I canít believe I got to use ďShiznitĒ. HA! Iíve always wanted to, but it never seemed appropriate. At the reward challenge, I got to take Sarge outóNo, Chrissy, not out, but out!, as in down.. no not down like thatÖ never mind, you know what I mean. Leanne and Julie brought all the girls back some Chicken Wings, I sucked all the meat right off mine, then grinned as the guys drooled over bones. Yeah, guys are always happy to have a bone
rs.All the guys went quick in the IC. I won, but still donít know what the pig had to do with anything. Oh well. Sarge is goneÖ one more man off the island. I will Survive!
Okay, I think it is time to call a timeout. This class is a very unruly bunch, and their behavior is not at all acceptable. The boot of Sarge means that I am pretty much on my own. I think Chris is starting to cut his own deals. That is fine, now the power of the Stone will be focused on my advancement in the game. I was really happy that Julie and that other woman, what was her name again? I canít remember. She hardly talks. Anyway, they brought us back some chicken bones, which I suppose was a kind gesture. Of course, if I find out later that the women all ate the chicken and then gave us bones, well I will whack Ďem all with my artificial leg at the reunion show. Heck, Sarge will probably get Ďem first.
I'm not really sure why I put so much confidence in Twila and Julie. Nothing good has ever come from trusting a woman. At least now, I know where the lines have been drawn. It's the men vs the estrogen snakes. That's all right. We might not have the numbers, but the game is not over yet. I can exploit the rift that I see between that crazy old Scout and bug-eyed Eliza or even turn all of them on that she-man Ami. They are not too bright. Can you believe half of them thought lava was a soul-cleansing drink? Excuse me while I laugh my butt off.
For now, I must please them in order to keep them happy. This is why I'm voting for you, Sarge. It's nothing against you. I just gotta do what I gotta do to survive, but I will avenge you my brother! Once I'm in with the women, I will burn every one of them. Hmmm....Serving them a cup of lava should do the trick. Victory will be ours or my name isn't Master Strategist C.!!!!!!! **Insert evil laugh here** I would do it myself, but I think I've got one of those damn chicken bones lodged in my throat.
I am so cute. Hey, it's not bragging if it's true, and I'm telling you - it's a fact. I've got a totally fit, rocking body. I've got my doe-like big eyes and supple soft skin. When I wear my tribal marking - you know, those tiny pink dots around my eye sockets - I look like some fierce but cute anime character, donchya think? Eliwingemon: half butterfly, half woman...and 100% kick-ass. And in this bug-infested hell I'm clearly the hottest chick in the tribe. So why does everyone hate me?
The reward challenge was very revealing. Oh, yes, I could see everyone snickering at the sight of my skull being torched. I expect it from the men, but how interesting to see what my fellow alliance members really think of me. Pissants. Could they be more obvious? Twila and Scout - two old hags that hate me because I'm young, I'm cute, and I am physically capable of running on sand. And now I don't think I can even trust Julie, because Leann sure seemed to be chummy with her, picking her to ride in the helicopter like that.
I really thought I had lived down the whole Dolly incident. (Dolly...hmm, I could've used her help with the pig. Oh, well.) So let's see...I've been body painting up a storm for these girls. I keep the conversation flowing in camp. Without me they'd all be sitting around the fire picking their teeth, bored out of their skulls. You know what really makes me mad? When I think of all the times I took the time to explain the hard stuff to Julie or Scout, and yet, I'm treated like a piece of fluff. When Twila was busy doing all that male bonding at Lopevi, I was Scout's "Little One." The name is E-L-I-Z-A, Scout. And that's the last time you'll have to think about how it's spelled, because if you write it down at TC, I'll grab all your ugly hippie jewelry and throw it in the fire. Beware the wrath of Eliwingemon!
Yiiipppyyy!! Leann l-u-v's me. When she picked me to share the chopper trip to the dormant, apparently-non-swallowable-lava producer, it was all I could do to stop myself from starting a tickle fight. But no matter, we held hands anyway in the kinda scary chopper ride. Eeeee!! *girlie squeal* And then we landed on the lushest of lushiest mountains: abundant in tall grass, girlie talk, and poultry and booze. As we tore into our wings, (sorely missing bleu cheese *mutter*), we bonded over more than mutual hand-holding. Oh yes....we bonded over our intense dislike of Eliza. I knew why that girl popped into my head so quick-like, too. I was holding a chicken bone in my right hand and I just looked at it and thought, "Eliza." I told Leeann I was totally down with kicking Eliza out before Chris, and that I'd pretty much be her puppet in this game. Our bond solidified, I decided to jam extra wings up my pants, (mmmm...wingy), and take them to our beach sisters. When we arrived, the men were off at sea, and us girls decided that it would be neat-o to just gulp 'em down, caveman style, and leave them with the bones.
After that I became a puzzle wizard at the Immunity challenge. A magical, tanned, puzzle wizard. The laydays smoked the men's hineys in a memory game having to do with pretty colors and shapes. No, I didn't win, but then I wasn't in danger anyway. Leeann, my final-four sistah, is in good with the others, and I knew that dancing with her all afternoon would solidify my standing in the tribe. My only regret with liking Leeann more than Eliza is that Eliza's more willowy, and more built for a game of airplane. I was just achin' to grab hold of Leeann's right arm and right leg, and spin her off the ground. But no, we just waltzed.
Perhaps that's why she called me out at tribal council. Dangit. After Twila and Sarge talked about my non-alliance with the final four, Leeann underscored that fact by tossing in her two cents. It was all I could do to bite my lip and shut up. But thank goodness we all ended up gunning for Sarge. Our sisterhood is still strong. My only beef is with Jeff now, for calling me out on my magma cravings! Well I don't care what he says. Mmmm...magma...I'll bet it tastes....super burny. *drools*
From under-the-radar to the biggest blip . . . my, what a strange week this has been. Iím starting to feel a slight identity crisis . . . Iíve gone from invisible . . . to nearly drowning . . . to completely useless . . . to . . . power player! Meeeeee, a power player! A challenge juggernaut! Who knew? Well, if they didnít before, the guys do now, because I, quite literally, torched all in the reward challenge. You should have heard them, whining and carrying on because they got their skulls burned. It was fitting for those hotheads. HA! Get it? Hotheads? Their skulls . . . on fire? Never mind. Then thereís Eliza. Hmmph. I donít know where little Miss Boney Bambiís attitude came from, but I canít say I was too thrilled with her little display. Even though this is all about grrrl power, I half-considered voting her out for being such a sulky spoilsport.
But, then, I received my reward and forgot all about her. It wasócan you believe thisóa helicopter ride through a gorge and a picnic lunch, to be enjoyed with my new best friend, Julie! NO WAY? WAY. It was beautiful . . . it looked just like Jurassic Park! And it was oh-so-empowering to be able to look down on all the rest scurrying about with their fire, water, and pointless, demeaning tasks. *points and laughs* Ha ha! At the crest of a dormant (or, at least thatís what I was hoping) volcano, I had a lovely picnic with Julie, got snockered, and abandoned strategy intrigue in favor of an insidious plot involving chicken wings. You enjoying those bones, fellas? Bwa ha ha ha ha!
But never fear, Survivor fans. Though you may not see any strategy or twists regarding the voting plan, I will gladly make this entertaining television by dancing the tango with Julie. Ba-dum-dum-dum-dum! How many does it take to tango? Two. The final two. Oh yeah! Bring the winnerís cape and scepter to me . . . and a smaller one for Julie.
I've seen a lot in my time on Mother Earth, and gained a lot of wisdom. But it's never too late to learn something new, and that's just what I did this week. Sitting around the fire at breakfast, Sarge had a look of pure, savage hatred. At first I thought it was because I brewed up a pot of Hazelnut coffee this morning and he's partial to French Vanilla Roast. When I realized he was just angry because we voted out Rory, I thought I'd sing to calm him - you know, music soothes the savage beast and all. Well, all my singing did was make him look angrier. So it turns out that some beasts are too savage for soothing. I'll have to put that in a mem'ry in the corner of my mind.
I felt a little guilty eating chicken wings and then telling the men we just had bones. Wait, no I didn't. I reveled in it. It was like a metaphor for the oppression our gender has faced at the hands of their's for centuries, only turned on it's head and reversed. I'm sure that makes sense somehow. My mind must be a little addled from that extra rush of protein.
I've had enough of the little one. I had considered trying to form an alliance with her, but I just can't stand being around that energy. And those eyes. Those God forsaken big, black velvet kid painting eyes. I swear if Ami hugs Eliza hard enough those eyes are just going to pop clean out. I haven't seen eyes like that since the last time I watched "Young Frankenstein."
Y'all have no idea how hard it was for me to vote off Sarge this week. I mean, I love that man! He is like an expertly-laid roadbed, the perfect mix of rough gravel and smooth tar. I used to think about how him and me might be the final two, and have a night alone on the island, no one to bother us, just a man and a woman alone under the stars. A perfect settin' for me to make my move. But it weren't to be. I've been mistrustin' Sarge lately, since Julie told me the men had promised her final-four too. Well, I finally told him 'bout that, and he cleared it up, explainin' how Julie was lyin' through her perfect little teeth. But then he said them fateful words -- "You was gonna be fourth, Twila." Huh? Fourth? I ain't bustin' my ass out here in the sticks for no fourth place. Not even for a godlike hunk of man like Sarge. I knew right then that he'd have to go. I'd be bitter about that fourth-place load of b.s., and it would taint the unspoken but pure love we share. With him off the island, we can pick up where we left off after the show ends, without no hard feelin's. I wasn't betrayin' my love -- I was helpin' it. Meanwhile, I can stretch my wings a bit and get to work on gettin' these little sorority chicks out of my way -- AND have a buddy on the jury, to boot. But hey, if my torch gets snuffed along the way, I ain't worried -- I wouldn't mind at all to reunite with Sarge in whatever seclusion set-up they've got goin'. He can light my fire anytime. Well, you know, re-light it, I reckon.
Iíve smelled something since those females moved to camp Lopevi, and itís not just estrogen. I sensed deceit, and mutiny in the ranks. A good commander has to be aware of all things at all times. That crazy old broad Scout tried to break my spirit with that horrible singing. Alinta sounds like something you take for a mental condition, and that must be why she picked it. I think she needs to be put on an ice floe somewhere. Too bad we are in the South Pacific. Iíve said before this area is hard on the American military man. The women targeted me early in the reward, putting me on a personal high alert. I never was any good in the signal regiment, so I was a failure at the immunity challenge. I even fraternized with Twila who is now in the enemy camp. What do you mean a solid fourth place isnít good enough? She thought she was due a better promotion in the ranks. I had to face up to the ultimate in insubordination, and was voted off. I started to plan immediately to command the jury. The one that wins this campaign will not have estrogen, and will not be a slacker if I have anything to stay. The Sarge never gives up, not even after a battle defeat.
Thank you to the following for contributing to the shadows this season: Bill, Bravo, cali, eny, Feifer, hepcat, Ilikai, Lobeck, Lucy, Manny, Miss F, Paulie, Shazzer, sher, spegs, Stargazer, Wayner, Wolf and Zaius.