Friday, August 20, 2010

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.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

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.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

I Count Zero Penises

Little Enzo Palumbo had been a scaredy cat all his life. Dogs, ceiling fans, garbage disposals, doorbells... anything and everything that produced any sort of noise or movement could reduce the tiny boy to tears. His Mama, Celeste, even had to cancel their telephone service because the ringing of the phone would send baby Enzo into a tantrum where tears would last for hours and feces would be spread on the wall. It began to become a real problem for the Palumbo family. The only toy that didn't scare the small child was a yo-yo. He looooved to watch the disk roll back and forth along the string. He'd make his Papa, John, play with the yo-yo for hours every night delighting him with tricks like Walk The Dog, Rock The Baby, Ferris Wheel, Flying Saucer, and, his favorite, Skin The Cat. Papa John became quite the yo-yo master and even began to travel the country displaying his yo-yo feats of triumph much like Forrest Gump did playing ping pong. Enzo loved the yo-yo so much that he began to call random objects and people "Yo". He was still young and had a bit of a stuttering problem so the full "Yo-Yo" wasn't possible. For example he'd say, "Yo Mama, putta 'nother pizzapie yo in th-th-th-the oven yo." People thought it was charming so no one ever bothered to correct him. In addition to the "yo" affectation and the fear of, well, life, Enzo had a growing love for kittens. Cats were, for the most part, quiet, they did their own thing, and Enzo actually found the tiny "meow meows" comforting. In fact, Mama Celeste put a whole litter of kittens in Enzo's room to help him sleep at night. Lullabies and mobiles scared the child, but the gentle "meow meows" put him to sleep faster than a Nyquil laced bottle. Of course, sleeping with "meow meows" constantly seeping into your subconscious can have some unfortunate side effects. As Enzo entered adolescence he was convinced he was a cat and that everything else around him was a yo-yo. He started to say things like "Yo the Meow Meow has some homework to do tonight Mama yo." His mother worried how society would accept this cat-child, but Papa John assured her that being from Jersey, it's ok for a young man to talk like that. They decided together to let their boy talk like he liked. I mean, it's not like Mama Celeste and Papa J0hn were Oxford scholars or anything. Besides, this was Jersey! A new idiot is born in Jersey everyday - just look at Teresa Giudice! Let's recap, shall we?

It was the day of the big POV Ceremony. Ragan had won the veto and was definitely going to take himself off the block, but the big question was: Who would Bitch Boy put up in his place? Would it be Princess Britney with the biting wit and fierce competitive nature or would it be teeny tiny Matt with his hand down his pants? Drum roll please... Brendon has decided to put MATT on the block. Well, happy day! Matt has that Diamond Power Of Veto and, let's be honest, we all want it to be used. This brings me to this next little unbelievable nugget. Immediately after the POV Ceremony, Matt goes to the Bra-gade and tells them that it's not over until he's walking out that door. He thinks there might be a Mystery Power out there that could save him. In past seasons, Mystery Powers always happened around this time so it's likely that there could be another one this season. Wha... wha... what?!? Are you shitting me? The self proclaimed diabolical genius sure is a fucking idiot. Why, for crying out loud, WHY would you ever say such a thing? He should shut his trap, act pissed off, and begin to focus on who he's going to put on the block in his place. You do not, under any circumstances, hint to others that you have the Diamond Power Of Veto in your pants. Why would you ever risk losing it? You're a moron Matt... a moron!

Look, I'm still pissed at Matt for his Week 3 HOH debacle. I firmly believe had he done what he should have done and put up Brenchel, that this would be a VERY different house with people actually, you know, wanting to win competitions. Kristen, for one, would still be there and maybe even Andrew. Andrew is a crying little bitch I wouldn't let within 10 yards of my feet, but at least he wanted to win comps. I'm getting so sick of everyone playing this game like a pussy. I wish there was someway it could be illegal to throw comps. I was never a fan of Dr. Will so I have no problem blaming him for everything that's wrong with this season. I'm also gonna blame Tila Tequila... for no particular reason. I just hate her. This is my blog. So there!

OK so Matt is now up on the block and Ragan is devastated. He calls Brendon a liar and a coward and he has no problem telling everyone in the house how Brendon tried to make deals with both him and Matt. Ragan thinks it's incredibly unfair that Matt is being punished for what the rest of the house wanted yet was essentially scared to do. Again, had Matt done it Week 3 we might not be in the situation we're now in. I think Matt is very well aware of his past mistakes. Yes, he has the DPOV, but unless he wins HOH next week, he could be in big trouble. This house doesn't care for twists and surprises and I think going after Matt will be their easiest "no blood on their hands" choice.

I think I've also had a change of heart about Matt's lie about his wife. There was a conversation yesterday between Ragan and Kathy that really struck a chord with me. Ragan was telling Kathy how he can't believe that Brendon would risk $500,000 for a vile disguting person he's only known for a month. He went on to say that Matt is playing this game for his sick wife while Brendon is playing it for a skeezy skank. It was here that I realized that people might really vote for Matt to win thinking his prize money will be used to help a very sick woman. They'll be voting for a lie. I'd be furious if I chose to give my money to a woman with a rare disease and then found out it really went to feed a tiny man's ago. That's like donating money to Children's Hospital and discovering it's going to some asshole in a computer lab in Nigeria. I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. I know I said before that I didn't have a problem with it, but the more I think about it, the more I think it's all kind of gross. I was reading a story online a few weeks about this woman who faked cancer and ended up scamming people out of tens of thousands of dollars via Facebook and other online websites dedicated to her illness. I think musicians even threw a benefit concert to help her raise money. It's nauseating to think people like that really exist in the world and I now think that Matt is perhaps one of those people. I understand you have to lie and backstab to win Big Brother and, believe me, I'm a big fan of evil game playing. I just think this diseased wife thing is a little beyond the realm of what's acceptable.

Back in the house, Enzo and Hayden have planned that they'll get rid of Matt this week. It seems like they're pretty cozy in their new alliance with Brendon and taking him to the end might not be a bad idea after all. It's not like he'll win the $500,000 in a Final 2 vote or anything. They also don't want to get blood on their hands by having to evict him next week. They decide they'll just go ahead and throw next week's HOH... again! How do these guys exist in everyday life?! How do they make love to a woman? Clearly, they have no penises. Do they see their gas tanks nearing empty and decide it's a waste of time and effort to refill it? Do they neglect to put money in their bank accounts because they just can't be bothered? I'll bet their houses are disgusting too. There's probably food caked onto the stove and flies buzzing around the trash can because these two numbskulls don't have the brains or balls to take care of business themselves. I'm pretty sure Enzo gets around town being pushed in his daughter's stroller. His wife probably burps him after every meal and rubs Desitin on his ass. I just don't understand how people can behave like these two idiots are and get anything done. You know that attitude of "taking the easy the way out" isn't a new thing with these guys. I wouldn't be surprised if Hayden's mom puts a bowl on his head when she gives him haircuts. She's one of those creepy Pillars Of The Earth moms anyways. It's disgusting and I'm sick of it!

In other news Hayden told Matt that Kathy told him that Rachel left a message for Brendon in pretzels. Apparently, she spelled out "I heart you" and the name "Matt". I have no idea if this is true or not, but it wouldn't surprise me in the least if Brendon is still letting that harlot call the shots. Brendon's already mailed his balls to Rome and applied to be the world's next greatest eunuch singer. He'll be like Farinelli only crappy. Farinelli was kind of sexy for a eunuch. All the girls were mad about him. Having a lack of testosterone gave his skin a softness unlike other men. His arms were long and delicate and his chest was smooth and flat. Since Brendon wasn't castrated as a child like Farinelli was, I doubt he'll take Italia by storm. He'll probably just cry a lot and get pimples from the stress of having to perform all the time.

Alright, what the hell am I talking about? Even I don't know anymore. There's one more conversation I need to address before I finish this. After Matt told the boys he wouldn't campaign against Lane or say anything bad about him, Enzo and Hayden began to feel a little guilty. So much so that they decided to tell Matt on Thursday that they're voting to evict him. Now, will this be enough to sway Matt to put Enzo on the block or will Matt still be loyal to the Bra-gade? Will Matt discover in the next few days that his alliance has turned on him? Will Brendon cry and tinkle himself on Thursday? Are the pizzas in Enzo's household out of this world? Comment it out bitches and have a great day! Sorry so short, I've got to drive quite a ways and try to resolve this Ning catastrophe. Sucks ass.

Monday, August 16, 2010

The Day The Merriment Died

I gotta be honest, I didn't watch the Feeds at all yesterday. You see, it rained... even after I told you bitches not to do any rain dances! I had to forego the water park with Boompie (my niece) and instead we went to a bookstore where she demanded I read her book after book after book. I read Dora, Cinderella, Snow White, Max & Ruby, The Little Mermaid, and Berenstein Bears. I was doing all the voices and your girl Lala drew herself quite a crowd. Some 2 yr old with jingly ankle bracelets on her bare feet kept running around me and distracting my flow though. I tried to ignore her, but it was at a crucial part in the story when Ruby lost her doll so I had to kick that annoying jingly child in the face. It was only a small kick I swear. Her hipster mom with the vegan footwear didn't even notice. I think she was busy snacking on the granola in her purse or something. So yeah, I have no idea what's going on in the house. Since I know how you bitches get when I don't post I'm gonna go ahead and give you a fictitious account of the house yesterday. There might be some truths sprinkled in it here and there or I might be completely lying out of my ass. Who knows?! I'll leave it up to you to decide. Let's recap, shall we?

Sunday morning. Studio City, California. A creature with red, maroon, and pink hair begins to stir. She scratches her chin and sighs. The stubble is growing back thicker and faster every day now. Ever since she left her desert oasis, her follicles have been rejecting the California air with thick coarse black hairs begging to reach the surface. She grimaces her face and begrudgingly greets the day. Her visit back to the BB house didn't really go exactly as planned. Sure, she wanted to fuck up Ragan and Britney's game, but she also thought she could grind her skin with her beefy bohunk boyfriend's skin and produce something, not only smelly, but *clears throat* beautiful. The home audience must be enraptured by their love so she'll go through the motions of a phony romance with that penniless eunuch long enough to get her on The Amazing Race. After that, it's good riddance Brendon Villegas and hello Criss Angel! She swung her legs over the edge of the HOH bed and said, "I'm cut out for more than this dump!" Then, she scratched her vaj and headed to the can to take another enormous shit. Klass with a capital K!

Downstairs, Ragan stretched languidly on his patio furniture bed. He doesn't remember ever having a better night's sleep. He had been a little unsure of the events the day before. I mean, what if America actually liked Rachel? That enormous fight would be akin to a death sentence if that were true. For some reason though, deep down in his gut he just knew that the opposite was true. You see, after the fight his hunger went away, he stopped having those wretched gas pains, and, somehow, he felt as if the universe had actually patted him on the back or something. He couldn't really explain it, but everything just felt right. Sometimes when our souls find the path they're meant to be on you just know it and that's exactly how Ragan felt. As he got out of bed he looked down to notice a giant red R on his chest. He didn't know why or how it got there, but he was wearing a bright yellow superhero's outfit complete with a red cape and everything! He stood up and the cape began to billow in the nonexistent breeze all by itself. The knee high soft leather boots not only made his calves look fabulous, but it gave him a sort of a strut he hadn't exhibited before. "This is going to be a good day", he thought to himself then he flew through the halls of the BB house one hand on his hip and one hand purposefully above his head.

Britney heard a strange whizzing going around the house so she, too, decided to awake. She crinkled her forehead as the previous day's events all came back to her. The night before that spawn of Satan had called her "Princess Britney" like that was supposed to be a bad thing. A name like "Princess Britney" isn't an insult - it's a compliment of the highest order! For crying out loud, as I read book after book to Boompie yesterday each story was about a princess living in a castle and having a life of cake and fabulosity. Ariel had a whole lagoon just for her sea creature friends, Cinderella had a giant marble staircase a chandelier that may or may not have been designed by Jonathan Adler, and even that Belle chick had some fancy Wedgewood china that was always talking to her. If Rachel thinks "princess" is an insult, then she's dumber than I had ever thought. As a matter of fact, in a show of solidarity for Britney, let's all refer to ourselves as Princesses today. I'll be Princess Lala and you guys can be Princess Sausage Fingers, Princess Alli, Princess Creme, Princess Eileen, Princess Cheap Robot, and Princess Deion. (Bitches who comment a lot get top priority mentions) Rachel can be the mean ugly stepsister Drizella or maybe Gargamel from the Smurfs - whichever one is ugliest that's who'll Rachel will be.

The day began lazily enough and all the HG's quietly went about preparing their slop and eggplant. Rachel made herself a vat of olive oil and the house enjoyed their breakfasts in silence. One HG kept shifting uncomfortably in his chair though. It was the Plugged One himself, Enzo. He was getting antsy because he knew Rachel was gonna leave soon and he had to get in a few more hours of asskissing. As soon as the meal was over he skipped upstairs after Rachel and begin another long winded diatribe on something or other. "So yo, you and Brendon are like wicked mad competitors yo. I gotta start winning me some HOH's." Rachel replied, "Everyone out there loves me! I'm like seriously literally highly regarded." Enzo said, "Yeah man, that's cool yo. I wonder if they love the Meow Meow. I really gotta start winning me some HOH's yo." Rachel responds, "I only want real competitors to win. That Britney is such a bitch!" Enzo retorts, "Yeah man, I don't trust her worth nuthin'! I really gotta start winning some HOH's yo." This back and forth went on and on for hours. The more Rachel spoke, the more she looked like a pig and a giant hypocrite. Funny how it never dawned on her that Britney is one of the fiercest competitors in the game. Does Rachel not know that Britney was won MORE than she has? Very interesting how that little fact escapes the beak nosed wench.

Elsewhere in the house Matt sat silent with his hand down his pants. He's almost found gold! Just a little more digging and he'll get there. What no one knows is that centuries ago, the Hoffman family were early prospectors and mined for gold in the Old West. The innate urge to dig for things was born into every Hoffman man henceforth and, oddly enough, since he was an even tinier pipsqueak, little Matty Hoffman always knew his gold was hidden somewhere in his pants. He's not exactly sure what he's gonna do when he finds it though. Maybe he'll make himself a trophy that says "Diabolical Genius" on it. He figures if he says that phrase enough, maybe one day it'll become a reality.

The noon hour chimed and it was time... time for Parrot Girl to take her leave of the Big Brother house. She stood by herself in the middle of kitchen and shouted, "Later bitches! Try not to miss me too much!" to no one in particular. You see, at that precise moment, everyone suddenly had some urgent business to attend to. Hayden had to comb his bangs, Kathy needed a smoke, Ragan was shining his new superhero boots, and Lane was busy floating in the pool. Rachel was leaving and not one person gave a shit. She blew kisses to the walls, the appliances, and her own black & white photo. A few pony hairs from her weave fell out and she and her giant vagina walked out the door. Only an odd pungent odor lingered behind.

The house breathed a sigh of relief and Ragan delighted everyone in the BY with his new fantastic powers. Not only could now turn water into marshmallows, but every time he said "Die you vile disgusting pimply parrot!" the clouds above began to rain gumdrops and lollidrops. It was like Candyland in the backyard and all the HG's were thrilled. Britney and Lane took turns leaping into the marshmallow pool, Kathy started smoking candy cigarettes, and Hayden laughed his goofy laugh watching Ragan say "Die you vile disgusting pimply parrot!" over and over again. It was Willy Wonka, it was Babes In Toyland, it was Elf, and it was the heaven scene in Grease 2. Everyone was happy and there was peace in the Middle East.

Then... *sigh* he returned. Brendon knocked on the door and no one answered. They were too busy frolicking and laughing out in the backyard. BB actually had to come down off his throne and unlock the door for Brendon. It was soooo humiliating. Once inside the house Brendon went room to room looking for any sign of his harlot. All he saw weren't faint traces of ProActiv and dried up mascara tainted tears. Eventually, he made his way out back. You know how we now refer to the day that Buddy Holly and La Bamba went down in that plane as "The Day The Music Died"? Well, yesterday was "The Day The Merriment Died". As soon as Brendon opened the sliding glass door, the marshmallow pool disappeared, Britney and Lane sunk to the bottom, Matt found a lump a coal in his pants, Ragan found himself wearing a tattered tank top and gym shorts again, and Hayden and Enzo found the toffee they were chewing on turned into boogers... gross! Brendon is a fun sucker. His presence kills fairies, garden gnomes, and chia pets. Fairy tales turn into horror stories and wild ponies one by one hurl themselves off of rocky cliffs.

So yeah, that's what went on in the BB house yesterday. Who do you guys think Brendon will put on the block today? If it's not Matt, do you think the DPOV will get used? Will Enzo ever win HOH? How awesome is it that Kristen has read this blog? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Return Of The Pimply Red Parrot

It was eerily quiet outside. The trees didn't sway, the leaves didn't rustle, the clouds hung still, and the sun, high and relentless, had nowhere to hide. Playful woodland creatures stopped their fruit and nut gathering seemingly frozen in time. The buzz of the insects suddenly fell silent as the air took on a heavy and damp quality that made breathing difficult and movement uncomfortable. It was the calm before the storm, an uncertain storm. The world had paused and the promise of what was to come hung limply in the air. After what seemed liked an eternity of the universe holding it's breath, time finally exhaled and the cosmos barrelled on. Clouds tumbled in, the squirrels and chipmunks scurried off to hide in a familiar tree trunk, a gentle breeze became a violent gust, and the sun was no more. It was like that scene in Flash Gordon when the sky turns red. It was Helen Hunt in Twister sniffing out a tornado. It was a warning, a sign, a message, a hint, a siren... It was Revelations. It was Judgment Day. It was the Day After Tomorrow, Terminator, The Matrix, and Amityville. Freddie, Jason, Michael, and Chuckie cowered under their covers. Something was amiss. Something horrible, oh god it's so horrible, was about to happen. Let's recap, shall we?

"Hey bitches, I'm baaaaaack!" 4 words. 4 awful piercing shrieking blood curdling words. My uterus shriveled up like a prune, my nipples dove inside my chest, and I knew, I just knew, I would never ever ever give birth and know the joys of motherhood. She, that thing, was back. I really don't know why God hates me so. Is it because I had the church giggles that one time in high school at the senior retreat and I snorted during the priest's homily? Or is it because I once toilet papered a convent and put a memorial bench on top of the church's van? I don't know what I've done that was so horrible, but some-one or some-thing is clearly out to make my life a living hell. Rachel is back in the house and she's out to destroy everyone in her path.

It appears as if Brendon opened Pandora's Box releasing an evil so vile and wretched that only Valtrex and holy water can keep it at bay. He must have been promised his harlot's return and, without pausing to consider the ramifications, he hastily opened Pandora's Box and then promptly disappeared down the rabbit hole. You see, Rachel did come back, but Brendon also disappeared. It reminded me of that episode of Charmed where the guy was an owl by day while his lover was a wolf by night. Their human forms were never to meet and their love was viciously denied. Awesome.

So, Hyena Fuckface is back and she's got a score to settle. She wastes no time and begins calling out every HG individually asking them why they voted her out. The houseguests were stunned and horrified that all they could do was stand awkwardly and look uncomfortable... all except one. Enzo, the hair-plugged idiot named after a pussy, leapt up inside Rachel's asshole and stayed nestled there all night long. Yup, the guy who's all talk and no action wasted no time kissing the Hyena's ass and getting on her good side. It was gross and phony and I'm officially done with him. No one in their right mind would fund an Enzo bar tour or buy lame ass Meow Meow t-shirts. I don't know what planet he's living on, but taking a year off to be a "celebrity" probably won't even keep his baby daughter in diapers. Worse still, I can absolutely see him getting to the Final 3 by doing nothing but eating like an open mouthed swine.

With Enzo safely tucked up next to her sphinctor, Hyena Fuckface begins to hurl insults at Ragan. She calls him a bitch, tells him he's not a man, and says she's going to make his next 24 hrs a nightmare. Ragan asks her why she's not using this time wisely and showing kindness to the people she treated so horribly. Rachel's head spins around and she shrieks "You're a bitch!" She then turns her ire to Britney and demands to know why she left such an evil goodbye message. Seriously? The queen of "you tried to get in between me and my man!" goodbye messages has the nerve to question someone else on their messages? Oh give me a fucking break.

Then someone, Matt maybe, mentions that Bitch Boy has pretty much disappeared. Rachel heads up to the HOH and begins to bang on Pandora's Box whining, "Brendoooooooonnnn can you hear me? Brennnndooooonnnn where are you?" Mr. O'Shaugnessy wisely packed my opium pipe and then scurried away to hide in his cubbyhole under the stairs. He knew it was only a matter of time before I started taking my growing wrath out on innocent living things. The HG's could really kind of care less that Brendon is gone. All they want to know about is what the Jury House is like. They bombard Rachel with questions about internet, phone calls, and TV. She tells them every room has a TV and they can order movies and tv shows, but there are no phones and no internet. She's not allowed to tell them where the house is, but she says it's amazing and tranquil.

Inexplicably, Rachel begins to hold meetings up in the HOH room. She has no power, she's been evicted from the game, she's one measly Jury vote who has no intention of voting strategic (she'll vote 100% personal, count on it) so I can't help but be completely flummoxed as to why HG after HG marches up to kiss her ass and defend themselves to her. It's not even like she's listening to them anyways. All she keeps saying is how she's the first person ever in BB history to be brought back. Wrong! She also says she's the most highly regarded playing ever and that the blogs love her. Double wrong! I waited for her to say she was going to be President of the United States and Space Mountain and that now she can grow wings and fly. Maybe she invented air and the steam engine. I mean, that's just about as true as the BB shit she's spewing. She sits there with her mismatched hair and her fake eyelashes and spouts lie after lie after lie. Meanwhile, I'm sitting at home wondering why, dear god why, no one calls her out on it.

Towards the end of her meetings where Hayden, Enzo, and Kathy kissed her ass shamelessly, Rachel decides she wants to make cookies and rub it in Ragan and Britney's faces. She descends the staircase and says, "Britney, do you want some cookies?" Britney replies, "I can't. I'm a Have-Not." Rachel says, "Awww really? That's too bad." Britney rolls her eyes and begins to walk away when Rachel announces, "I think I'm going to ask Ragan if he wants cookies." The big steaming cauldron of bullshit she's stirring begins to bubble over and we all knew... this was about to get awesome.

Rachel opens the sliding door and goes outside. She's clutching her packet of refrigerated cookie dough and begins to march over to Ragan. She says, "Ragan, I'm making some big soft chewy moist cookies. Do you want some?" Ragan sighs and tells her she repulses him. Rachel says, " Really? Really?" He replies, "Take your homophobic innuendo and get the fuck out of my face" *bites fist and pours myelf a daquiri* She stands there, cackles, and again offers Ragan a cookie. He tells her she to return her clothing to Forever 21 to try to get her money back and thus began the most beautiful 10 minutes of the entire BB12 season. Please to enjoy:

It was Xanadu, it was roller skates, it was lollipops and mint chocolate chip ice cream and ecstacy and soft fluffy pillows. The clouds parted, a rainbow shot across the sky, and the angels danced a funky tarantella. Ragan unleashed a giant can of whoop ass on one Miss Rachel Reilly calling her a red parrot with nastily dyed hair and mismatched pink extensions. He called her vile and disgusting and phony. The only real thing about her were the pimples on her chin. The hours of footage of her humilating herself with her wretched behavior would give him joy for years to come. He can't wait for her to get out of the Jury House and finally see what a truly despicable person she is. He was relentless, mean, and honest. Ragan Fox is a rock star, my friends. In the matter of ten tiny minutes he summed up, eloquently I might add, what the nation has thought of Rachel for the past 5 weeks. He kicked her pedestal out from under her and smashed it to bits with his rhetoric and wit. At home, I beamed. I rubbed glitter all over my face and cried, "Yes! Yes!" After all was said and done, I collapsed on my chaise lounge, smoked a cigarette, and wondered if we could do it all over again.

In response, the best Rachel could do was hurl homophobic remarks, say "Really? Really?", and bring up his dead father. She looked like an idiot and the world rejoiced. Hostages were returned, hurricanes decided to turn back, and Kim Jong Il got a violent case of diarrhea. Ragan was my spokesperson, our spokesperson. He delivered a message so powerful and true that even the Dalai Lama had to nod and give props. *flashes Lama gang sign* While the insults and name calling were delicious and chocolatey, it was Ragan's final monologue calling out Rachel's deplorable behavior and attitude that really sparkled like a 16 carat Tiffany diamond. He was concise, brutal, yet fair. When he ended and finally went inside, all Rachel could do was stand there... in silence. Her nostrils flared, the cookie dough between her fingers was squished beyond recognition, and her pink and red hair hung limp and humiliated. The HG's outside at the time shifted uncomfortably and waited for her to turn green and rip her dress off or something. In the end, there was no Bruce Banner and no Lou Ferrigno. Instead, Rachel stomped into the Diary Room and probably cried her eyes out.

After all was said and done, the HG's surrounded Ragan and praised him. They offered him support and told him he did nothing wrong at all. She'd started the whole thing with her immature cookie taunts and the house was generally pleased that he put her in her place. They hoped she'd be so upset that she'd simply leave and never return. I knew she'd be back though. Normal human behavior is not one of Rachel Reilly's traits so of course she'd be back. She'd be back and she'd apologize... probably because the Diary Room told her that the entire gay community would want her head on a spike. The last thing CBS needs is GLAAD on their ass. According to Miss Rachel Reilly, there are good gays and bad gays in the world. The bad gays suck at life and the good are absolutely fabulous: Philosophy 101 according to Rachel Reilly.

In the end, the homophobic pig apologized and I still hold fast to my theory that CBS had something to do with it. When I stop and think about it, I'm glad she came back into the house. There was some unfinished business that needed tending to and Ragan Fox was the man to take care of it. Ragan's bugged me in the past for wanting goodness and fairness and kumbaya, but yesterday he brought the house down. He's seen a million faces and he's rocked them all. So, way to go Ragan and thank you! A thousand million hundred times I thank you. If I could send you a fruit basket I would.

So, what did you guys think about the big fight? Are you Team Ragan or Team Rachel? How different would it have been if Brendon was there? Does Enzo serve any purpose whatsoever? Comment it out bitches and have a great day!