pagooey

Linda was definitely way 'round the bend, even for this show. I was kind of puzzled by her super apocalypto-prepping, because she was very clear on "hoard thee thine crap" as the Eleventh Commandment, but she clearly was NOT expecting to be Raptured up outta that shithole before global doom. I guess even the occasional righteous person must stay behind to hand out zippers and busted lampshades? I did enjoy her scavenged 80s Dynasty lewks, all shoulder pads and lace insets and jumpsuits and smeared-on filth. The End Times doesn't mean we don't need to look our best, ladies. <politics>It's 10 days til the Inauguration. Hell, maybe Linda has a point. </politics>

Okay, I'll bite: a jarring business? Is that...a business that startles and alarms people, or something to do with actual jars? Making them? Filling them with bath beads/peanut butter/moonshine? So distracted now! OT: FenceGate, or according to the defendants at least one photo of GateGate...what a dud. All that crap holding up the fence on one side or the other might be...similar to my strategy with the very tiny closets in my home. Shhhh.

Dan, grousing about how much further he'd get with steel traps, reminds me of the previous contestants who couldn't hack it without their beloved guns. Yes, yes, you could also stay out there a lot longer if you had a car, a condo, and a nearby 7-11, but THAT AIN'T THE POINT. I understand the "lazy" inertia strategy, but I think it really compromises the mental part of the game, and Dan is showing that through his default angry boredom, doing next to nothing and finding it excruciatingly dull. Meanwhile, Callie's shelter looked like a beautiful rustic spa before she added the sauna to her site. She's keeping busy, and still has the energy and wit to place an urgent phone call to the President. Horrified, I bought it for a second, until she started demanding to be patched through to the big red phone, and then I laughed my face off. I love Fowler's woven wattle shelter, too, though I worry about him exhausting himself. His craving for sunlight, though, I totally get. I live in Seattle, and watching the Vancouver Island series was hard because those long stretches of winter where it just rains and rains and rains and rains for days or weeks at a time are a misery, even from inside a cozy house. I'm sure the cold but gorgeous weather in Patagonia is helping these folks keep from losing their minds entirely. Except Dave, maybe. Was he sobbing? Laughing? during his opening segment? He's looking rough.

Seriously, ChipBach, you KNOW they're in there somewhere. (I remember at least one set of dentures being located at the bottom of a filthy hoard in a previous season, so there's a precedent!)

I am a confirmed Christmas dork, and spent this weekend putting up my tree and assorted holiday tchotchkes. And then I watched Ann, and considered just burning the house down on January 1. I fear the slippery slope, y'all! (Laughed my head off at the scenes ominously scored with "Nutcracker" excerpts, though.)

Bright fuchsia satin blouse here. Paired, always, with silver-grey VELVET JEANS, because I was Playing With Texture.

I added this to the DVR as soon as it was possible, and I too have been weirdly comforted by the episodes I've seen so far. (Seth Rogen's gobsmacked I-can't-believe-any-of-this-is-happening laughter was a particular highlight.) I've adored Martha and her weird, bone-dry sense of humor forever, and this is a fantastic showcase for it. Sort of related to Stephanie's overall thesis: Hillary Clinton on "Between Two Ferns" reminded me for all the world of exactly this, Martha's dry dry deadpan wit. It adds an extra layer of consolation to this show now, to see a regal 70-something badass lady sipping cocktails and blithely welcoming rappers and pothead comedians to commune around her perfectly elegant table.

All I can see, with Donna doing that curtsey-dip, is Maya Rudolph's character pooping in the street in Bridesmaids.

Well, F*cking Larry, I still f*cking love you, man. Somehow I found his whole arc, and his emotional evolution--wide-swinging as it was--to be the most compelling. Maybe it was partly the editors' doing, but Larry's rawest, most open moments seemed to make it onscreen. His little breakdown, sobbing and praying for mercy, was very difficult to watch, and I'm an atheist. (I also worried that finding out he was the last tap--SO CLOSE!--would drive Larry to madness. And hell, maybe it has...but holly, thank you so, so much for posting that video of Larry's homecoming. Larry, stopping at the bakery before seeing his family, and bringing home approximately a gross of cinnamon rolls? Comedy GOLD. Even better--Larry waiting to cut his homecoming cake until he'd retrieved the other $300 or so of pastries from the car. And HELL YEAH he wants ice cream! I do feel better about Larry, I do!) The suspense of the last episode was masterful. Brilliant editing, and I'm delighted and thrilled for David. I thought he was doomed for sure when he bashed his knees like that. I'm 46, and smashed my knees into the under-dash in a car accident in February; it took me almost four months to feel completely normal. As for Jose, I was also shocked that he just stood there in the water waiting for rescue. He was SO DONE he no longer seemed to be thinking clearly. Did he actually end up borrowing clothes to change into from one of the producers, since he'd soaked virtually everything of his own? I was touched to see the one guy loan him that dorky, colorful little toque, like a South Park character. You're an interesting man, Jose, but I don't think this show was right for you.

Incredibly late to the party, @David T. Cole, but the Microsoft turf-the-statistically-lowest-performer practice you mentioned in here was the dreaded "stack ranking." Benefited from it myself, and thank Jebus, frankly. (I also had to do it, during a brief terrible foray into management, and in those meetings it was also referred to as The Lifeboat Exercise. Literally, who can you most afford to shove into the sea? I am almost completely recovered now.) ETA: and if I'd unpaused to listen for another 60 seconds, I'd have noted that OF COURSE DAVE KNOWS HOW TO GOOGLE. Looking like a dope is my price to pay for falling this far behind.

Holy crap, I'm in the tank for Fuckin' Larry. Go, man, go. At first his @$!!#&? tirade-tantrums were hilarious to me...but I'm actually touched by how, as time wears on, he's mellowed and become more philosophical. It seems as though he's realized that, no matter how he curses the "darkness" (tree root/pokey branch/sneaky rodent/etc.), the universe and the wilderness are completely indifferent. And so he's just hanging in there...singing little songs about how it is still boring and cold and difficult, but taking small joys in the tiniest things. The prize money would be life-changing for anyone, but I feel like Fuckin' Larry has (however inadvertently) given himself the time to step back and really think about the rest of his days, the changes he wants to make, and the ways in which that would be even easier with half a million dollars.

I want to revisit Boggs vs. Boggs for just a second. One of the great joys of having a DVR is that I pause on any documents and scan them more avidly than JJ herself...and this is how I learned that, in addition to Mr. Boggs's claims that his once and future missus was suing him "for despite," in Mrs. Bogg's handwritten tally of costs she'd made note of the expenses of "Sugar Gladrs."

This remains the sum total of things I know about Albania, as well. No "Toora Loora Loora," though? :)

Maybe Larry's only thinking in 10-days-ahead increments because they're all nearing the S1 victory point. They're at what, day 50? I know I would be thinking of Alan, and/or willing the production team to come get me, come get me, come hand me the check, any day now, any minute now, come get me... My sis and I have been singing Lucas's Two-Note Song since last season, but somehow it never occurred to us that it is infinitely adaptable! :) Like others have said, David's growing on me too. He might as well have gone completely in after his entire spool of line, but I suspect that he was shocked enough by the slip and the cold water that his first instinct was just to get the hell out. I can't decide what to make of Jose. He does beautiful work...but he obsesses over it to his own detriment. That sleek, elegant jig, juxtaposed with F*ckin' Larry's Splinter McShovelSpoon, made me giggle. Meanwhile, I haven't camped since Girl Scouts in the early 80s, but even I predicted that the salmon run would be long past. Hell, I also knew because I have watched any narrative television program, ever, before. Jose was telegraphing this mishap from the get-go. Nicole's getting a little loopy; I'm worried for her. Seals are adorable, but they are also definitely fat salmon-stealing bastards.

I'll be damned--I've reached the point where I like them all. David's a bit of a mope, but his perpetual fantasy-holy-grail of a bucket of chicken amuses me. Nicole is a purely enjoyable presence, and I missed her this week. Jose is an artiste, and I have immense respect for his skills...although weeks of Kayak Workshop have not been the most exciting viewing. I was shocked that those dinky little outrigger floats worked at all--shouldn't they have extended further from the kayak, and/or been bigger? I'm picturing Mike paddling around in the SS Barbara here. And Larry, F*ckin' Larry, bless you--you are comedy gold. I don't know what it says about me, that I am endlessly entertained by his stream of epithets, and the fact that he gets just as frickin' excited and happy over a smooshed mouse as he got incensed and furious at cutting logs a leeeetle too short, over and over again. I'm a little worried that we are temperamental soulmates. I'm glad to see him comparatively happy, now--the little bastard might just be tenacious enough to win this thing.

I don't know, y'all...I still find Fuckin' Larry compelling, and somehow more relatable, this week. I was still laughing helplessly at his bleeporiffic rants--the one where he trailed off and then promptly bonked his head on the roof of his crappy original shelter? I was rolling. Unlike some other posters, I haven't found his rages particularly frightening--more just a lot of bluster. Yeah, yeah, he's gonna blow up his whole camp (how?) for what he perceives is one tiny mouse. Sure, he kicked and pounded at that troublesome root...but he wasn't hurting anybody, doing any real damage. I say this from the perspective of someone who works at a computer all day, and famously mutters long bleepable streams of invective under my breath re. all the idiotic decisions and nonsensical emails that fly across my screen. Like Larry, I have a filthy mouth and am a grouch; when I'm annoyed at the office, I...type harder. That's how I defuse my temper! But I'm also, thankfully, medicated. When Larry had his "oh my god, this is my life, this is it, just plodding until retirement" moment, it changed my whole view of him from "comical trashmouth" to "severe unmanaged depression." I have been there, god, I have had that moment, those thoughts. (I think I'm a couple years older than Larry.) And I've gotten reams of therapy, and sweet delicious Paxil, and now I can do my job and quietly mutter obscenities and then walk away happy at 5 PM. It has been a lot of work, conquering those demons, and I had tons of help; I certainly never had to confront them all alone, for days on end, hungry and cold and slogging in the rain. My heart broke a little for ol' Fuckin' Larry. I don't think he'll last much longer, but I hope that the lightbulb went off for him to get some support when he gets home. It does get better, Larry! Other observations: Jose is on another level, and perhaps another show. The juxtaposition of his meticulously hand-crafted canoe labors and Mike, dancing a jig in the SS Rubbermaid Tub, was a delight. I have to wonder, though: who's going to get to the salmon run first? This might be the time to come up with a janky, half-assed solution, Jose, even though it goes against your very soul. Randy keeps me guessing. He toiled on his cabin, making improvements to what might already be the best shelter; he made himself a mattress; he asked himself "wait, why am I doing this?" When he was fully bundled in jacket and cap, I thought for sure he was tapping right then. And Nicole continues to quietly impress. She's just making a go of it, day by day. I like her.

So sad and shocked to see Tracy go. She didn't hurt that bear cub at all by being loud at it. :) I hope she comes to realize that, and that she successfully conquers her demons. I am impressed with Mike; he's got some Gilligan's Island shit going on at his campsite, what with the elevated cooktop and foot-operated hand-washing station. The implication about Barbara's kissin' skillz on national television, though...that might've been a mistake, buddy. David also rubs me the wrong way, somehow, but I was very impressed with his handcrafted gill net. After Larry's many tirades, whenever his chyron comes up onscreen I amend it to "Fucking Larry." I was tickled to hear him try to stick to "frickin'" this week--and that he swore as happily at actually catching fish as he did with rage when sticks/cliffs/trees got in his way. I have a soft spot for him, somehow.

Oh, Larry! I think I enjoy his antics, competent or not, because of the swearing. God knows I'd be thrashing my way down a cliff and scalding the earth with my language, too--cursing myself and whoever else might be responsible for getting me into this hellscape. If Larry does in fact punch his boiling dinner right out of the pot I will hurt myself laughing. Mike seems to have genuine skills, and his childhood sounds wretched. But I find myself...pulled out of the show, I guess?...by his refrences to his faith and sort of reflexive praise-giving. I am a godless pinko atheist heathen, so maybe it just grates on me more...but the show's not Alone Except For Jesus. Considering Tracy's tidy campsite and roaring fire on night 1, I hope that the next time we see her she's got a full cabin constructed.

I'm still thinking about Desmond, and about neurochick's observations, above. TV producers definitely care about ratings--hence the Naked part of N&A. I kind of want to believe that the producers of this particular show, at least, are less invested in reinforcing lame, reductive stereotypes...but maybe I'm delusional. And I admit that I--a white woman who if deposited alone in the wilderness would sob so loudly the boat would turn around--was initially rooting for Desmond because I wanted him to subvert the assumptions I, and others, have absorbed from the culture at large. When he tapped out, within hours, I was mortified for him, and disappointed...but how much of that is my own privilege talking? I mean, one of Desmond's ten items shouldn't be The Burden of Proving To The World That African Americans Are Competent Campers. I'm all tangled up in my own best intentions here, and that's both maddening and edifying. Maybe the trope this show actually demonstrates is that the majority of black people have better sense than to endure Vancouver Island in November in a janky lean-to? ...ha ha?

Ohh, Desmond. I wanted to root for you, and then you didn't last til sunset, dude! He reminded me of being left home alone with my cousin as a kid, when we insisted we were too old for a babysitter and NOT AFRAID AT ALL, NO WAY, IT'S FINE. Smash cut to 20 minutes later, three kids crammed in the hall closet clutching an aluminum baseball bat, scared shitless of the murderers we'd convinced ourselves were imminent. I'm hoping Tracy will go far; mad props to her not only for her comfortable campsite and merrily blazing fire, but for pointing out the "widowmaker" overhead and then shoving a dead tree down with her bare hands. And I couldn't help laughing at Larry, emitting a Yosemite Sam-esque string of bleeped curses as he slid endlessly down a cliff face. I could watch that for an hour. Good luck, you poor bastard. I love this show so much, and also they do not PRINT enough money to convince me to do this for a hot minute. :) Or a sodden, freezing minute, as the case may be.

Yeah, I'm not in the market for a purse that gets a better vacation than I do!

<securely buckles cheez balls in, for safety>

I replayed the Zaz's mouse freakout probably ten times. Lord love you, Dr. Tonya Hoarding, that was gold. I would totally do the same...although you'd think she'd be a bit more inured to vermin in the mayhem, by now? Sandy's flat affect and absolute incomprehension of how dire her situation was made me mostly sad; I get the impression that she's never been Quite Right, and losing herself in what appeared to be a sea of shitty (literally) fantasy-romance-vampire-baloney novels, for 50 years, suggested a blank loneliness I can't wrap my head around. She and Nona both looked to have lived hard lives. What a disaster. I was appalled but not surprised, if that makes sense, that Sandy drove around the block or whatever in her hoarded-up car and slunk right back. She literally doesn't have any idea what else to do. I found Len utterly charming from the get-go, and it's clear that his god-family loves him and is committed to working with him. Got a good feeling about Len's future! And St. Dorothy is one of my favorite people on earth. My house isn't even messy (thanks, Hoarders! years of this have vastly improved my housekeeping!), but I'd love to have her over just to shoot the shit, and maybe straighten up my garage?

I thought, "Don't let Picasso be your makeup artist," so yeah, there was some serious dimensional oddness going on! Meanwhile, Angela, I am STILL laughing at "I'll split ya doon the middle!" I grew up with my Norwegian grammy who was much the same; she once smacked a neighbor child with a broom when he deliberately rode his bike across the front lawn to taunt her. She also chased the local bully down the block in her stocking feet when he threw a rock at me; ruined her nylons, but she followed him to his front door and gave him and his mother both what for. Best of all, Grammy was a ringer for JJ, god bless her. Tiny and furious; if only she'd had the resources to go to college and law school...oh, what might have been! oakLeaf...did you work for a gigantic, world-dominating software company just off of 520? Because I used to see a Herbie Beetle there, too...but I hadn't seen Taboo and so had no idea of the potential for Car Rape. O.O

Except for Baby Boy's real daddy, Angela!