Will Compton, I’m looking at you specifically.
You have texted me after each episode of this God-forsaken show to teach me thecorrectmoves I could have made.
You look like a snowman made entirely of buttons.
I trust too easily.
I believe in the best of people.
Oh, need I remind you all that I was concussed?
Trace the trajectory of my thought process in the game asbeforethe concussion andafter.
There is a MARKED change: before, I had some semblance of strategy, confidence, and cunning.
After, I was an eggplant casserole doing everything I could to keep my own saliva inside my mouth.
Look at this:
Does that look like the face of a killer?
Of someone who would sniff out the machinations being spun against him?
I am fucking gone, girl.
Frankly, anything that takes me out from this point is a mercy killing.
I’m talking, of course, of my immunity idol.
Looking back, that thing undid me.
It was too hot for me to handle.
Then someone went through my bag, where I was hiding it.
In a million fucking years, I couldn’t have put that shit together.
Everything that was happening in that counsel was a BRAND NEW EXPERIENCE for me.
I don’t even know if I knew what happens if there’s a tie!
Because, for the hundredth fucking time, I don’t watch Survivor.
He was legitimately furious with me for not watching multiple seasons of Survivor to prepare for the show.
He, like so many of you, could not fathom how I had not prepared more for this.
I don’t watch Survivor because I don’t like gameshows or reality TV.
Those whodon’twatch Survivor feel I was screwed.
But were we playing by proper Survivor rules?
Was it on me to phrase my question better, or on Jeff to phrase his response more clearly?
Can you pass an idol to someone after votes have been cast?
Who should be the ultimate decider of a ruling in the show?
Should I have learned the rules before playing?
There is no point in answering a single one of those questions.
Because there is another episode tonight.
And another seven or so coming after that.
And none of you will care about this in a matter of hours.
Which brings me to WHY I played Surviving Barstool, and what my goals were.
Uniquely among the contestants (I suspect), I went into this show with ZERO expectation of winning.
Most importantly, I played because… Dave asked me to.
Hell, I was barely invited, only making it off the bubble when Stu dropped.
But something deep within me whispered, “go.”
It is grace and growth, all the woo-woo shit wrapped up in a California handroll of composure.
In the end, people will argue the semantics of Jeff’s wording.
But to me it, it’s irrelevant; I was going home regardless.
And that’s all I really wanted to be in this gameentertaining.
