up in pageants so hairspray and make-up have been a part of her world from a very young age. Deep down inside Britney just wants to talk dirty, scratch herself, and hang out with the dudes. She's got a wicked sense of humor that's not always appropriate in southern circles so she stifles it and instead thinks evil thoughts to herself. In the Big Brother house, however, this underdeveloped tomboy side she has not only flourished, but delighted us all with merriment and glee. She was the comedy force behind Just The Tip, she can crack up a room full of dudes and not break a sweat, and she'll stay up all night getting chum chunks on her with nary a complaint. The only problem with all of this is that when it comes down to the wire, the penis people are going to cut Britney out and she'll find herself alone with the despicable failures in the Jury House. It's Britney's envy of the brotherhood that caused her colossal mistake this week. I think in her effort to infiltrate the guys, she lost sight of herself and her own game thus letting them manipulate her much more easily than it should have been. She's completely blind to the alliance before her and instead of running her own HOH, she got suckered into running it for the guys. It's a horrible horrible shame because I would have loved to have seen Britney get to the Final 2. Unfortunately, it's gonna take a whole lot of miracles and perhaps a ball of twine and duct tape for that to happen. I'll keep my fingers crossed for Britney, but I also won't be surprised if tonight is her last night in the house.

Finally, we arrive at Pride. *thunder clap* Pride is the most difficult of all the 7 Deadly Sins to conquer. I learned that by watching Charmed I'll have you know. This one, of course, is a no brainer. Pride falls upon the wee little non super genius himself, Matt. Matt's pride first emerged in Week 3. He was so overcome with self love and all the goofy labels and personalities he'd assigned to himself that he thought getting out the most powerful twosome in the house was no big deal. His monumental mistake not only affected the entire BB12 season, but it also planted the very first seed in the minds of the Bra-gade that Matt is someone who can't be trusted. Had he been all Bra-gade, all the time, he might not find himself in the perdicament he's in now. Instead, he thought he knew better than everyone else, he spent hours fondling his own balls, and smirking at his own reflection, that he failed to see the doubt and mistrust in the eyes of his closest friends. Matt was a promising player who had small stature on his side. How he managed to fuck it all up still astounds me. He had America (well, the weird short man lovers) rooting for him, he had some smarts, and then he said, "Hey, it's the diabolical super genius here..." and we all just kind of groaned and rolled our eyes. Worse still, you know he sat around and planned that moniker for weeks before entering the BB house. That wasn't something that was spontaneous in the DR. It was carefully planned and he probably thought it was gonna get him places in life. Instead, he finds himself with one foot out the door, no friends to call his own, and America ready to pounce for the diseased wife lie.... all because his pride got in the way of his game. Pathetic. Absolutely unequivocally pathetic. So sayonara Matty Boy... you truly deserve what you're getting tonight. You will never be a music star and you will never be a sex symbol. I suggest you go back home, make it up to your wife, and stop being such a monumental douchebag. Never do reality tv again. Just focus on your little web design profession and see a shrink to break you of your disgusting ball cradling habit. Thank you.

Sooooo, do Ragan and Britney have a chance in hell to stick around for another few weeks? Do you think Matt outing the Bra-gade would have helped him stay? Will BB address the chocolate milk incident? How long do you think Kathy's lifeless body has been at the bottom of the pool? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Artwork in today's blog is by Marta Dahlig.

Grody Stinky Balls

There have been a great many grand sweeping windy love stories throughout time. Romeo & Juliet, Rhett & Scarlett, Paris & Helen, Stanley & Stella, Phoebe & Cole, Tristan & Isolde, Lizzie & Darcy... the list goes on and on. They capture our hearts and give us hope that there's a meaning to all the madness and everyday crap we go through. They make the moon sparkle, our loins quiver, and have us wondering more often than not, "What the hell am I doing with this dolt lying next to me? I need a Cole or a Scarlett in my life." Yes, romance is powerful and beautiful and sprinkled in fairy dust and dipped in chocolate and all the rest of it. There is but one downfall to a great love affair... the scorned lover. *shivers* There is nothing quite as unpredicatable or as scary as a scorned lover. You could come home one day and find your clothes thrown willy nilly all over the front lawn or your bunny boiling in a pot. There is truly no telling just how far a scorned lover will go. They may tell your friends all your dirty bedroom secrets or post naked photos of you on the internet or maybe they just sit in a corner flicking a lamp on and off and quietly seethe. Those are the scariest in my opinion - the quiet cerebral ones who systematically search for ways to destroy you. Their approach is subtle and skilled. They may not skin your cat or cut the crotches out of all your underwear; instead, they'll start a rumor... a slow festering puss filled rumor that'll creep about slowly infecting everyone who comes into contact with it. Yup, it's definitely the liars you have to look out for. And right about now I'm thinking that the incorrectly self proclaimed diabolical super genius is one such person. Let's recap, shall we?

Before we get to the collapsed love affair of Ragan & Matt, let us address the big controversy that's taken over the internet: Enzo ate food. *gasps as thunder rumbles in the distance* Twitter fans and angry blog commenters alike have taken it upon themselves to grab their placards, charter buses, and organize marches on Washington (thanks Creme!) for the liberation of the justification of the beautifcation of the "We Love Matt" movement... or something like that. Matt fans everywhere furiously punched CBS phone numbers into their iPhone's and left lengthy angry voicemails. Sit-ins were organized, boycotts were planned, and innocent penguins were murdered - one on the hour every hour - until Enzo got his due. You see, the Penguin himself has taken to stuffing food into the belly of his costume and whipping it out to enjoy a tasty treat when he thinks he's going unnoticed. First off, Enzo is a fucking moron. He's been living in a house of cameras for the past 300 days (it feels that long so just go with it) and he truly thinks he can slip something past Big Brother. Look, you guys, Big Brother has a team of P.A.'s watching this shit around the clock and documenting every single thing that goes on. They know Enzo cheated. They know exactly what's going on and you know what? They really don't seem to care. Manipulation is one of Big Brother's most popular traits. Big Brother is supposed to play with the minds of the people he's controlling. Not to get too Orwellian, but "Big Brother" is, in fact, omniscient and always correct. If BB wants Enzo to get off without a penalty, then Enzo will get off without a penalty. I'm not sure that rioting in the streets and tweeting (what are most likely incorrect phone numbers) are really going to change anything. It's happened in past seasons where HG's have snuck food in the bathrooms and have gone unpunished. Jen got punished on BB8 because she made a big dramatic to-do about it and did it out in the open purposely flauting BB's laws. I don't know. I just think it's kind of funny that a flurry of fans who absolutely hate it when BB interferes are now, essentially, begging for BB to interfere. Get over yourselves. It's a game. Furthermore, Matt will not fall in love with you when he gets out of the house. Deal with it.

OK so back to the task at hand. Ragan is all pissed off because Matt, his in-house bestie and lover, actually suggested to Britney that Ragan go up on the block in his place. Knowing that his confidant and paramour was so willing to turn on him has basically destroyed Ragan's belief in good and evil, right and wrong, and hot and cold. It never even entered Ragan's mind that the one guy he's shared long lazy convos in the hammock with could be so heartless and uncaring. I feel bad for Ragan. I know what it's like to put your trust into someone only to have them turn into a total asshole and betray you. People like that are insecure, jealous, and probably rotting inside being eaten alive by their own hate. Matt strikes me as one such person. I say this because even in the wake of his nomination, he's still sprinkling mentions of his poor diseased wife into conversation... conversations with Ragan no less! If anything, I thought he'd apologize and fess up in an effort to avoid the post-BB hate that's bound to come. Or at least I thought he'd nix mentioning Stacey when he knows very well that the truth will destroy Ragan even more. Never in my wildest dreams did I think Matt would continue to pursue, and use, the diseased wife lie.

The diabolical super genius is in fact an insecure selfish guy desperate for fame. This isn't his first reality show and I have a feeling, if he has it his way, it won't be his last. Maybe his mother didn't hug him enough or he didn't get laid a lot in college. I'm not sure, but something somewhere went wonky in his upbringing and it's resulted in his testicles being a security blanket. Am I the only one who finds that habit of his to be really fucking disgusting? He touches things in the house all the time! The kitchen counters, door handles, weights, the HOH remote control, an innocent Sprite bottle... everything in that damn house is covered in Matt's penis! Imagine if a chick sat around with her hand down her pants all the time. She'd be labeled a perv and Francis Farmer'd into a lobotomy. Ok maybe not a lobotomy, but my view of mental institutions is very 1940's and filled with bizarre operations, unfeeling nurses, and all sorts of electrical probes. The point I'm making is that Matt's hand down the pants is not charming, it's not cute, and it's not funny. It's a nasty hotel comforter black light health hazard. If I was in that house I'd demand gloves and a giant tub of those Lysol disinfectant wipes. What's even more nauseating is that Matt's nasty little habit is actually contagious. Now, Enzo lies around with his hand on his junk and I'm pretty sure garlicky olive-oiled Jersey junk on the sliding glass door handle is enough to make anyone never want to go outside again. No wonder that house smells! It's akin to living nestled next to a fat man's balls in tight one size too small jockeys. Yuck!

So Ragan is devastated. He's burned all the love poems, scattered the ashes into the wind, and has decided there's no way in hell he's ever gonna vote for Matt to stay or win this game. Ragan is also pissed off that he ever bothered to campaign for that little douchebag when he was on the block. Worse still, Matt is now using Ragan's campaigning last week against him. He's telling the others that he never asked Ragan to do that and that Ragan is clearly someone who can't be trusted. As if Ragan's back doesn't have enough steel blades lodged into it, Matt has now taken to using Ragan as a sacrificial lamb in an effort to save himself. Matt tells Hayden that Ragan's real targets are Hayden and Enzo not Brendon. He promises that if he stays in the game, he'll deliver all of Ragan's info to the Bra-gade. He's BG for life. *smacks chest and flashes gang sign* Matt goes on to tell Lane that Ragan is no longer the soft and emotional gay puppy who could be manipulated. Now, he's a rabid dog lusting to infect innocent bystanders. Matt wants Lane or Atticus Finch to take him out. If they can't shoot him, then maybe they should start studying harder. Matt advises Lane that Ragan knows that house inside and out and that the Bra-gade need to get their shit together and start memorizing.

Lane listens to everything Matt says and just kind of nods. Matt senses that he's not be taken seriously so he clutches at more some straws and says that he thinks Ragan now has a side alliance with Enzo and Britney. LOL That's funny. Worst. Lie. Ever. Enzo can't stand Britney and Ragan. Matt, of all people, should know that Lane's not gonna buy a lie like that. It's sad and fascinating at the same time to witness the unraveling of one Mr. Matt Hoffman. To Ragan's face he's apologetic, sweet, and saying he wants to go gay clubbing with him (of course he does), then behind his back he's calling him crazy, unpredictable, and scary. If he had a brain cell in his head rather than in his pants, he'd just out the Bra-gade already, get Ragan and Brendon to vote for him to stay, and have Britney break the tie and keep him in the house. It's logical, smart, and actually possible to pull off. This alternative of slandering Ragan and inventing phony alliances isn't going to get Matt anywhere at all. He's too transparent to pull it off. He should just stick with the truth (the Bra-gade), the people who were his closest friends (Ragan and Britney), and work his ass off to stay another week.

Later on in the night we find a semi-paranoid Hayden. Look, Hayden's not a bad guy per se, I just have a huge problem with the way he's playing this game. He turns on his alliances faster than you can say "Kristen" and it strikes me as slightly creepy. I'm pretty sure there's a way to play this game without betraying your best friends and lovers in the house. Instead of winning and taking control of his own BB experience, Hayden is happy to let everyone else do the dirty work for him as long as he stays off the block. The only game he's playing consists of asking everyone who they'd vote to win in the Final 2. He takes that info and uses it to create side alliances. Lucky for him, it's working so far and, regretfully, I can see him winning the whole kit and caboodle. It's like another Jordan winning. Sure, she won the money, but she got to the end not by her own devices. She got to the end by being carried there and having a jury who voted emotionally rather than strategically. She's a half a mil richer, but I don't respect her for it and I never will. I won't respect Hayden for a BB12 win either. Actually, the only people I can respect winning this season right now are Britney and Ragan. They're not flawless, but they're the only ones, besides Kristen, who've stood up for what they believed in. I respect their balls. It's as simple as that.

So, can the Ragan/Matt love affair ever be mended? How insane-o do you think Ragan will go when he finds out that Matt lied about his wife's disease? Do you think Matt should out the Bra-gade and tell Brendon the truth as to what's really going on? How many Hazmat teams will it take to clean that BB house from top to bottom? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Don't forget to check out the most exciting BB eBay auction ever! Kristen's hippietard is killing it! Check it out and bid HERE.

Wishy Washy Suckfest

Yesterday someone, I won't say who (her name is STACKED), left a comment in the wee hours of the morn suggesting I sacrifice my prized leprechaun, Mr. O'Shaugnessy, in order to get Britney to nominate Hayden. It's not like Mr. O is worth his weight in gold or anything! Oh alright, so maybe he is, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna boil him up for the worst season of Big Brother ever! What you bitches don't seem to understand is that my leprechaun is a lot more than just someone I kick around now and again. He packs my opium, he stirs my gin, he holds my balls of yarn when I knit, and I'll have you know he's quite the lover. Mr. O can curl my toes like no other. You'd think he was an Argentinian polo player or a long haired romance novel cover model rather than a ornery tiny person with flaming red chest hair. I was actually considering bringing over some of Mr. O's brothers from Dublin to sell on eBay. I was gonna give you guys the opportunity to bid first before I opened up my auctions to the general public, but forget it now. I can just see the whole lot of you sadistic whores harming some of the beloved O'Shaugnessy clan for your own personal gain. Yes, leprechaun's are magical, but they can also be ruthless little monkeys if you don't treat them right.

I first found Mr. O while on a week long holiday in Ireland. I had just seen that movie Veronica Guerin and I wanted to go to Dublin to pretend I was Cate Blanchett sniffing out drug dealers. I had always loved Cate and thought I'd have no problem pretending to be a stubborn journalist while sporting a sassy new short haircut. I had practiced my brogue, packed my Michael Flatley DVD's and a couple bars of Irish Spring, and bought a giant cable knit sweater just for the occasion. I called everyone I met a "wee lassie" and I ate a lot meat packed stews. One day, while searching for Bono's house, I got lost and found myself in the middle of a giant field of peat. From my history lessons I knew that back in the olden timey days people were sacrificed in the magical bogs of peat. I'm not sure why, but I think it could have been for messing up in clogging class or something. So anyhow, there I was all alone with the wind in my hair when I started to weep. I just knew that some stray Gaelic speaking clansman was gonna see my cute self, claim me for his own, have his way with me, and then sacrifice me later in a weird ritualistic Druid ceremony I wouldn't understand one word of. I always knew I was gonna be a prized posession, but not to some hairy guy in a skirt who decorated with too many plaids.

Sad and hopeless I cried myself to sleep and awaited my fate. The next morning I awoke to find myself in a meticulous tree house that smelled like cookies and cabbage. I opened my eyes slowly to find a small red headed creature scurrying back and forth from the oven to the kitchen table. He was smoking a pipe and muttering to himself about his cookies not being chewy enough. I was at once scared yet fascinated. Who was this silly little man? Would he hurt me or just feed me well? Sensing me stirring in my bed made of hay he came over to me and smiled. He said, "'Ello wee lassie, ya fancy a smoke and a pint?" Why, it was the cutest thing I'd ever seen! I grabbed him by the neck, pulled him into bed with me, and we spent the next week doing unspeakable things with heads of cabbage. It was bliss. I brought him back to America with me and here we live happily ever after. So, no, no I will not sacrifice my leprechaun! It was fate that I found him in the first place. Let's recap, shall we?

Our pageant princess Britney seems to have herself a decision making problem. Should she put Matt or Hayden on the block? At first it seemed like there was no way in hell she'd put Matt up for eviciton. As soon as she'd won HOH she assured both Matt and Ragan that they were 100% safe. After Brendon won POV and ruined, well, everything, Britney became scared of making too many enemies. If she puts up Hayden, then Enzo, Lane, and Brendon will be mad at her. If she puts up Matt, Ragan will be mad at her. What's a girl to do?

First, you don't worry about who's gonna be mad at you. What the hell Britney?!? You're a tough chick. Make a decision and stick with it! Think it out logically. Do you really think the boys club on the other side of the house are going to keep you in this game for another week? Doesn't it strike you as odd that they never win anything? Also, wasn't Enzo talking shit about you just last week? Come on girl! Get it together.

The problem in why this decision is so damn hard for Britney is Lane. Look, I don't mind Lane. He's funny in his DR's and all that, but when you stop to think about it he really doesn't do much else. I rarely write about him in this very blog because he never does anything. He doesn't fight with people and he doesn't win shit. Basically, he is drama-less which means he's a big ole bore. I'm sure he's lovely in person and it must be fun to go shoot stuff with him, but in the game of Big Brother he's a ginormous beefy yawnfest. If he left tomorrow, I honestly can't say that the house wouldn't be any different. That's how insignificant he is. He floats in the pool, he lifts his weights, and he sleeps. That's about it. If he actually stood up to someone and made some power moves I might think differently, but for now he's inconsequential to my enjoyment of the game.

Actually, what the hell am I talking about? I hate this game. I hate it with every fiber of my being. It's work for me to watch the damn feeds anymore. I half ass it and go to onlinebigbrother.com instead to catch up on everything I missed. My house is clean, I sleep like 9 hours a night, I watch movies, I work, I paint exquisite flower pictures that may or may not look like vaginas... the point is, I'm getting an unusual amount of shit done for a Big Brother season. Usually, I'm up all night hunched over my laptop madly typing important notes I mustn't forget. I'd live off of canned goods and leftover crackers because I'd be too afraid to go to the grocery store and miss anything. I'd fight with idiots in the chat rooms because I'd be so passionate about who I was rooting for that I'd take it upon myself to defend them to the death. Now, instead, I lie in bed, watch Bravo shows, play 18 Words With Friends games at once, and check my Twitter for what's going on in the house. I search the dark cavernous recesses of my mind trying to find ways to make this blog interesting. Big Brother is so fucking boring that I choose to live in a fantasy world of ritual human sacrifice and fanciful mythical creatures rather than focus on game play. I'm gonna be honest with you guys, it is so hard for me to find any joy whatsoever in this season. The other day someone asked me, "So, what do you do, you watch the Feeds all day and write about them?" I replied, "No, I just make shit up." She said, "And people read that?" I said, "Yeah, you'd be surprised how many." She said, "Well, good for you." I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, "Yeah... good for me."

I HATE BIG BROTHER 12!!! Are you fucking listening to me Allison Grodner? Why the hell did you cast such boring idiots for me to write about? How you call yourself an Executive Producer of anything is beyond me. Your twists aren't going to save this damn season so enough already!Here's what I want you to do. I want you to hire an Israeli Commando and blow up the fucking house. Use some C4 or toilet paper dipped in gasoline. I don't care how you do it, just fucking do it. Put an end to this madness, fire Robyn Kass, fire yourself, and then hand the reins over to whomever is running the Bad Girls Club. If BB13 isn't All Stars 2, then I want a bunch of nutty broads who have no problem getting naked and punching each other in the face. If you can't manage to do that, then I want devices implanted into each of the HG's brains that make throwing competitions excruciatingly painful. Call NASA, the FBI, the CIA, the Vatican... someone somewhere must have the technology to make a small metal electronic genital zapper that can sense when an HG is about to throw a comp.

Better yet, why don't you just go ahead and visit a parole officer? Cast 13 ex-cons with violent pasts and let them all kill each other for the grand prize. Or you could do an Agatha Christie type thing where the HG's wake up to find another HG murdered in their bed. Houseguests would have to figure out who the killer is or else end up dying a tragic death. Maybe have a Gladiator season. With the overwhelming success of Spartacus: Blood and Sand, gladiators are very hot right now. Cast a bunch of big beefy guys and let them fight to the death. Maybe for POV they can wrestle with a lion or something. We'll call the show Big Brother Ludus and they'll wear nothing but loin cloths for 10 weeks. If that's impossible because PETA will throw a big tantrum over the whole lion thing, then might I suggest Big Brother: Drag Queen Version? You get 14 bitchy drag queens who have innovative ways of turning a phrase (shit like "throwing shade" or just randomly shouting "gorgonzola!") and let them have run of the house for the summer. You wouldn't even need to have big dramatic competitions. Just let them hurl "Yo Mama" insults to one another in the backyard and the last one left standing wins. Look AG (and CBS), I've given you some amazing suggestions for how to bring this show back to life. I want you to call me, hire me, and we'll make this happen.

OK I'm sorry about all that. I've been holding this shit in for weeks now and I just needed to let loose. I'm not stopping the blog or anything like that. I'd never do that to you guys. I'll continue to cover this travesty. I just wanted it in writing how much this season makes me want to hurl myself out of a window and land face first onto a rusty spike.

So yeah, Britney can't make a decision about Matt. Matt convinced her to keep him, then Lane convinced her to dump him, then Ragan convinced her to keep him again, then Hayden convinced her to dump him again. I don't know if Britney is really this wishy washy and easily swayed or if she's already made her decision and is just playing everyone. If you remember a few days ago she lied to Brendon telling him how hard it was for her to make a decision about who to nominate. I'm hoping she's doing something similar to that now. I'm hoping that she's already got it fixed in her mind that she's going to put up Hayden and stick tight with her pals Matt and Ragan. If she keeps Enzo in this game, then I fear her days are numbered. If I'm left having to recap this shit with only Bra-gade members in the house, I'm gonna get Ophelia on everyone's ass and fall into a brook and "accidentally" drown. Instead of handing out rue, the herb of regret, I'll eat it myself and shrivel up my insides while dying a slow and painful foaming at the mouth death while lying in a creek 12 inches deep. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do.

So, how do you think Britney will nominate today? Do you think she's playing everyone and she already knows very well what's she's gonna do? How will you take your own life if we're stuck with all Bra-gade members for the final weeks? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! No blog tomorrow. Something suddenly came up.

One more thing: Please check out the hippetard up for auction over at eBay. It's the one cool item from this season. Kristen is even throwing in the wig! Pretty awesome. Bid HERE.

The Penguin Who Won't Stop Whining

There once was a girl named Megan. She was a lively girl with a vivid imagination who dreamt of being a filmmaker ever since she was a small child. Her dad had gotten her a plastic Playskool camcorder one Christmas and her stop motion Barbie films were legendary at family reunions. It was when Megan got to high school and saw that movie Thirteen that her Barbie flicks got a little "questionable" in subject and went underground. Megan was really into Seattle grunge rock at the time so her Barbie was a major heroin addict who passed out a lot under bridges and traded sexual favors for smack. They were poignant funny films that helped her get all the way to UCLA Film School. She looooved being in the film program. She wore a lot of black and hung out in coffee shops planning Fritz Lang film festivals with her equally arty friends. She smoked clove cigarettes, made out with androgynous boys, and dreamt of being the next female Godard. She wanted to bring French New Wave to America and tell studio heads to "shove it" if they ever dared to tweak her scripts. She saw The Player -every film student saw The Player... that opening tracking shot alone *drool* - so she knew how Hollywood could take something smart and innovative and turn into something fluffy and crappy. Megan (like Homie) wasn't gonna play that. She was going to be a trendsetter, a provacateur.

Graduation came and went and film jobs were few and far between. The only gigs she could get were as a Production Assistant on ambitious underbudgeted Independent films where she was essentially a slave and made only a $40/week stipend or as a coffee girl on lame TV shows... not even Network shows - just some one season basic cable crap. She thought of heading to New York where the film scene was slightly more cerebral, but New York City was expensive - a hell of a lot more expensive than L.A.. So, Megan decicded to bide her time in the mean streets of beautiful downtown Burbank while she saved up for her big move to the elitist East Coast.

Then came the summer of 2010. There was an opening for an Assistant on the Set Production team for the reality show Big Brother. She'd seen the show before and thought it actually might be fun to help construct sets for the competitions. She took a Stage Construction class at UCLA so she knew her way around a drill and a buzz saw. Besides, it paid well and could help her get to NYC. Her first weeks on set were exciting. Her team would work into the wee morning hours painstakingly constructing complicated and labor intensive gigantic competition sets. She loved watching the CBS shows and seeing the HG's swing from a rope she'd hung or race along an obstacle course she'd spent days putting together. For the first time in her fledging film career Megan began to feel a sense of pride. She was a part of something. She belonged.

Around Week 3 Megan began to notice something on the CBS shows that caused her great distress. The HG's were actually THROWING COMPETITIONS and making all her hard work seem insignificant. It was infuriating especially since she was exhausted, dirty, and now missing a thumbnail due to an unfortunate spinning paint can accident. How dare those selfish assholes turn 48 hours of manual labor into 35 minutes of phoniness! She'd inhaled enough sawdust to give her the black lung. Her thighs were so bruised she could never wear shorts lest people think she was a battered girlfriend. Just last week her lesbian best friend, Babs, lost her arm in a horrible chain saw accident while constructing the booths for the trivia contest. Watching Matt grab his crotch, wink, and give a thumbs up to the audience while he purposely gave the wrong answer was like someone jumping up and down on Babs' mutilated and mangled tattooed arm. So when Megan arrived to set bright and early this weekend and heard Prodcuction talking about how Matt might go home, Megan smiled. She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. Sure, everyone could see where the giant paintbrush has knocked out her incisor tooth, but she didn't care. Someone was gonna pay for Babs' arm and that someone was that overly cocky selfish asshole Matt. Let's recap, shall we?

I'm gonna start where all the drama started - the POV competition. This POV comp was so multi-faceted that people are still debating over exactly who won what. Here's what we know: Lane won a phone call home, Enzo got a penguin suit for a week, Hayden won $5000, Matt or Hayden won a trip to Hawaii, Brendon is on slop until the end of the season, Britney has to be handcuffed to Brendon for 24 hours, Brendon had to shave his head, and Brendon has to take a chum bath every 24 hours. The debate is over exactly what Matt and Hayden won. For some reason, Britney wasn't able to watch all of the competition and some Bra-gade members might be lying to her over who won what. I've heard that Hayden has won both the money and the trip and that Matt has won both the money and the trip. I think it's safe to say that Hayden won something and Matt won something. There's no way Matt walked out of that comp with nothing - either good or bad.

Another big question is whether or not Matt threw the POV. Matt fans on Twitter (the bullies of the #BB12 hashtag) are quick to jump to their tiny love interest's defense claiming we have no idea whether or not he threw it. Listen up chunky monkeys, Britney herself said that she was pissed off that only she, Brendon, and Enzo were the ones fighting for POV and not for prizes. That's proof enough that your golden boy Matt and his giant ego threw yet another comp. I don't like when anyone throws comps. It angers me and makes Endurance challenges boring as all get out. Yes, Matt has won Endurance comps in the past, but the only reason he won those comps is because Ragan let him win them. We have yet to witness a bona fide Endurance comp with two people truly duking it out to the end. What happened to the Endurance comps of yesteryear? Comps that took hours and hours to play with HG's contorted in strange positions and pissing themselves because they refused to give up and use a toilet. I'm not an Evil Dick fan by any means, but the BB8 Endurance comps were nothing short of awesome. I want them back dammit! I want to stay up until 5 AM (EST) watching HG's shivering in cold and crying from pain.

Alright, enough of my bitching. After the POV comp Britney was upset and crying. Hell, if I had to be chained up to Bitch Boy for even 5 minutes I'd be crying my eyes out and punching inanimated objects so, yes, I completely understood her pain and hold nothing against her. At the same time, I think we all knew Brendon was gonna win this comp. I was anticipating it and I was ok with it becuase I thought that maybe Enzo would go home instead. Little did I know that Lane and the Bra-gade has it in their heads that Matt is not only a weasle, but is also the Sabateur. Their logic is that Matt had 2 weeks to use the DPOV which is also the 2 weeks Mr. Salvatore did all his damage. Put 2 and 2 together and voila! Matt is now the Saboteur. So, the Bra-gade is working overtime convincing Britney that Matt needs to go on the block and Ragan needs to go next week. Britney is scared to death she'll be the one to go home next week. Lane tells her sure she'll be going on the block, but Ragan will be going home. She asks what happens if Ragan wins the POV. Lane gets quiet and says, "Oh umm we haven't thought that far yet." As much as dislike Matt and don't give two shits if he goes home, I think it's in Britney's best interest to put up a Bra-gade member and just go ahead and get Enzo out this week. Let's let the curse of the costume live on.

I don't entirely blame the Bra-gade for getting into Britney's head so fast and so furious. Matt and Ragan had hours before Britney was to be handcuffed to Brendon and how do you suppose they spent those hours? Ragan tried to nap and Matt lied around with his hoody wide open and his hand down his pants. They knew something was up. They knew something stank in suburbia. Instead, they wasted precious hours being overly confident and not doing a damn thing. Ragan had reason to feel midly safe so I don't blame him as much I blame Matt. Britney had spent time crying with Ragan over what good friends they were, so chances are he was gonna be safe this week no matter what. Matt, on the other hand, not only threw HOH and most likely the POV, but he also sat around doing nothing when he should have been strategizing. Napolean was exiled to Elba. Can we please send Matt to a remote island in the South Pacific? Specifically one with head hunters and cannibals. Hell, I'd even settle for a leper colony at this point. This cocky nongenius needs to get his due and if it's in the form of angry Melorheotosis patients then so be it. I'm envisioning an angry mob of brittle people with canes, wheelchairs, and IV's banging angrily on Matt's windows. It'll kind of be like that seen in the Thriller video where the zombies break into the house and surround MJ and the chick. If a Melorheotosis choreographed dance followed this invasion, it'll be even better. We'll get Michael Peters to do it and the patients can clink canes in the air or some shit like that. Is John Landis still alive? It could be like a We Are The World thing only it won't feed Ethiopians or shelter Haitians, it'll get Boniva for a bunch of broken hospital patients. I'm predicting a number one hit.

OK so this brings me to BBAD which I'm watching as I type this. Britney and Brendon are handcuffed together and I really have to hand it to them. They're both laughing at their circumstance and working together to make the best of an unfortunate situation. Britney is helping Brendon by being more than accomodating with her HOH room. She stands next to him as he does his chumb bath with nary a complaint to be heard. Brendon, too, has impressed me. Yes, I hate him and I hope he gets a horrible case of Mange from his harlot, but he's doing his chum bath like a trooper and with a smile on his face. I can't fault him for that - not at all. I'm actually finding the other HG's to be much more despicable than Brendon right about now. The bell dinged for Brendon to take his chum bath and he announces, "Here I go! Chum bath #1!" Not one person got up to go watch him. Not one person cheered him on or even stood by to laugh. Instead they stayed put in their lazy supine positions and mumbled, "Yeah whatever." Remember when Zach in BB8 had to do his hourly shower thing (I can't remember what is was specifically)? Everyone came out and laughed and high fived when he did it the first time. There was support and they made it something fun. This lame ass crew is so self absorbed they're not even pretending to make an effort. I don't know why, but I really found it to be disappointing. Kudos to Britney and Brendon for making the best out of a shitty situation. I'm taking a swig of gin (one for me) and spilling a little bit on the ground for you (and one for my homies). Respect. *flashes gang sign*

Meanwhile, Enzo is off in some corner bitching about being in a penguin suit. Are you shitting me? Are you seriously fucking shitting me?! Bitch Boy is covered in dead fish and Britney has to wake up every hour to get splattered with chum and you're complaining about wearing a roomy costume with a bowtie? Unbelievable. I'm gonna say something I never thought would escape my lips: I like Brendon more than Enzo. How's that for a turn of events? The guy shaved his head and has to eat slop for 3 weeks! Enzo is dressed up like a penguin from the Madagascar movies. No comparison. The nerve he has to bitch about something like that. Furthermore, I heard he had the chance to shave his head, but turned it down. Dude, you have NO hair anyways! Shaving your head not only would have been cool, but might have actually improved your appearance. If a Britney/Brendon alliance comes from this, I wouldn't hate it. I could almost be satisfied with it because at least we know these two will never throw a comp.

Let's see, what else, what else? Oh! Britney opened Pandora's Box and got an hour of "advice" from Jessie while the other HG's got a Luau in the backyard. According to Britney, all Jessie talked about was himself and weightlifting. I'm surprised he didn't talk about his secret phone conversations with the married Ragamuffin. All I know is there were a bunch of angry former HG's last night. I keep in touch with quite a few and the only reason I knew Jessie was in the house in the first place was from the texts I got. Too funny. I feel your pain guys, but I honestly think Alison Grodner must be fucking him or something. I mean, why else would she keep bringing him back? I can picture it now. AG in her Spanish style brick home in the Hollywood Hills wearing nothing but a see through negligee while lighting the Pottery Barn candles in her living room. Her curly hair hangs wild down her back while her thighs sensually rub together. Jessie wearing aqua and yellow polka dotted spandex pants rings the doorbell and prepares himself for the night ahead. It's kinda like when Eddie Murphy had to sleep with Eartha Kitt in Boomerang. Jessie wonders if AG's bedroom can maybe get just a tiny bit darker. He's already blown out all the candles, but the moon - that damn moon! - keeps shining into her bedroom and right onto the bed. AG croons, "Hey Mr. Pectacular, how'd you like to go back into the BB house?" Jessie says yes, sighs, slides off his spandex, and begins to make sweet love to our Executive Producer. When AG squeals, the coyotes outside squeal with her. Never has Jessie hated the moon more.

So, what do you think about the big POV? Can Enzo be anymore of a baby? Do you have any respect for Bitch Boy now? Are you happy that Grodner can no longer get pregnant? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Looking For 9 Virgins

OK so I need to fess up about something. I was not babysitting for a friend yesterday. I was, in fact, out gathering virgins. You see, the new spell I've been working on was so multi faceted that it called for "7 nubile sacrificial virgins" in addition to the spotted owl feather I was gonna have to steal and the wooly mammoth tusk I was forced to dig for. My day began like a predator's might. I rented a windowless van, donned some Magnum P.I. glasses, and drove back and forth on the mean streets of Virginia. Spotting a virgin takes skill, practice, and a speculum. Back in the olden timey days of the Etruscans or the Ptolemites all you had to do was find an unmarried gal and you knew you had a virgin on your hands. Nowadays, in the black hole world of MTV and teen sexting, it takes a lot more than checking a ring finger to spot an untouched female. To facilitate my search for virgin blood, I put together a list of several questions I'd ask my prisoners. #1 Do you know who Alexander Skarsgard is and have you seen him naked? #2 Was Mickey Rourke a currency trader in the film 9 1/2 Weeks? #3 Do you or have you ever attended Catholic school? and #4 Are you or do you have any desire to be a neuroscientist? I figure if they answer yes to any of these questions, they're probably a ho bag slut face and not suitable for my spell. Fortunately, for BB fans everywhere I was able to find 7 virgins raring to go. Turns out all I needed to do was visit a cat store. That place is crawling with untouched spinsters!

With my gals all tied up to a long yellow rope I yanked and tugged and began the long hike up the highest mountain in Appalachia. Random moonshiners and grandmas rocking on their creaky porches looked at me quizically, but then decided to pay me no nevermind. It's always been the motto in the mountains of Virginey to mind one's own business and I've never been more thankful for that than I was yesterday. Once on my mountaintop perch I tied my virgins to a tree and went about gathering some wood for my cauldron. It was gonna take a whole mess of branches to get that pot boiling properly. I worked hard and fast always keeping one eye on my virgins. If one escaped, the plan would be shot to shit and I just couldn't risk that. Come hell or high water I was gonna get Britney to win that HOH dammit and nothing was going to stand in my way.

Using my Zippo with the Harley Davidson logo on it (a gift from Shambo), I lit my cauldron of doom and began my lengthy ritual. First, I disrobed and placed a crown of mountain wildflowers atop my head. The purple in the snapdragons totally brings out the green in my eyes. Just because you're in the woods, it's no reason to neglect proper color coordination. You never know what sort of bearded mountain man could be spying on you. Ok so I brought my pot to boil, chucked in the owl feather and the tusk I stole from the Smithsonian, and began to chant in Ancient Enochian. Translated it goes something like this: No more-a pizza pie, Enzo must-a go bye bye, a yo-yo here and a yo-yo there, Enzo can't seem to grow no hair. I think Whitman drew inspiration from those ancient words, but I'm not sure. With the tusk bobbing dangerously up and down I knew the giant scorching vat was ready. I went over to my squirming virgins and forcibly chucked them into the pot one by one. There were lots of angry "Quit your bitching!" and "I don't care if you are a nun!" quips flying out of my mouth, but eventually I got them all in and I was able to begin my sacred dance. I kicked one foot out, pointed my toe, snapped my elbows this way and that, and jutted my hips forward and backward. Yes, it's very similar to the dance Elaine Benes did at the office party. It may look spastic to some, but it's really like super powerful and whatnot.

After my herky jerky tarantella I collapsed, spent, into a thorny evergreen bush. I didn't really mind or even notice the tiny prickers piercing my skin. When you've reached a spiritual ecstasy like I had, pain has no meaning anymore. After several hours of quiet meditation (AKA a power nap), I slipped my clothes on over my blood spattered skin, emptied out the giant pot, and headed out to the nearest road to hitch for a ride back down the mountain. A donut seller named Mavis picked me up. She had a mean orange cat and a case of Lucky Strikes on her dash. I liked Mavis immediately. Her husky voice was soothing and her mullet made me giggle. I have a feeling Mavis and I will be friends for life. So yeah, that's where I was yesterday. Let's recap, shall we?

So, it was the big night of the DPOV and, for all intents and purposes, it was pretty anticlimactic. First, the dang thing crumbled into pieces and all the diamonds fell off of it. Next, Matt screwed up his carefully planned speech and C) We lost the sleepy Dragon Lady. Yes, it would have been frustraing had she sailed to the end, but deep down I, along with a shitload of other people, hoped that maybe, just maybe, Matt would put up Enzo. I guess Matt didn't have enough info to go on to warrant an Enzo eviction. Getting rid of Kathy is also an easy way not to ruffle too many feathers. Au revoir Kathy Faye, keep an eye out for a basket of Spam and Nicorette gum from yours truly. You were pretty boring in the house, but I drew great inspiration from your accent and I think The Tales Of Kathy Faye should become a Lifetime movie or something. Holly Hunter could play Kathy and Donald Sutherland could play her moonshining grandpappy. It'll be just as successful as those other great Lifetime movies: The Truth About Jane, Homeless to Harvard, and, my absolute favorite, Augusta Gone. Lifetime movies on a lazy rainy Sunday with a bottle of wine = heaven.

Kathy is gone, Matt is safe, and the house is absolutely floored. Ragan is flustered and caught in between wanting to jump for joy and weep in gratitude. He stares wide-eyed at his friend Matt and marvels at his tininess. Britney is our new HOH (hell yeah!) and Hayden is now confused, Enzo can't stop pacing, and Brendon is all sad and pouty. This dynamic will pretty much continue for the rest of the night. After the live show ended everyone was happy for Britney, but they couldn't really express exactly how happy they were until Bitch Boy was finally called to the DR. As soon as he leaves the kitchen area confetti dropped from the sky, a congo line started, and Ragan put on knee high gold glitter boots and a hot pink boa. It was celebration time! The HG's twirled and sang about how Bitch Boy is finally going home this week. At home I giggled in the merriment, but I also knew that the POV was probably going to be a tight jean wearing crotch sweating contest. The HG's can celebrate all they want, but I'm not planning my next party until I know for sure that the whiny Bitch Boy is going home. There's also a strict "No feeding the Leprechaun" rule that will be put into place at my next shindig. Whoever gave Mr. O'Shaugnessy those magic mushrooms last time is in deep shit. Do you have any idea how long it takes to convince a paranoid leprechaun he's not a glass of orange juice teetering on the edge of insanity? It takes like... a loooong time. Assholes.

While most of the house is shocked yet pleased that Matt has stayed, there is one frustrated Eye-talian who feels otherwise. This shit is mad crazy yo. That HOH was almost fucking his yo. If he ends up on the block this week, he's gonna unleash some mad Jersey anger yo. Oh Enzo, shut the fuck up. Seriously, you're useless in this game. You take the easy way out whenever possible, you turned on your alliance, and you will never, do you hear me, never win anything. There's been a lot of talk about "floaters" this season and I'm pretty sure not one person really knows the accurate definition. I think a floater is someone who bounces back and forth amongst both sides of the house and spends their week wherever the power is. Independent players like Kristen and Ragan (early on in the game) were never floaters. The king of all flotational devices is the one and only lip smacking open mouth chewing Enzo. He's either tight with the Brigade when it serves his purposes or he's planning a Final 3 deal with Brendon when he has nowhere else to turn. This chump is Floater Extraordinaire or, in Ancient Greek, Floatus Maximus.

All that floating and bitching about Britney has brought Enzo to this very moment in time. If, for some reason, Bitch Boy does not go home this week, then Enzo will packing up his fedora and hitting the high road. Britney's plan is to nominate Brendon and Enzo. If Brendon comes off the block, Enzo still has the votes to go home. There is a strong possibilty for a tie this week, and, fortunately for us, Britney will be the one to break that tie. She's sworn that neither Matt nor Ragan will be on the block so all that leaves are the big bohunky men. Thank god!

Eventually, Britney gets her HOH room and it's filled with some pretty hysterical pictures of her either drunk or angry in her pageant days. The note is from her mom and everyone one Twitter immediately wondered why it wasn't from Nick. Britney has said herself that Nick has no desire to be in the spotlight. It's clear she loves him and all the speculating that he's going to leave her is completely ridiculous. Fucking BB fans making mountains out of mole hills again. Grow up already and get your heads out of your asses. Did you ever stop to think that maybe her mom insisted on writing the letter? I know if I had a daughter in the BB24 house I'd want to be the one to write the letter. I'd be overbearing and have a giant beehive hairdo. I'd wear heels to vacuum the house and my apron would be organza with a big giant bow in the back. I have a very early 1960's view of what a mother should be like. So yeah, when I'm all growed up, that's gonna be me. I'm gonna change my name to Flo and take up clipping coupons. Awesome.

Later in the night, feedsters were treated to another episode of Just The Tip. Ragan is beyond excited and giggles like a schoolgirl throughout. Britney unleashes her venoumous tongue on Brendon and at home in our beds we all laughed and laughed. Some holier than thou tweeters think Just The Tip is just rude and awful. To them I say: get the fuck out of the kitchen if you can't take the heat. No one is making you watch. I have the good sense to walk away if Brendon talks or if Enzo eats. If you don't like something, simply turn it off.

So, were you happy with how last night played out? Will Enzo really wreak havoc on the house if he's nominated? Do you think I should try 9 virgins for next week's "Win Ragan Win" spell? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! Tomorrow's blog will probably be very late. The good news is that the coming 2 weeks should be relatively normal and uninterrrupted.

Super special shout out to one Miss Kristen Bitting - one of the nicest and classiest ladies I've chit chatted with. Thanks for everything. You rock my world. Let's all be sure to vote for Kristen for America's Favorite. Her time in the house may have been all too brief, but she has excellent taste in blogs and that should definitely be rewarded. :-)

Also, does this by any chance make you horny? Yeah, me neither.

I Know Your Secret

Little Enzo Palumbo had a lot of secrets. Did you know he wet the bed until he was 14 yrs old? Yup, all of his phobias and the constant pizza diet he lived on didn't exactly do his bladder any favors and his parents struggled year after year to try to cure their son of the problem. Papa John thought garlic was the perfect cure-all. It was actually in his search for the anti-pee pee formula that he invented his heavenly garlic dipping sauce. Little known fact. Mama Celeste, on the other hand, wasn't so sure that diet was the way to help her son. She sought out some more crude tough love type of methods to break him of his bedwetting habits. As a lover of catalogs and quirky gifts, she one day stumbled upon a metallic bed pad that would inconspiculously go underneath Enzo's sheets. To the naked eye, no one knew the pad was there, but everytime Enzo went to bed and rolled over he'd be greeted with an annoying "crinkle crinkle" sound. It was very much like that scene in Big Daddy when Adam Sandler lays the newspaper down on Frankenstein's bed. Anyhow, whenever Enzo peed, the pad would buzz and deliver an electric shock to the boy thus startling him and waking him up. It was supposed to be a tool to help him get up in time, but all it really did was scar his backside and make him fear metal objects for years to come. Why do you think Enzo won't do the laundry in the BB house? It's those giant metal washing machines! They might as well be two Great White Sharks waiting to chop his arms off. After all the tricks and weird dietary measures, it turns out the problem with Enzo's bladder lied in his testicles. You see, they never dropped. They were trapped up inside the poor child like frightened little prunes pressing against his bladder. It was a ball retrieval operation back in '89 that did the trick. It was painful and he had to lie to his middle school saying he had his tonsils out, but, in the end, it was worth it. Mama Celeste didn't have to buy anymore new sheets and Papa John could stop tinkering with his pomegranate jalapeno wings sauce. The Palumbo family was relieved and they vowed to keep Enzo's troubled childhood a secret for the rest of his life. Let's recap, shall we?

The day started out boring enough. I'm afraid we've already entered into our Monday - Thursday slump. It came a lot earlier this year, but I get more sleep and my other tv commitments are no longer neglected so I'm not really too bothered by it. I mean, let's face it, this season sucks anyways and no matter who makes it to the Final 6, Final 5, or Final 4, the final weeks of this clusterfuck are going to be a fingernail yanking snorefest. Anyhow, the day began with lots of speculating. That's all Hayden and Enzo do anymore. They guess, they formulate, they speculate, they hypothesize, and, for the most part, they're almost always wrong. You know that phrase "2 heads are better than 1"? Well, when those 2 heads belong to lazy penisless girly boys, that phrase ceases to make any sense. These two rocket scientists are absolutely convinced that this week is a double eviction. They're going over various scenarios of who they'd vote out. Hayden thinks the only people he can win against are Kathy, Brendon, and Enzo which is why he has every intention of keeping Brendon and Kathy in this game for as long as possible. He has a point, but I don't have to like it. I HATE that the Bra-gade will have a ton of votes in the jury house. I'm thinking at this point I want Britney to win and the only way I can see that happening is if her opponent is absosmurfly not a Bra-gade member.

Elsewhere in the house Ragan is still complaining about being on slop. I don't understand what the problem is with eggplant. It's good! Are they allowed to make a lemon butter sauce for the snails? Escargot isn't awful at all. Why can't these whiny HG's get all gussied up, put a Gossip Girl headband on, and do it up like the society folk do? Preparing a fancy meal out of slop, eggplant, and escargot would easily kill at least an hour or two. Why not embrace the circumstance they're in and make something fun out of it? The sleeping all day in protest is aggravating and it's surprising that it doesn't dawn on them how boring they all really are. If I was in there I'd put on a pretty dress, some strappy high heeled shoes, curl my hair, make a nice place setting, and pretend I was Blair Waldorf. Sure, that's what I do every Saturday night with my Soho Dolls CD on the stereo and Madame Alexander dolls seated at my dining room table, but I know how to throw a party goddammit! All I need is a ball of twine and a roll of duct tape. I could build a magical medieval city in my basement and entertain the entire little people community in the Metro DC area if I so desired. All it takes is a little inner MacGyver and a lot of imagination.

After lots of napping and even more bitching, we find Hayden and Matt in the cabana room shooting the shit. Hayden straight up asks Matt if he has a secret power. *bites fist* Matt says, "Why would I have it?" Hayden then wonders if maybe Brendon has it. Matt says that's a very good possibilty. His nominations were really strange this week and he could definitely have something up his sleeve. Hayden sighs, pushes his bangs against his forehead some more, and says he still thinks Rachel is Mr. Salvatore. After an uncomfortable silence, Hayden then says that he knows all 13 of the Mr. Salvatore's messages. Matt asks him what they are and Hayden runs down the entire list word for word. Matt's at once impressed yet slightly worried. "How many more people know this information", he wonders. Hayden tells him Enzo knows it and that he wouldn't be surprised if Britney knows it as well. He thinks Britney knows a hell of a lot more than she's letting on. They go over dates and trivia some more then Hayden asks Matt who he'd vote for in the final two. Matt says if he finds out that the Bra-gade was doing shady shit to it's members then there's no way in hell he's voting for a Bra-gade member to win. He'd rather vote for Brendon to win. Sure, he hates Brendon, but Brendon has at least fought to stay in the game. Hayden doesn't say anything in reply and I immediately began to wonder if Matt knows what his alliance is up to.

Hayden eventually leaves - I think he has to be the look out for another one of Lane's masturbatory sessions or something - and Ragan then joins Matt in the Cabana room. Ragan is dismayed that Matt is on the block. He thinks this might be the worst week ever in the house. With Rachel coming back, being on slop, and his best buddy being on the block, Ragan is officially depressed. He's not giving too many of his lengthy preachy speeches anymore and his entire mission for the week, besides weeping for Matt, is to sleep. I still like Ragan though. Sure, he's no fun when he's on slop, but ripping Rachel a new asshole will always and forever earn anyone a special place in my heart. Ragan begins to tell Matt that honesty and loyalty matter to him more than anything else. Keep in mind he's telling this to the guy who lied about his wife having a debilitating disease. A lot of you told me yesterday that you didn't have a problem with the lie and that's fine. I think it was Jo who said in the comments that after the lie becomes public knowledge to the HG's is when it's gonna be an uncomfortable moment of epic proportions. I wonder if Matt's wife is planning on going to the Vegas bash. How exactly does Matt see that all playing out in his head especially if he wins? I don't know, the more I think about it, the more I think it's a very poorly thought out strategy.

OK so let's just fast forward ahead to what I know everyone is waiting for. Ragan finally got a conrete mission that didn't take the form of a video message! He was instructed to leave a note under Enzo's pillow that said "I know your secret". Clearly, it wasn't a mission he was actually thrilled with because he hemmed and hawed about it and had to make several attempts before actually placing the note in it's proper place. He went into the room, put the note under the pillow, whipped it out again, said to himself, "I can't do this.", and walked into another room. Personally, I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like he's close to Enzo or anything. It doesn't make Matt look bad in any way. Embrace your mission! Wear a black outfit, put some pantyhose on your head, and tiptoe all melodramatic like into the Taj room like a burglar would in those olden timey silent films or at least dress up like the Hamburgler - something, anything! If you gave me that mission, I'd be giggling the whole time and probably leave a breadcrumb trail from the scene of the crime all the way up to the HOH room. I mean, why the hell not, right? Eventually, Ragan gets the damn note under the pillow. Feedsters then grabbed a diet coke and a sandwich, pulled their chairs closer to their laptops, and waited... and waited... and waited... and waited.

Your lazy ass blogger Lala passed out around midnight so I had no idea what was going on. I woke up at 4:30 to wrestle with a pillow that was giving me attitude and luckily I decided to check my twitter. It was all a buzz with the night owls waiting impatiently for Enzo to discover the note. I wasn't about to get up and turn on my computer so I followed the twitter drama for a little while and then promptly passed out again. Thanks to the nifty flashback option I was able to watch the drama unfold and take pictures of it all. Please to enjoy:

OK so Enzo finally goes to bed. He goes into the room and discovers the note under his pillow. He whips it out and says "What the fuck is this?" He reads it and then starts to look under everyone elses pillows. As soon as he discovers that he was the only one with a note he says, "Ohhh shit. Oh ok." He stares at the message a little longer and I can just imagine what's going on in his head... What the hell is this yo? Why they pin this shit on the Meow Meow? No way they know I wet the bed, right? I'm gonna bash Mama and Papa's skulls if they told anybody that shit. Yo... Meow Meow... yo.

Kathy, who'd been asleep in the bed across from Enzo, begins to stir and asks what's going on. Enzo waves his arms all dramatically, shoves the note in her face, and laughs. He tells her how he just found it under his pillow and then he leaves the room to go show it to Hayden.

He finds Hayden getting ready to go to bed and begins to do his big arm waving song and dance again. "Yo, look what I found yo. It says I have a seeeeecret yo. Ya think BB did this during the lockdown? What's my secret yo? Meow Meow don't have no secrets... tinkle. No secrets at all. I think it's Kathy yo!" Then Lane joins in and they begin to discuss what to do next. They toss around maybe putting the note in someone's key slot and trying to pin it on someone else. They wonder when it could have been done and if maybe it's BB fucking with them because they had an outdoor lockdown earlier that appeared to be for no reason at all. They analyze the handwriting and collectively decide that a woman must have written the note. I have no idea why the hell they decided that. It's not like there was a heart dotting the letter 'i' or big ole teenage bubbly letters. It's generic capital letters... nothing more. In the end they decide to back into Enzo's room and retrace the culprit's steps.

Inside the room Kathy is waiting for them and she begins to ask about the note. Enzo keeps saying, "What's my seeeecret? What's my seeeeecret yo?" He says he doesn't think it's someone in the house. Ok, well then, who is it Detective Palumbo? Is it an intruder, an alien, a fan? Kathy tells him of course it's someone in the house and then she says she wishes she had her fingerprinting kit. I wish she had it too! I'm dying to see Kathy with a badge on her chest and a gun strapped to her waist. She'd put on some old lady glasses, dust some powder on the paper (of course after Enzo, Lane, and Hayden have been manhandling it for the past 10 minutes) and then she'd put the paper in the fish tank with some crazy glue just like Eddie Murphy did in Beverly Hills Cop. They'd all chew gum and wait for the fingerprints to appear. Awesome!

Enzo then says that at least everyone knows he's not the Saboteur now. Kathy says, "That's what Annie said." Silence. Then Enzo says, "No, why would I sabotage myself yo?!" Lane suggests they check the Pool Tournament trophy bowl to compare handwriting. All the HG's wrote their names in the bowl with nail polish. The only problem is the bowl is in the HOH. They make a mental note to check it tomorrow and then they go out to tell everyone else what happened.

They wake up the people in the Have-Not room and share the note. They're all groggy, but they look at it and laugh. Enzo again says he's happy it happened because now everyone knows he's not the Sab. Matt tells him to eBay the note. Enzo says that it can't be Brendon because Brendon was never around yesterday. Matt, annoyed that Enzo always jump to defend Bitch Boy, says it could have been anyone. Brendon was the last one outside during the Lockdown which means he had time alone in the house. Enzo asks, "So then there's a Sab in the house? That was this means?" DUH!!! You fucking moron! Britney begins to suspect it's Brendon. Enzo says he thinks it's Kathy. Ragan says they should figure out who was in the house by themselves. The group begins to wonder if maybe BB wrote the note and simply gave it to the Saboteur in the DR. Then they begin to go over who was in the DR yesterday. Ragan quickly says they all were in the DR because they did goodbye messages yesterday. Someone, I forgot who, keeps saying that Kathy kept getting called to the DR. They all decide to move to the Cabana Room to discuss the matter further.

Brendon and Kathy are still sleeping and Enzo is hard at work pinning the note on Kathy. He says that the light in the room was on the whole time and that Kathy was sleeping in the light. Britney says that Kathy never seems to pay too much attention to the Sab messages. Enzo begins to wonder why she was dusting the house today. He also doesn't know why Kathy made his bed. Someone else says Kathy's made their bed before. Enzo ignores it and says he's being shunned yo... shunned. Enzo is convinced that America would vote to make Kathy the Sab because she's a doh-d0h. Matt disagrees and says she's the last person America would vote to give a power to. It seemed as if Matt wasn't falling for the Kathy blame game until someone brings up the pretzel story. Remember it was Kathy who told Hayden about Rachel writing the note to Brendon in pretzels. Everyone says, "Ohhhh" and boom bam done! Kathy is now the Saboteur. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. If Matt puts Kathy on the block tomorrow, that's gonna suck so much ass.

Matt then asks the group how they should play this now. Enzo says they shouldn't say anything, they should just watch her. Someone remembers that Rachel gave Kathy the key to the HOH and that only further makes everyone believe she's the Sab. This fucks up everything in all sorts of ways. I'm not happy! So, what do you think Matt will do with the DPOV? Do you think someone will tip Kathy off? Will the Sab leave another message today? Would a pomegranate jalapeno chicken wing sauce have been successful? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

I just received a phone call from a friend wanting me to babysit her brats tomorrow morning. Since this could be my only chance at motherhood (since Rachel shriveled up my ovaries), I'm gonna do it which means no blog tomorrow. It's ok though, tomorrow night is the night that'll be a doozy and I'll definitely be here to document it all so count on a big blog Friday morning.