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Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 06-18-09, 03:28 PM (EST) "Big Brother: Secret Mission Episode #1 - "Earn Money Sleeping"" ----------------------------------------------------------- Blog Entry, 7/1/2009 Authored by: Rex Majors, stillaliveandkicking ----------------------------------------------------------- "Foreman, has the jury rendered a verdict?" "We have, Your Honor." Wait for it. "In the matter of the State of Indiana versus Ronald Lee Majors, on the charge of second-degree murder...we find the defendant..." The other two charges - assault with a deadly weapon and public endangerment - already turned up guilty verdicts. The charge against attempted murder had long since been dropped, not that it really mattered; this was the charge that he had to be brought up on or it just wouldn't be the Trial of the Century. "...guilty." I resist the urge to do a fist-pump and shout in joy at the verdict - yes, he killed the woman I love, and even though she's been dead for more than six months, letting her go has been a lot harder than just burying my head in my new job - even if it's a great one. After all, that apartment is just too damn big without Carrie, even if it's effectively a one-bedroom broom closet in West Hollywood - and yes, I've been asked several times if I'm the only straight person living in West Hollywood. Trust me, I'm not. I can't let people see me cry - sure, my predecessor didn't seem to show a whole lot of emotion and was almost incapable of shooting from the hip, seeming to rely on a script and never asking follow-up questions so as never to let anyone know she had no idea what the hell she was doing - so I head out to my car, the same Dodge Stealth I took on my long, cross-country journey from L.A. to Muncie, Indiana, site of the worst night of my life and the worst Christmas of most people's. I think my Uncle Larry's grandkids must have asked a hundred times why Uncle Rex wasn't joining them. At least they acknowledged me - Ronnie's little hellions never once asked where Carrie was. It's as if he taught them she didn't exist. As dangerous as Ronnie is, and since his own wife even broke down and testified as a character witness - originally for the defense, since they were supposedly the perfect Aryan family, but eventually for the prosecution, after the district attorney finally needled out of her what the real story was behind those black eyes, cuts, bruises, and broken fingers were - we should be looking at a long sentence. He's about a year-and-a-half older than me - Uncle Larry started a family sooner than Dad did despite being the younger sibling - and if he's out before retirement age, I'll be shocked. Won't do him much good to be on the outside; he'll have to resort to a crappy job, his kids now speaking to him, and eventually living in a retirement home for washed-up white supremacists. His generation can talk about the time when that black guy got elected President - and no matter how well he does in office, he'll be the worst thing ever to happen to the United States. Yet all the while, none of them would have voted for his opponent in '08 - we're one heartbeat away from a woman being President, and God knows they can't have that either. But enough about the SOB who killed my girlfriend - the suicide defense didn't hold up, by the way - and more about the big event. Eight days from now, I make my broadcast debut in front of a captive audience of fourteen and a national audience of God-knows-how-many. I was guessing I'd be facing Julie through the screen from the inside of the house when I auditioned in L.A. in January; I didn't actually think they wanted me to host. That and I had no idea Julie resigned from CBS - apparently Fox News tabbed her since then. She's exactly what they want - a robot who's incapable of thinking for herself. OK, maybe I'm being too hard on her; she's probably a perfectly nice woman who just had no business hosting Big Brother. For all I know, she's really intelligent - maybe she could have been an architect or a teacher...nah, if being called Ms. Chen grates on her, that never would have worked out. Now for my cast, the fourteen who will be playing for a half-mil - I'd want a little more than a half-mil if I spent three months in a house full of half-insane people bored out of my ever-loving mind and didn't kill at least half of them. Maybe a lifetime supply of the best dope in existence. Come to think of that, maybe they should supply that dope to the houseguests - call it Big Brother: Totally Baked. I have the feedback from when production surprised everyone with their house keys. No, I haven't read it. Yes, I will now. First up...I'll start at the top of the alphabet with Ben Switowski. According to my reports, when production showed up at his door to tell him that he was on the show, his mother answered. She repeatedly told the crew to get off her property and insisted that her son never entered any contests, and we could take our "unholy Publishers Clearing House checks" and burn them with everything else. Apparently, the whole Big Brother decor didn't seem to register with her; apparently, some people had never heard of the show in Eden, Utah. Recognizing the commotion, though, Ben eventually sauntered out to greet the crew - and you would have thought he had just been given a new bike on Christmas morning from the way his eyes lit up. It's a bit of child-like wonder that is so unseen in reality TV these days. Well, maybe in Erik from Survivor: Fans vs. Favorites - that guy was hilarious. He threw together clothes at an alarming rate, not caring if anything matched, and dashed out into the street with a duffel bag full of random things - it was as if we told him, "We're going to light your house on fire in 20 minutes. Get anything you want into this duffel bag; the rest goes up in smoke." And for all I know, that's exactly what the crew told him. His back story’s a little unusual - seems he blames everything from his status as "unemployed" to his low credit score on his mother. Sure, sure. He says he was on his way to success when he was 19 - a job selling furniture to put himself through school, an associate's in graphic design, a girlfriend, and hope for moving out and starting his life the way his big sister did. Fast-forward two years, and he has no job, got expelled from community college (plagiarism was the charge; apparently, he turned in an obviously forged paper for a history class he had to take,) his girlfriend won't talk to him (according to her, Ben cheated; he swears he didn't,) and he has no money and no car. He says he has two choices at this point - live on the streets or live with his mother, who, Ben says, is a control freak. Losing a husband to a plane crash and a daughter to business school in a span of two weeks will cause a woman to want to regain control of her life - but in this way? It's a little hard to believe that she set Ben up in the manner he says she did. Apparently she got him fired from his job by impersonating an angry customer, switched out a paper he had written for a forged one and made sure he didn't notice, and created an online profile to impersonate a girl Ben was supposedly dating. Then, to make sure he stayed home, she sold his car, drained his bank accounts, and took out credit cards in his name, racking up thousands in debt and refusing to pay it back to tarnish his credit score. According to Ben, he ran his credit score a year ago - and it was 422. It's entirely possible we're looking at a total mama's boy who wouldn't know what to do in a survival situation, even one like Big Brother. Or, for all we know, he's the greatest sociopath this game has ever known - Will, Boogie, and Dan, step aside. You're about to get schooled. OK, now out of small-town Utah and into the Big Apple - the antithesis of small-town Utah, and the antithesis of Ben, who begged and pleaded his way onto the show - and we get John Relaford, one of a handful of recruits in the cast. We spotted john at a pretzel stand in New York City when he was on break, one of the few breaks he claims he gets in his demanding job. He says he hasn't had a day off in eight months, and that was due to the stomach flu - and his boss ordered him to go home. Apparently the boss's words were, "If you're still in the building in 20 minutes, I'll have security escort you out, and you can come pick your things up tomorrow." And as John freely admits, his job is his life. It wasn't always like this for him - our casting department was so dead-set on casting John that an agent called him four times, hearing a "no, thanks" each time, and the process began when John called to ask to be removed from consideration, only to change his mind - in fact, at one point, he had a wife and son who were important to him. But when he got out onto that NYSE floor... ...everything changed in John Relaford's world. The job went from a means of getting by to a way of life. Getting to the top was the most important thing. Oh, it's my boy's birthday? Sorry, Daddy has a lot of buying and selling to do. Holidays? Sure, the stock floor's closed. But there's paperwork to be caught up on, and surely there are clients that need contacted - who cares if it's Christmas? Finally, the wife decided she had enough and left him - he couldn't tell us what she was up to these days; he couldn't even tell us his son's name from memory. Which meant that the entire casting process was whittled down to 90 minutes, during which time John checked his PDA eight times, filled out a dozen forms, and managed to sneak in lunch. Predictably, we had to surprise him with the news as the stock floor closed, and it was met with relative indifference. Makes me wonder if we should have cast a couple more people in case we got someone like this. But the producers wanted John, so John they get. And then from the bright lights and the hustle and bustle of New York City comes...an NYC transplant. Staten Island, to be exact - and the name almost gives it away. Giovanna Petrozzo. Nope, nothing stereotypical about her - Italian, obvious NYC accent, and brought her favorite thing about the city to her adopted hometown of Miami, Florida - deli meat, and lots of it. When casting came to see her, it was a busy Friday afternoon at her deli, popular with businesspeople, and I think we made everyone's day - at least those who have heard of Big Brother or maybe own a television. She thanked everyone with a free sandwich, and given the price of meat, I know it killed her to do so. Some college kid filled in for her as she excused herself to go pack; apparently, her wardrobe consists mainly of tank tops, denim jackets, and form-fitting jeans, some of which look a little tight on her. Her apartment's in shambles - her boyfriend, the domestic one, is out of town on business, and his "bitch ex-wife" is watching his 5-year-old son, who apparently "just loves" Giovanna. With a little room to spare in her duffel bag, she takes out a 6-pcak of Natural Light and asks if she can bring it along - she didn't expect us to say yes, so she couldn't say she was too disappointed - so she opens one and offers the rest to the crew. No one wanted to get busted for drinking on the job, so Giovanna just smiles and says there's "more for her." The next conversation was a little hard to make out - Giovanna's boyfriend Dave called, and she told him the good news - but she was screaming most of it. I guess his trip was going well, and apparently his son was miserable as all hell staying with "Cruella de Vil." Not exactly a happy divorce, I take it, though as far as I know, Dave's ex-wife isn't in the cast. As far as I know. Of people in for a bit of a surprise...we go down south to Jamal Washington. The Amazing Race: Expedition wasn't so kind to Jamal or his Race partner, Ray Nabors, his future father-in-law, nor was it kind to his chances with Ray's daughter. Of the seven continents the Race visited, Jamal made it to four, completely missing Africa, Asia, and Australia. But to be fair, only the top five got to all seven continents, including - and damned if Jamal couldn't have put this team out - Dana Quinn and her late partner Carrie Burnside, the season's eventual champions. The Intersection seemed so innocuous in Prague, but by the time the teams got to Krumlov Castle, no other teams were around, so one thing was clear - the Roadblock was do-or-die. It was simple enough - fencing. Score five points before your opponent does, and you win. Jennifer caught on really quickly - but fencing in college will do that. Jamal? Ummm...well, a college dropout who probably thought fencing was something you did to enclose your yard. But beating a 5'6", 206-pound law student can't be that hard, can it? And beating her after staking out to a 4-2 advantage, needing only to get one of the next three points to advance, should be a piece of cake, right? Had Jamal beaten Dana, all the trouble finding the clue in the castle basement would have been for naught; even if Carrie had long legs, Dana would have been weighed down, and at least Ray and Jamal could have beaten them in a footrace. But Jamal choked, the girls found the clue, Ray and Jamal were out, and Carrie and Dana went on to win. Even if you factor in Carrie's death...damnit, always about her again...it's like I need a swear jar just for that name. Every time I say "Carrie," I put a quarter in. That'll add up - So I was reading Stephen King's "Carrie" and this really great Carrie Underwood song came on the radio, and all I could think about was Carrie Nation. Seventy-five cents. For Jamal, getting over Taylor has been a lot like me getting over a past girlfriend - get out of the situation, work hard, and don't think about it. He referred to Taylor in his casting interviews as a "past mistake." Well, as we all know, mistakes are often repeated and don't always go away...and with that, enter Taylor Nabors. The ex-girlfriend, the "past mistake," and the woman Jamal says he never wanted to see again. Well, apparently it wasn't over for her. After the Race, Jamal started accusing Taylor of being unfaithful. Apparently, she had another boyfriend, and she saw this guy an awful lot during the Race's production schedule - and was still seeing him afterwards. Normally, accusations of cheating are a colossal pain in the ass - they don't go away, they build contempt, and they cause a lot of mistrust in a completely unnecessary way. The problem for Taylor, though, is that Jamal was right - she was cheating. To make matters worse, so was her father - Ray and his wife are now divorced, and Ray's on some sort of double-secret final warning at his job. Even the prisoners look down on him, as if they've never cheated on anyone. At least Taylor confessed, though - Ray was caught in the act. Taylor volunteered the information, thinking it might save her relationship with Jamal. Needless to say, that backfired, and Jamal broke up with her on the spot. Most guys would give at least a second look to a crying girlfriend after breaking up with her, especially when she was owning up to a misdeed - not Jamal. He got the hell out of Dodge and has only talked to Taylor once - a brief call placed by Taylor. All this could have been solved if Taylor just got over one little fear, though - she won't board an airplane. If that's not a problem, Taylor waits a year and goes on the Race with Jamal, and with Jamal still in the picture, Taylor doesn't find it as necessary to cheat - supposedly. Assuming they get cast for the Race, they probably end up going on as the bickering ex-couple, and they last about as long as the typical bickering ex-couple lasts. This time, though, they're not partners, but rivals, if not outright enemies. Plus, she cheated on him - are we looking at a double-standard? Two Racers went on the show with wives or girlfriends they cheated on, and they turned out fine. A Big Brother 9 contestant cheated on his housemate and ex-girlfriend - and she seemed OK with taking him back. We'll see how well the shoe fits the other foot. And it had better be a comfortable one, not like the stilettos Taylor wears to support a 5'1" frame. They have a long road ahead this season... ...and not just because of each other. They're facing down with the best Big Brother contestant ever - just ask him. Or just read his body language - how much you want for that beachfront property in Nebraska, you say? And yes, I do know all about that poor ambassador trying to get those millions out of Nigeria; I'm so glad you could help me out with that. I'll take ten. Yes, you've just had an encounter with Jason Frazier, a.k.a. the Man Who Never Takes His Tie Off. Tall, thin, handsome, and a smooth talker, Jason acts as if he's born for the game. He never comes out and says it, but you know he's thinking, "I'm the best there is, the best there ever was, and the best there ever will be, and you can't do anything about it." It's an attitude he had to develop from a young age - he proudly tells of life as a schoolboy... ...or rather, as the Hooky Champion of the World. He says he learned to cut class at age 7 when he figured out how to talk to strangers on the phone; by age 10, he was missing about one day a week just to stay home and play video games, and by age 13, his teachers were prepared to hold him back a grade for failing two classes. Thus begins the two worst years of Jason's life - when he had to study hard and prepare himself to go to college, under his family's demands. But then he discovers his passion during a fundraiser - sales. Sure, he failed math and got D's in science and history, but he broke the school's record for most candy bars sold. It was the one time he felt driven - and Jason the Slacker turned into Jason the Salesman. He was reborn as a new animal, one whose only subsistence needs were coffee, cigarettes, and a book full of leads, and after getting his GED two weeks after turning 18, he landed his first - and only - job. He's watched colleagues and students burn out in days, or even hours, of doing what he does, but to Jason, it's the easiest job in the world - call up a business, sell them this package full of leads, and make $5,000 a month – in a slow month – doing it. Even better, he looks good doing it - yes, that tie's an Armani. But the commission isn't even the driving force. The sale is everything. At least he's here to win - and so is Elizabeth Godfrey. But, like Jason, she seems to have little interest in the prize money, but not for the same reason. When we met Jason, he was on break from his job; when we met Elizabeth, she was also on break - from Bible School. During an interview, a casting agent asked Elizabeth how she came to Christ - big mistake. We had other appointments that day, and we were there until damn near midnight. According to Elizabeth, she was 25 years old, and she saw an ad in the paper for a job fair - which just happened to be held at a church. She came to the event dressed in torn jeans and a Budweiser T-shirt, she was obviously hung over, and, on an application, where she was asked for her "reason for leaving" a past job at Dunkin' Donuts, she said it was because she "made her boss crap his pants." Apparently, she was mad at her boss, so she laced his coffee with laxative and locked the men's room door - rather than go for the women's room, he stood and held it, and an angry customer accosted him. And then it happened. And Elizabeth cracked up. And the boss put one and one together, and she was fired - and had virtually no prayer of landing any of those jobs. But she did catch the eye of a minister, a Pastor Godfrey, who explained Christ's teachings to her. He arranged for her to go to AA, got her to give up cigarettes and marijuana, and a year later, she was confirmed into the church - and a year after that, they became Pastor and Mrs. Godfrey. She now teaches Bible study and works within the home as a wife and mother to her one-year-old son Caleb, whom she proudly declared was named after Kirk Cameron's character in "Fireproof." Of all the casting agents who spoke to Elizabeth, not one had seen Fireproof, and only one had even heard of it. Letting her bring up the movie was Mistake Number Two, though - she spent forty minutes talking about how her church was now making it required viewing for all couples getting ready to be married, and her husband had handed four husbands on the brink of divorce a copy of something called "The Love Dare." It was at this point where she completely lost everyone in the room, myself included. Makes me think how she'll interact with some of the others in the house, especially Lauren Rhodes, or as she asked us to call her, Cinnamon. Apparently, Cinnamon is her stripper name - that alone should be enough to tell us that she won't get along with some of the more reserved people in the house. But if that wasn't enough, I looked at her audition tape - no clothes, no verbal filter, and that other girl? That's her girlfriend Candy. I'm not making thus up. I'm also not making up her profession – Webmaster? Actress? We’d have every angry parent in the world on us if we came out and said what she really does – that’s right, she’s in adult films. She showed up to her semi-final interview in a tank top advertising some kind of adult film company that she says was in talks with her about buying her website, and she appeared at her final interview in a bikini. Some people say, "If it feels good, do it." She amends that a bit to say, "If it doesn't feel good, don't do it." According to Cinnamon, life is short - make big bucks and do something you love. She’s fun-loving and outrageous, and she’s not above a lewd joke – when we found her at her favorite smoothie shop (amazingly, she was dressed, even if it was a bikini,) she made a point of telling us it was a peach smoothie. All peach. And definitely no banana. She has a bit of a sob story of her own - her mom died when she was six. Some kind of degenerative disease. Her father remarried, and Cinnamon and her step-mom never got along. Apparently, the step-mom is only ten years older than Cinnamon. I'd pick her and Ben as an early alliance...that is, if Cinnamon didn't say in her interview that she usually doesn't get along with guys (stripping will do that to a woman...Carrie told me that, when she stripped, she left some nights wanting to kill every man on Earth. Except her father. And the club owner, who was well-liked by his staff. Frequently, he overheard a dancer saying, "Guys suck," and when she saw he was in the room, she sheepishly added, "Except for you.") She has said, however, that she expects to be one of the most hated players in Big Brother history just because of who she is and what she does, not to mention the whole lesbian angle, but there will be a lot of people who respect her more than they've ever respected a Big Brother contestant. Part of that is that she'll have many people who can identify with her, and part of that is, as she puts it, "I play the same way I live - on the edge. If you don't live on the edge, you're just going through the motions." OK, so we know what attracted casting to Cinnamon. How the landed motion-goer Marcus Mellinger is another story. Marcus proudly said in his casting interviews that he's dedicated his life to one thing above all - safety. Not just children's safety - the usual "wear a helmet, look both ways, and stay out from under the sink" - but safety in all things. His hometown was voted the safest in the United States - coincidentally, Marcus moved his family there shortly after the announcement. After all, as a baby-proofer, he can perform his job anywhere in the country - and predictably, he chose the safe route of a corporate job with benefits over the risky life of entrepreneurship. He explained ad nauseum to the casting interviewers about the many dimensions of safety he enforces on his family, even proudly saying that, even if he makes it to the Big Brother house, his children won't be allowed to watch him, since Big Brother is inappropriate for children. And that's just the stuff that made the CBS broadcasts - God help him if anyone tells him he's in the same house where Natalie and Chelsia bared almost-all for the live feed viewers. Good thing he brought disinfectant - and a surgical mask, since secondhand smoke is dangerous. According to casting, he mainly got through thanks to Cinnamon - how's that for irony, since he shuns pornography as a danger to his computer, his marriage, and his children's precious minds - because his audition tape (you really didn't think he'd risk being mugged or having his car broken into at the Atlantic City casting call, did you? Not to mention what happens if his car breaks down on the Turnpike) was played right after Cinnamon's. The first tape got the fast-track to the final process, while Marcus was only considered for contrast. It's not as if he's a likely winner, although his paranoia would make for an interesting storyline. I better be safe - win every HoH or PoV because I can't trust anyone. Ironically, the chopping block may be the safest place in the house. Also, have to win food - God only knows what they put in the slop. Look what the slop diet did to poor Amanda in season 9, a season that's probably best forgotten if you're Marcus. After all, too much more discussion of what might go wrong is enough to make Marcus need a visit from a paramedic. Good thing there is one in the house - enter Valerie Landry-Hartman. Yet another person who doesn't engage in some of the riskier pastimes Americans enjoy - she doesn't drink, smoke, use drugs, or even drive unsafely. Are we on par for one of the tamest seasons...never mind; we still have Cinnamon. Valerie's role is also that of the single parent - not every season has one, but the list isn't exactly empty. Technically, she's divorced; in reality, she's doing it on her own - mostly. She describes her ex-husband as a "checkbook dad," a man who faithfully pays child support but hasn't so much as sent a birthday card in five years. Apparently, he never liked the fact that she chose to hyphenate her name, an oddity since it lengthens the only name people know her by in her profession. But then again, she is a born-and-raised Texan, so it's hard to argue. There's always that question she has - what if the worst happens? OK, so she's not a cop or a firefighter, and any of the usual EMS-related deaths are out, but still...anything can and will happen in EMS. So there's the matter of her son and her daughter, the reason she works all that overtime and bought that house she really couldn't afford only to see its value drop by 28% in the housing crisis. Only 22 years to go on the payments, I suppose...that makes her 63 when the thing's paid off. But time is ticking. Valerie is 41 years old, and once she can't do paramedic duties anymore, then what? Sure, there's always paramedic instructors, but who's going to listen to a foul-mouthed Texan who can't go a complete paragraph without dropping an F-bomb and always sounds like she wants to hurt someone? Even here, no one's quite sure how she made it through casting, since she called her final interviewer a "damn fool" to his face and walked away flipping him the bird, not even bothering to shake his hand. Maybe she can get a TV show based on her life, something of "Emergency" meets "House, MD." Put it on right after the Amazing Race, and I'll watch it. Then maybe we can get a show based on her housemate, the one and only Edward Vogler, a man who never loses. As a district attorney for Topeka, Kansas, he has no concerns, especially with regard to guilt or innocence - if you got far enough into the process to face him, you're guilty, and the maximum sentence isn't long enough. Oh, you're here for murder? And the person you just murdered is alive and sitting there playing Nintendo DS in the back row? Nope, must be his twin brother - fire up Old Sparky because Edward says you're guilty. According to Edward, the biggest annoyance isn't when obviously guilty criminals go free or even having to put away the obviously innocent - frankly, he admits that it's almost his favorite part of the job, simply because it instills fear in those who step outside the lines. It's all those people who confuse him with that guy from House. OK, so they both get what they want. But the comparison doesn't exist in Edward's eyes - and I never understood his argument about that. He describes his life as "the ideal American life" - a stay-at-home wife who does a pretty good June Cleaver impersonation, three kids who are all enrolled in private academies and who all read at levels far surpassing their ages, and a home in the nicest neighborhood in Topeka - or rather, Silver Lake, a suburb of Topeka. His biggest source of frustration other than people mistaking him for a fictional character is a group of particularly loud worshippers in his hometown. Edward loves Topeka but hates its most well-known residents, the Westboro Baptist Church. He never explained his views on homosexuality, but he did explain his views on the U.S. military - his grandfather was a Marine during World War II, and ever since the WBC started picketing military funerals, he began looking for a way to bring them all down. If only they weren't all lawyers, too, he could find something a little easier to nail them with. It's not like they wouldn't be found guilty, especially with Edward prosecuting. And throw the book at them. Hell, if I saw that angry TV-lawyer-esque stare, I'd go running too. Right into the arms of Cameron Ripley, the stereotypical bubbly blonde, or as some people might say, the only person in Annapolis, Maryland not affiliated with the state, the U.S. Navy, or the seafood industry. From looking at her background, we have the first official rivalry in the house - Cameron listed Project Innocence as part of her extracurriculars in college along with law school at the University of Maryland - for one semester. There's a reason lawyers earn so much - law school is so damn hard. Those who survive reap the big paydays. Those who don't? End up an extra $20,000 in debt that they can't pay off on a professional recruiter's salary, and certainly not on a salary she made at her first job after law school - washing dishes at Olive Garden. Two years of that nearly turned this bubbly blonde into a flat gray-haired old lady. Fortunately, she got out - out of the world of Ramen noodles and dry toast three meals a day, since an insane amount of student debt won't allow her even to eat those half-off meals she gets on her all-too-short lunch breaks, and into a world of company-provided lunches with clients. It was this or show off her body for a living like Cinnamon, and at 5'2", Cameron's not exactly a strip club's type; besides, those heels hurt her feet - growing up with diabetes will do that. The good news? No slop diet for this blonde, not after what happened in season 9. Oh, there was a season 9? Yeah, apparently the producers can count after all, and it didn't go straight from Evel Dick's season to Evil Dan's. Even a bucket full of slop won't erase the taste in her mouth from her biggest mistakes, though...that one semester in law school just messed everything up, but even knowing that, Cameron would do it all over again right now, as she looks at that solid gold band she switched to her right hand just because it looks better over there. And it reminds her of...oh, that's not important now. What's important is making sure Cameron doesn't do anything she knows she doesn't want to do. That's where Harvey Tolles comes in; his life is simple - convince people not to do things they really don't want to do. No one wants to kill innocent civilians. All those bad guys really want is money, freedom, and the government off their backs, and if they have to make that threat, so be it. But by the time Harvey's done with them, most criminals almost willingly walk out to police, put their hands on their heads, and bargain their way down to a single-digit number of years in an Illinois state prison. Sure, eating prison food and worrying about being shivved doesn't match up to a million bucks in cash and fine jewelry along with a flight to South America with no strings attached, but at least the crooks can go home again - after a minimum mandatory sentence and years of bad beds, that is. There's a saying about cops - and this is true of EMS, fire, federal agents, and the military - that they are, in fact, the job. The statistics on divorce rates for cops are staggering. Some cops honestly believe that the only way their wives will stay with them is if they die in the line of duty, or that's what Harvey told people after he got married - he and his wife were just two different people, he a hard-line cop who's more of a softie than he lets on, and she a sensitive guidance counselor who was tougher than she'd ever admit. He remembers that call from his wife on that fateful day two years before - "Honey, I'm ready to give up the smokes." She had stopped him so many times before from quitting because, damnit, she couldn't bring herself to fight that battle, not even during summers off because of her job as a summer camp counselor. Sure, she knew she was setting a bad example, but it took a monumental discovery for that to settle in. "I'm pregnant." Those weren't the last words she said to her cop husband, but it was the last conversation between the two - Harvey was working a dreadful 12-hour shift, and the other lazy bastard was going to relieve him but walked off the job to go manage a Waffle House, so here Harvey was, stuck at his job until further notice. The boiler exploded at 8:18 am, according to police records - no foul play involved. But Harvey didn't find out until news at noon - amazingly, the department let him take a lunch break - and the TV screen showed the names of the many who were killed, and on it, just as he suspected, was the wife he hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to. So Harvey did what he always does. He went out to have a smoke - damn indoor smoking bans - but this time, he looked at the pack of cigarettes and tossed them into the trash can, crushing the lighter with his shoe. He went inside, bought a pack of gum, and stuffed every piece in his mouth. And then he went back to work. He was a cop first, a husband second. And now, he was just a cop. Well, that's a wrap for this cast - sorry I don't have a more interesting segue from the last guy - we have 13 people... ...and one cold-hearted SOB who was put in the cast for one purpose: driving me insane. The Chenbot got her share of annoyances, sure, but did anyone put in any of her ex-lovers? I'm sure if Les Moonves kicked the bucket, they could dig up her high school sweetheart and put him in the house, but it's not like it matters now; Julie's gone, and all they have left is a broken-hearted man who has so much in common with some in the cast. Including our last contestant, the one who tore my still-beating heart out of my chest. threw it on the floor, and crushed it with a sledgehammer until it was nothing more than a pile of red and pink goo - when I was 18. And I was over it until just now. Honestly. Bring in Juanita Andujar, a woman who's as cruel as she is beautiful, and after all these years, she still is beautiful. Of course, when I knew her, her name was Juanita Morales, and she lived next door to me - until she went off the University of Arizona. Not every child dreams of going to the University of Arizona - but Juanita did. Why? Ask her about any aspect of the space program, and she'll tell you far more than you ever cared to know. That was her fascination from a young age, practically from the minute she stepped foot in America at age 2 - predictably, her family changed planes in Houston before heading up to San Francisco for her father's job, and she just had to have that NASA shirt. Her back story is a bit of a sob story as well - remember how I said cops have such a high occurrence of divorce? And remember how I said she left me in college for a cop? Oh, I didn't tell you that? Oh, well, she did. And she married him two years later. Apparently she preferred a tobacco-chewing cop who, last I heard, kept getting in trouble with his job for violating the rules, over a nice guy who would have given anything to be with her. And he left her - something about her constant nagging at him to give up the tobacco and start a family. She was so sure he was the one - even from the minute she met him, I hear - and yet he didn't feel the same way. She even said that he asked her to change her name back to Morales - even offering to pay the fee to do so - but she refused. It's been almost two years since the day he left, and she still hasn't done it - more out of laziness at this point in time as well as her demanding position as a rocket scientist. Yes, you read that right - I dated a rocket scientist. Well, before she got her credentials - a Ph.D. in astrophysics. I'm guessing she's the most popular person where she works - aren't rocket scientists usually skinny nerds with no prayer of dating? And aren't they usually...well, male? And usually white? Basically, kind of like...well, me? A gorgeous Nicaraguan with a million-dollar smile doesn't belong in an environment like that. But she's good. She always has been. She could recite the names of all twelve people who have walked on the moon - from memory. When she was seven. It takes someone like Juanita to be that good - she could have done anything she wanted, even singing - to think, we might be listening to the stylings of J.Mo. today if she had chosen an easy path. But the easy path wasn't for her. I guess that's why I got left out in the cold - although if I married Juanita, I never would have met Carrie and could have died waiting for a bone marrow transplant. OK, thank you, Juanita, for breaking up with me, you callous bitch. And it always comes back to Carrie. Maybe I should stop carrying around eight pictures of her in my wallet. Maybe just the one of her in her two-piece at the beach - she's so beautiful. If I wasn't so sure I'd go to hell for committing suicide, I'd kill myself now to be with her. In the meantime, I guess I should make the most of being the new face of Big Brother. I wonder what people will think when they see me...they're probably expecting a middle-aged Asian woman. I wonder if my new name will be "Julie...uh, I mean Rex." At least it's better than, "Hi, Carrie's boyfriend." OK, how much am I up to in my C-bomb jar? And her name isn't even four letters, so it's not a four-letter word. Damnit, I say.   Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

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Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 06-18-09, 03:31 PM (EST) 1. "Big Brother: Secret Mission Episode #1 - "Earn Money Sleeping"" ----------------------------------------------------------- Outside the Big Brother House, 2:55 pm PDT, 7/7/2009 - Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- The last of the fourteen houseguests is escorted to her spot on the steps in front of the house - escorted because all fourteen are wearing blindfolds. They have never seen each other...well, two of them have seen each other, a little too much, if you ask one of them, and have never heard each other - again, with the one exception. All fourteen know what's in store for them this season, or as much as fourteen soon-to-be houseguests can know. We all compete for Head of Household, Power of Veto, food, luxuries, and against the urge not to destroy everyone in sight with the first thing we see. Twelve will be evicted, assuming no one quits or gets thrown out, in which case, we'll just say they never existed. George Orwell had a word for these people - unpersons, or people who officially never existed. These were people who committed unspeakable crimes against the state - thinking for themselves, for instance. In that case, a number of past houseguests would fit just nicely into Orwell's 1984. Every houseguest has at least one hand clenched as if to conceal something, and in fact, they all were concealing tokens in their hands. Some reached in with their left hands, others with their right; some aren't making it clear which hand their tokens are in, leading some to wonder if they stashed their tokens in a pocket. That might be easy for the dark-haired man in a crisp white button-down and Armani tie, a diagonally-striped blue-and-red silk neck piece from his personal collection. Not so much for the statuesque strawberry blonde, who dared to wear a bikini top and cutoffs. Yes, they have pockets. No, she isn't about to dig through them. The waiting is the hardest part, so goes the song. At 3:00 pm sharp (Pacific time, of course; everyone knows the Big Brother house is in California even if no one ever really says so,) they're expected to be released into the house. Probably one group of five, another group of five, and then four people left to fend for Army cots, hard wooden pallets, and maybe the living room sofa. The average-looking man with graying hair stands impatiently, as if to indicate that he's headed first for the bathroom. To hell with the nice bed; I'll take the toilet - for about a minute. Then I'll kick myself for not going to the bathroom before we got here. Another man stands, wringing his hands, next to him - careful not to touch either of his neighbors, he stands about a foot apart from everyone. His hair having gone completely gray, he utters a few sentences that sound like prayers under his breath - a production member points to him and demands that he stop speaking. No one has seen him or heard him yet, and production intends to keep it that way until the host says otherwise. Ignoring those commands, however, is the brunette in the long dress. Standing about 5'7", dressed head-to-toe in a chocolate brown, and wearing a cross medallion that matches her yellow-gold engagement and wedding rings, she continues to pray, not being quiet about it. Production has to order her to stop speaking four times before she gets the message, obeying angrily until production further orders her to stop acting upset. It's a good thing no one can see; otherwise, the man in the sweater vest may have some explaining to do. Standing about 5'9", he wore his favorite vest - the one he got from the City of Topeka - and appeared to roll his eyes at the commands issued to the brunette. Sure, it's hard to tell if his eyes actually rolled, but the head motion was identical. As they stand and fidget, a change in the sound comes over the studio, irritating the ears of some, including the short blonde. She covers her ears, and as she jolts, something falls out of her pocket, hitting the ground with a loud crash and eventually shattering. "Oh, my God," she declares - and as she reaches for her blindfold, she is ordered to leave it on. A production crew member comes and picks up what's left of the object - a blood sugar monitor, it turns out. She had forgotten to put it in her duffel bag after testing her glucose level on the way into the studio, and it fell out of her jacket, crashing to the floor and now unusable. "Does it still work?" the panicked blonde asks. A crew member attempts to calm her down, with little success, and another tests it to see if it will come on. After a few tries, it's determined to be beyond repair. "I need this monitor! I'm diabetic! What am I going to do?" Production argues for a good ten minutes over the right course of action as the blonde stands impatiently, ordered to remain quiet. Finally, the huddle breaks, and a senior member walks over to her. "First off, I just wanted to apologize for the matter. I know you said in your interviews that you were sensitive to some sounds, and I should have made sure you got that monitor back in your duffel bag. That said," he continues, "we will replace the monitor. Expect it by dinnertime. We will call you to the Diary Room and give it to you then." Quietly, she thanks the crew member and re-assumes her spot in line. It's now closer to 3:15 pm, though the houseguests have no concept of what time it is at this point. Finally, the continued silence is broken over the loudspeaker. The voice is obviously female, a contrast to the male voices that are often depicted instructing cast members to go to the Diary Room or are recapping previous episodes. The accent is somewhere between London and the computer from Logan's Run; if one had to guess at her age, she was probably in her fifties. "Welcome to the Big Brother house." This is the first sentence spoken to the houseguests, who are still blindfolded. "In just a few moments, you will be entering the house, and the next time you exit, you will probably either be evicted or have won." The raven-haired woman in the tank top seems to be getting more jittery as the voice is broadcast to the houseguests. "Inside the house, you will look at your tokens. These will determine your room assignment. Keep these tokens until you are sent to the Diary Room for the first time. If you want, you may hang them by your name on the Memory Wall." Behind the houseguests, the front door unlocks; the blonde is shaken by the sound the lock makes. Behind the scenes, a crew member mouths the word, "Sorry," to her, forgetting that she cannot see. The voice continues. "When you name is called, remove your blindfold and enter the house. The first three to enter the house..." The entire first row - five females, two males - is clenching their left hands; three members of that row are clenching both. "...are Marcus, Juanita, and Cameron." The gray-haired man standing apart from his neighbors in the front row removes his blindfold, steps down, walks around the lines of people, and enters the house - immediately behind the Latina, who holds the door for him and the blonde. Almost immediately, even if there is known to be a walkway between the front door on the outside and the front door on the inside, the three called players are in the house. Marcus looks at his token - a white chip the size of a quarter with the number "4" on it in black - and heads straight to the room shown in black-and-white on the house map printed on the door, not stopping to acknowledge either Juanita or Cameron. Juanita looks at her token - pink with white writing and showing a number "8" - and maps out her path to her room. However, she waits as Cameron, the blonde, whose token is blue with a green symbol on it that appears to be a flower, and points her to her room. "I'm Juanita, by the way," she tells the blonde with a smile, extending her hand. She has no discernable Latin accent. "I'm Cameron," is the soft reply from the blonde, who shakes the Latina's hand. "Pleased to meet you." "Likewise," says Juanita. "I know we need to get to our rooms, but I'd like to chat more when we can." "I'd love that," replies Cameron, and the polite conversation ceases. Outside the house, eleven others await their clearance to enter. "The next three to enter are going to be Edward, Ben, and Giovanna," booms the voice. The man in the vest removes his blindfold and makes a beeline for the door, grabbing it only to be relieved by a young man in a plain gray t-shirt who looks to be carrying an extra 40 pounds on a 5'10" frame. The tanned woman in the tank top proceeds ahead of him, still clasping her token, and soon, the three are inside. Edward's token, like Marcus', is white - his has a number "7" on it. Giovanna reveals hers - a blue token with a green X symbol. Both find their rooms on the map while exchanging pleasantries. "You sure do have a firm handshake, Edward," are the first words out of Giovanna's mouth. Her accent is a dead giveaway of her hometown - well, her old hometown. The tan indicates her adopted hometown. "I try," Edward replies in a less-than-friendly tone as they turn to Ben, who has a black token with a red number "5" on it. "I'm confused," Ben states. "There's no black room on here." "Look at the bottom, Bill," says Edward. "It's Ben," is his annoyed reply. Edward gives a disgusted look. "Looks like you don't have a room." Edward steps back. "Well, enjoy." He walks toward the blue room. "I'm sorry about that, Ben," Giovanna warmly tells Ben. "It must be hard to be left out." "I'm used to it," Ben defeatedly replies. Outside the house, eight remaining houseguests await their instructions. "The next three to enter the house are Jason, Elizabeth, and John." The man in the Armani tie removes his blindfold and grabs the door for the other two; his duffel bag seems to have a few more box-like objects trying to poke out than some of the others. The man with the graying hair, clean shave, and light bag sets his belongings down and looks at his token - like Ben's, it's black, and the number on it is "6". He stands confused but then notices the instructions at the bottom - those with black tokens are to head to the kitchen. Ben is already waiting, sitting at the large table. He heads over without a word. The tall man in the tie tries to introduce himself, but John walks away first - so he turns to the brunette, who has a pink token with a bird on it. "I'm Jason," he says, offering his hand. "Elizabeth," she sheepishly replies, accepting the handshake. "That's a nice tie, Jason. What is it that you do?" She notices that he, too, has a pink token, his with a number "3" on it. Jason and Elizabeth walk back to the pink room. "I do telemarketing." Elizabeth appears stunned. "I cold call businesses and sell information on home purchases." As the conversation continues, five more people await their fates. "The next three to enter the house..." The voice catches the attention of all five people. "...are Valerie, Harvey, and Cinnamon." Only two people, the most recognizable two, remain, as the man in the black leather jacket grabs the door for the woman in the EMS t-shirt, clearly marking herself as part of Austin, Texas' emergency medical staff. The strawberry blonde trades a cold stare with the man in the jacket before the three are shown inside, looking over their room assignments. Harvey takes out his token - a white token with a black "1" inscribed - and looks toward the white room. "Are either of you ladies lucky enough to be my roommate?" he asks, with only a hint of a smile. "Lighten up, man," the skimpily-dressed woman replies, holding a black token with a flame on it. She looks closely at the map - and stomps her right foot, covered in a tennis shoe. "Damnit, I have no room." In the distance, Ben motions her over, sitting on the other side of the table from a nervous John. "By the way, I don't think we got off on the right foot. I'm Harvey," states the jacket-wearing man in a deadpan voice clearly ravaged from years of smoking. He offers his hand to the strawberry blonde, who cracks a smile. "Cinnamon," she replies, accepting the handshake. "Maybe you're not such a bad guy after all." Harvey turns to the paramedic and introduces himself again. "Valerie," she says, somewhat gruffly; clearly, of the women there, she's in the best, but perhaps most fragile, shape. She firmly shakes Harvey's hand and heads to her assigned room - the pink one. Her token shows a spade symbol. Outside the house, two people remain, and the voice calls out, "Next to enter the house...is Taylor." The young, black male appears momentarily confused, but the shock leaves his face as the short, stiletto-wearing black female enters, tossing back her long, curly hair. She quickly looks over her token - a blue token with a number "2" on it - and heads for the blue room, to be joined by Cameron and Giovanna. She didn't even pay any attention to the man standing near her outside the house, as if he blocked her out. Outside the house, the voice quickly states, "Anyone left outside the house can remove their blindfolds and enter." The black man notices quickly he is all alone. He stands at about average height, not too heavy, and appears to be wearing a Mississippi State football jersey. Upon entering the house, he glances at his token - blue, like Taylor's, and etched with a circle - and heads for the blue room. ----------------------------------------------------------- Blue Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- The inside of the blue room is - well, blue, an ocean blue paint on the walls with some Earth-green accent and a Mercator projection of the world. This is the largest room of the house; both beds are king-size, and there is a sofa on the edge of the room along with a cushioned rocking chair. As Jamal enters the room, Taylor is seated on one of the beds, silently, as Cameron and Giovanna are engrossed in conversation. The two East Coast dwellers, both life-long neighbors of the Atlantic Ocean, are sitting on the bed farthest from the door as Taylor faces them on the other bed wringing her hands. The earlier episode involving Cameron's blood sugar monitor seems all but forgotten. As Taylor opens her bag - mostly black clothing, some stilettos, and a pair of black-and-silver New Balance tennis shoes, along with two cartons of cigarettes she brought "in case she needs them" (Taylor never considered herself a smoker but occasionally liked to light up in social settings; in fact, the smoking ban in California were something of a pain in the ass, considering her hometown of Biloxi has no such ban.) She studies Cameron and Giovanna's unpacking in silence, also noticing that neither seems to have packed cigarettes, leaving her the lone possible smoker in the room, as well as having a big bed to herself. At this point, another occupant enters the room - the black man in the football jersey, who sets down his bag and takes a quick look at only one of his new housemates. Taylor locks eyes with Jamal, the new entrant. "Jamal?" Taylor inquisitively says. "You're here, too?" "Oh, hell no," gasps Jamal, the frustration clear in his eyes. "Not you, too." Taylor tries to make peace. "Look, everything that happened--" "I don't want to hear it." Jamal uses his hands to cut off Taylor as well. "I don't care. Don't even talk to me." Giovanna turns her attention to the two exes. "Are the two of you--" "Yes, we used to date." The first words Taylor felt like she could say to one of her two female roommates. "We haven't talked in about six months. It's unfortunate." "That sucks," replies Cameron. "Hey, wait a minute - you look a little familiar. Where have I seen you before?" Cameron's pointing to Jamal. "I don't know," Jamal retorts, playing dumb. I go to Mississippi State; you been down to Starkville?" "He was on the Amazing Race," Taylor interjects. "He was on it with my dad." "Oh, that's right." Giovanna clearly has an interest in his story. "You were the one that choked at that Roadblock." "Yeah, that was me," Jamal's words a bit more sheepish this time. "And the girl I lost to won the damn game." Giovanna's eyes turning to sympathy this time. "I'm so sorry about what happened to Carrie. She sounded like a really nice woman." "With a really great body," Cameron jokes. "I bet you wanted a piece of that action, didn't you, Cammy?" These were Taylor's words to the blonde, who gave an annoyed look, though it's not clear if that was because Taylor implied that she had a crush on Carrie or that she called her 'Cammy.' "Come on, Taylor. Even if I were into girls, there's no way she'd go for a girl like me." Trying to brush off Taylor's words with that comment, Cameron turns her attention to anyone else in the room. "I'm just saying," Taylor replies defensively. "Besides, we all know these shows - if there isn't a guy in here who dates guys, there's got to be a girl in here who dates girls." It had, in fact, been a while since there was a season of Big Brother without a gay contestant - season 4? Season 5? Lesbians were harder to come by...all anyone could name was Ivette from season 6...but gay men? An every-season occurrence. So with that, the question turned to how quickly the houseguests would learn about the others' sexual preferences. "I'll come out and say it right now - I'm straight." Jamal is the first to speak on this matter. "I heard, like, seven other guys' names, so it's probably one of them." "There's...how many this season?" inquires a puzzled Cameron. "I heard thirteen names other than my own, and I was the last to come in." He tries to remember the names off the top of his head. "I could have sworn I heard seven other guys." Taylor resumes unpacking, silently, as Jamal discusses with Cameron and Giovanna who the likely eighth guy is, forgetting that he accidentally counted 'Cameron' as a male name - even though she's right in front of him. ----------------------------------------------------------- Pink Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- As Valerie enters, the first shock is just how pink everything really is - it's as if she walked into a house designed to look like a pink cupcake. The molding looks a lot like frosting, so much so that she's tempted to eat it - although 22 years of paramedic work tells her, "Don't be a damn fool, Valerie. People end up in the ER for less than this." This is followed by the predictable thought that no one dared speak - at least the diabetic girl didn't get this room; she'd end up in a sugar coma just based on the wallpaper alone. The most long-term damning thought, though, is that there's no more bed space - and there's no way in hell she's sharing a bed with that guy in the Armani tie. It's nothing personal - he's clean-shaven, has a well-pressed shirt, and sounds pleasant - but Valerie can't stand the smell of cigarette smoke, and no amount of cologne will ever mask that smell on Jason. "Sorry about the bed situation." That's all Juanita can muster up for Valerie. There's a queen-size bed - Jason and Juanita agreed to share it, even though the tobacco smell reminds her too much of her ex-husband - and a twin bed, already taken by Elizabeth. All that remains is the sofa - which is still more comfortable than what she's used to at work. "So Valerie, judging by the shirt, I take it you're a firefighter?" Elizabeth looks at Valerie in a bit of curiosity - besides, she loves firefighters. Her brother-in-law is one, and - better not think too much. Lust is a sin of the heart, after all - no better than adultery. Besides, he's her husband's brother. "Paramedic," she corrects. "I'm not one of those crazy people that runs into burning buildings. I'm not that brave. Still," she utters, "it's good practice for sleeping on cots. This sofa's like paradise compared to what we have at the station." "Wait a minute - I'm confused." Jason's ears almost perk up dog-style. "How do you have beds at work?" "Do you know what EMS really stands for?" Valerie snidely remarks. "Ummm...Emergency Medical...no, sorry." Jason should know - his aunt's an EMT. Not that he's spoken to much of his family in a while - they really don't approve of his decision to drop out of school and pursue a career in cold calling. Sooner or later, it's going to be completely against the law, right? "In the business, we all know what EMS really stands for," replies Valerie, smirking. "Earn Money Sleeping." "EMS personnel have to be able to sleep on the job, with all the crazy hours they work." Elizabeth lends her wisdom to an intrigued Jason. "My brother-in-law works 24 hours at a shot at the fire station. No way is he getting through all that awake." Post-traumatic stress notwithstanding, that is. "How do you deal with the constant jumping into action, though?" interjects Juanita. "Sure, I have a high-stress job, but I don't go from sleeping to saving lives in seconds." "Coffee and cigarettes," Jason smilingly says. "The two most perfect foods." "I can't stand coffee," Valerie replies with a disgusted look on her face. "And I don't smoke. Never did. Most people have a few drinks after their shift. Me? I run, usually. I know - doesn't help me much." She stands about 5'8" and about 20 pounds overweight, mostly from a diet of fried chicken and mashed potatoes - which, if you ask Valerie, are the two most perfect foods. "I can't imagine life without coffee," insists Juanita. "Really." Valerie's curiosity is piqued. "What do you do?" "I know this is going to sound like a joke, but..." Hey, we have a cold call salesman in the room. "I'm a rocket scientist." "Wait." Elizabeth's a bit nonplussed. "They really have those? And aren't they usually...you know, balding men with bad neckties and no personal lives?" Fortunately, Juanita's a good sport. "I know. I know. But I always loved the space program, and I went to the University of Arizona just to get into it. I'm trying to get into NASA, and maybe if I'm lucky I can go into space one day, but I'm happy with what I do." The smile dims. "You're right, though, about the no personal lives thing." Her left hand noticeably has no ring on it. "So am I the only one in here who's married?" asks a befuddled Elizabeth. "Divorced." Valerie raises her hand - her left one. No ring. No intention of putting one on it. "Same," chimes in a saddened Juanita. "Two years now. He left me for another woman." "I'm so sorry to hear that, Juanita." Elizabeth walks over to her as Valerie steps out of the way. "Divorce is a tragedy. My husband works hard to prevent it." "Glad to know someone's husband does." Valerie's voice has a lot of disdain. "Mine wanted nothing to do with me or my kids. A thousand bucks a month in child support only goes so far." Not to drum up the sympathy angle or anything. "Fortunately, I don't have kids." Juanita's facial expression says otherwise - about the first part of that statement, not the second. "I wanted them so bad. But with my schedule, it's for the best that we didn't have them. Maybe I should have stayed with my high school boyfriend." "We all make mistakes." Elizabeth's voice is more soothing than before. "Nothing you can do about it now." "No, I don't suppose there is." Juanita looks down. "It's not like he's in one of the other rooms or anything." ----------------------------------------------------------- White Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- "I'm Harvey," says the man in the leather jacket to the man with gray hair, extending his hand. He holds it out for about seven seconds. Marcus, the recipient of the attempted handshake, doesn't extend his hand in return - and Harvey withdraws it. "I'm sorry, Harvey," replies Marcus, looking an annoyed Harvey in the eyes. "I don't like to shake hands." "Fine with me." Harvey takes his spot on one of the twin beds, of which there are three in the room, spaced about four feet apart. The bedspreads are all checkered, and the border depicts race cars. "So what's your deal, anyway, umm..." Edward asks the man who just refused the handshake. "Marcus." He opens a bottle of anti-bacterial soap and rubs it on his hands. "I don't like germs. I try to keep a germ-free household." "Is that even possible?" retorts Harvey, chomping on what appears to be pink bubble gum. "My children have a low rate of colds and airborne illnesses; they've never gotten an infection or even food poisoning..." Marcus beams with pride as he rattles this information off. "What do you do, keep them in little bubbles?" Harvey thinks back to that movie 'Bubble Boy' with Brendan Fraser. It turns out all his parents were protecting him from was the world. "You can't protect them forever." "I don't agree with that." Marcus seems a bit more agitated. "I emphasize safety in all things. I see these parents who let their children do dangerous activities like sports or dancing, and it makes my skin crawl. And the state of public schools - they actually make kids sick, you know." "Kids carry germs, you know," Edward coldly replies. "I send my kids to private schools, but they still get sick. Nothing they can do about it." "Children should be taught everything at home." Marcus is not backing down. "I've always insisted on home-schooling. My wife does most of the teaching, and my children are as well-prepared for the world as any student heading out to the real world these days. If anything, my children are smarter because they don't have distractions like video games or television." "How do you get by without TV?" Harvey asks as if it's a perfectly serious question. "Most TV isn't appropriate for children. So I don't allow it in my home - I have one small TV in my bedroom that I use to watch the news, and that's it. Besides," Marcus pauses as if to say something earth-shattering, "those devices cause cancer, you know." "Yeah, well, what doesn't?" Harvey lets out a long, phlegm-filled cough. "I smoked for 15 years, and if it doesn't kill me, something will. You only have one life. Don't waste it." "I'm not wasting it. I have a good job, a loving wife, a great family, and a safe home." Marcus seems annoyed in his continuing speech. "Plus, I have a great relationship with God, one that I bring my family into. I know where I'm going if something happens to me." "So you believe in all that stuff, I take it." This turns Edward's head as well as Marcus' head. "You don't?" As if he's never met an atheist, Marcus prepares to attack. "No way in hell - not that I believe in hell, either." Of course, terms like 'God,' 'heaven,' 'hell,' and even 'Jesus' are so ingrained in our language that it's hard even for a non-believer to avoid them. "My wife and I made a deal with each other - if one of us died, we would tell the other what the afterlife is like within a month of our death. So far," Harvey looks down at the floor, "Not even so much as a dream about her." "That could be a sign of a serious sleep disorder," Edward argues. "OK, so I don't dream much. I'll grant that. But now one dream in a year and a half about my own wife, the single most important person in my life?" Harvey stares down Marcus, daring him to ask something. "You want to know how she died? Or why I was a total bastard about it?" Marcus stays silent. Edward doesn't. "What was her name?" "Stephanie." Emotionless. "We almost broke up a few times - twice, we were actually separated, and she even took a job offer in Canada. But she couldn't get all the papers pushed through to be a Canadian citizen, so she gave up on that - and we got back together." "Sounds rough." Harvey nods at Edward's words. "I understand it being hard to talk about it, even now." "Not even close. Hell, I find it hard to shut up about her sometimes." Whatever it takes not to bring up his job. Marcus, in a fit of insanity, gets up to leave the room, heading for the living room. As expected, he disinfects the doorknob first on his way out.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 06-18-09, 03:33 PM (EST) 2. "Big Brother: Secret Mission Episode #1 - "Earn Money Sleeping"" ----------------------------------------------------------- Living Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- The bedroom conversation didn't really last that long, for the most part - Marcus was the first out the door, and the uncomfortable silence in the blue room forced even the pleasant Cameron out the door before too long. The only room that had to be prodded out of conversation was the pink room, the one with all the cupcakes and candy. The first to assume a spot in the living room was Marcus, taking a seat in one of the nominee chairs, a pair of plush red chairs with a lot of cushion and large arms. The shorter Marcus seems to be a bit dwarfed by the large chair. Sitting next to him in the other nominee chair is John, the stock trader who has barely uttered a word - not that there was much conversation; a normally shy Ben tried to chat with Cinnamon, but she provided terse answers that told him very little. John, meanwhile, watched in agony, wishing he were in one of the rooms. Yes, boredom was often a way of life in the Big Brother house - but did it have to come so quickly for this fast-paced workaholic? Frustrated, Ben joins the two other men, sitting on one of the blue couches that face the coffee table in the center. The couches need to seat six people apiece - but Ben, carrying that extra weight, worries that there won't be enough room. He appears to be the most overweight member of the house. However, he soon has company - the heaviest of the females takes her spot next to him. Giovanna politely asks if she can sit next to Ben - he agrees. Giovanna reminds him in some ways of his ex-girlfriend - the one he really didn't cheat on. Honest. In his mother's worst nightmare, Ben seems to be joined by yet another woman - Cameron perches next to the gray-shirted shy young man, and seated near her is Valerie, the paramedic. All that sits between Ben and his new Big Brother mom? A skinny, diabetic blonde. Until Jamal takes a seat, that is - right between Cameron and Valerie. More to make sure Taylor doesn't sit next to him - and she doesn't. She opts instead for a seat on the other couch near John. Slowly, Cinnamon rises from the dinner table and walks over to assess the situation - sit next to Valerie or Taylor? The mom of the house or the cute young girl from Mississippi? She stands and thinks for a few minutes while other people file in. Soon enough, the decision is made for her, as Elizabeth takes the spot next to Valerie. Even more uncomfortable for her, Edward has just sat near Taylor, so she's forced to take a spot on the edge of the sofa, hoping someone else will sit next to her on the edge. Preferably someone female. Wish not quite granted, as Harvey pops down next to her, smelling of chewing gum and leather. Well, there are worse things, she thinks, as Jason squeezes in next to Edward. She could have been stuck with Mr. Coffee and Cigarettes - yes, Cinnamon is a smoker, but there's something different about a female smoker, especially one who bleaches - and the final spot is taken by Juanita, who takes the uncomfortable spot between Harvey and Jason. "So," Juanita blurts out, trying to break the ice, "Let's go around the room and introduce ourselves. I'd love to hear something about everyone. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Juanita. I'm 28, and I'm from Tucson, Arizona. I work for the University of Arizona, and it's the greatest job in the world." She bats her eyes at the person to her right, who takes it as a sign to go next. "Harvey," he grunts. "I'm a cop from Chicago." "I'm Lauren," says the strawberry blonde, whose roommates are a bit confused. "I go by Cinnamon. It's my stripper name." "Wait a minute," chimes Ben. "You're a stripper?" "Former stripper," she corrects. "I'm in the adult film industry now." Marcus looks at the woman, somewhat more horrified than when he initially saw her. But it's Elizabeth who gets in the first words. "You're like I was before I came to Christ." "Oh, you mean actually knowing how to have fun?" snipes Cinnamon, not taking anything from the woman in the brown dress. "Life's short, lady--" "Elizabeth," her verbal assailant interjects. "I'm a proud born-again Christian and a good stay-at-home mother to my son." "Thanks for that tip. Maybe next time, you should wait your turn to introduce yourself." Cinnamon coldly stares down Elizabeth, and her nerves make her ache for a cigarette. Like the other smokers in the house, she's had to wait about four hours for a smoke; unlike the others, except maybe Jason, she needs her cigarettes badly. "It was my turn." Well, it's true; she was right after Cinnamon in the rotation. "You had your chance to tell us that you make filth for a living, and now it's my turn to talk about my ministry in Christ." "I don't know what y'all are arguing about," blurts out Valerie in a tone normally used for her children when they act up, "because it's my damn turn. Now shut up and listen. I'm Valerie Landry-Hartman, I'm 41, a paramedic with Austin EMS, and a mother of two children." "So...I don't understand," replies a curious Juanita. "Is Landry your middle name or something?" "Maiden." Valerie's quick and to the point. "I hyphenate just so I have the same last name as my kids, but I really like my maiden name, so I kept them both" "That's Austin as in Austin, Texas, right?" Juanita asks as if it's a question. "I ask because I recognize the name Landry--" "I know what you're asking, and the answer is yes. Third cousins." Juanita meant Tom Landry, of course, the legendary Dallas Cowboys coach and relative of Valerie's. Of course, that didn't necessarily sit well with Juanita. "I've...actually been a bit of a Cowboys hater my entire life." Doesn't seem to faze Valerie. "I grew up in the Bay Area, and the 49ers hated the Cowboys...then when I moved to Arizona, I started rooting for the Cardinals. I watched some pretty bad teams out there in the desert, but at least it was worth it this year." "Don't sweat it, Juanita. I'm actually more into college football. Austin has the Texas Longhorns, and as a lifelong Austin resident, I've grown to love them." Her son Trey dreamed of playing football at the University of Texas, but that's a tale for another day. Soon, it was Jamal's turn to introduce himself. "I'm Jamal, and since the cat's already out of the bag on this one, I'm the same Jamal from the Amazing Race. I lost, but I'm not here to lose again." Valerie looks over her next-seat neighbor and then at Taylor on the other couch - she can't help but notice the "Ole Miss" lapel on Taylor's shirt. "I think we have a bit of a college rivalry here on our hands. Jamal, you play football at Mississippi State?" "No, ma'am," replies Jamal. "I just transferred there. I can't catch a pass or run the ball. I've tried." "Try again at another school," remarks Elizabeth, half-joking. "Problem is, you're going to all these SEC schools, where the talent's too high. Go play at Texas and you might fit in." "Easy, young lady," snipes Valerie. "I know what it's like to be screwed by the BCS. My school should have made it last year, and we didn't." "Because your conference is lousy," chuckles Elizabeth. "And it's not like you could have beaten Florida anyway. Even Texas Tech got killed by an SEC school, and they're supposedly great. Just accept that your team plays in an inferior conference" "You know, for a born-again Christian, you're awfully judgmental and quick to anger over silly things," scolds Valerie, trying to end the conversation. "I'm not angry. I just know I'm right." Elizabeth seems sure of herself at this point. "I'm from the South. SEC football is king, and three national championships in a row don't lie." Sure, two of them were over Ohio State - one with the game starting off on a crippling injury and another with the Buckeyes playing a Charmin-soft schedule - and one was over a team Valerie will swear had no business in the title game. But yes, they did win three national championships in a row. Pay no attention to SEC powerhouse Alabama having their collective hineys handed to them by a mid-major. Moving on now. "I'm Cameron." Not much more out of the blonde. "I'm a recruiter from Annapolis, Maryland. And Juanita, sorry to say, but I'm a Steelers fan." A fact that doesn't make her too popular in parts of Maryland around fans of the Steelers' biggest rival, the Baltimore Ravens. "And in case you're wondering about the screaming outside, that was me. My blood sugar monitor fell to the ground and shattered, and I panicked." Pause. "That's all." "Ben." One word from the overweight young guy. "I'm 24, and if anyone has a good job opening anywhere in the country after this, I'm all ears." "Giovanna," interjects the transplanted Staten Islander. "I'm from Staten Island, but I live in Miami now. I work in a deli." Omitting the fact that she actually owns it. "And Ben, if you're good, maybe I can get you down to Miami to help me out. We'll see what the boss says." The thought of 'We'll actually see what I think' is, of course, not spoken - she wouldn't be the first to employ the 'I'm not a big-shot' strategy. "I'll take it. Do you get a referral bonus? And how cheap are apartments out there in Miami?" Ben almost salivates at the idea. "I'd be about 2,000 miles or so from home." Twenty-one-hundred-plus, actually. But who's counting? "No better or worse than the rest of the country. Actually, it's a hell of a lot cheaper in Miami than in New York." Giovanna biting her tongue about the bargain she got on the building for her deli. "I think it's your turn," continues the New Yorker - unknowingly speaking to the other New Yorker. "I'm a stock trader from New York City. And to be honest," John continues, "I've been here for less than an hour and I've never been so bored in my life." That comment isn't even met with a smile. "So...do you have a name? Or do we just call you...Stock Trader?" Harvey channeling her inner sarcastic SOB. "John Relaford." Flatly, coldly, as if talking to a business associate. He yields the floor. "Marcus," chimes in the gray-haired man in other nominee chair. "I live in Brick, New Jersey, but I'm originally from Connecticut. I'm married, and I have three beautiful children - two sons, aged 17 and 13, and a daughter who's 10. I'm glad I'm not the only one here with kids. That's who I'm playing for." He sighs, putting his head into his hands. "I can only hope they're being safe." "They're probably fine," assures Valerie. "My brother and sister-in-law are watching mine. I trust them. I know you trust your wife." "I do," Marcus replies, somewhat exasperated. "I'm just...always there. I took a corporate job without the risk of business ownership partially to spend more time with them. I've never been more than a day without seeing them." Clearly a man who hasn't traveled much. "I've...honestly not left Brick since we moved, and before that, we didn't leave Connecticut since the children were born." "OK, I'll just come out and ask," fires off Juanita. "Why haven't you traveled?" "It's a dangerous world out there, Juanita." Her facial expression does not change. "I try to be as safe as I can in everything. That's why I became a baby-proofer - so I can practice safety in everything." "There's always some level of danger, you know." The rocket scientist trying to lecture the parent of three. "My mission involves safety, too, but the people who go into space are daring. There's real danger, but no one made any gains without sticking their necks out." "We're just two different people, I suppose." Marcus seems convinced he won't change Juanita's mind. "I'll pass it on." Marcus motions to his right. "Taylor," speaks the somewhat high-pitched black woman as a couple of male players write her off. "I'm Jamal's ex. I never expected to see him here. I go to Ole Miss." With a nod of the head, she yields. "Edward," the words rolling firmly off the attorney's lips. "Ed?" inquires Cinnamon. "No, Edward," corrects the attorney. "Not Ed. Not Eddie. I'm an attorney; it sounds more professional." Without further ado, he passes off to the last speaker. "I'm Jason," he says as he nods. "Carson City, born and raised, and moved up to Reno for the best job in the world when I was 18." "I take it you own a casino or something," inquires a curious Cameron, who wasn't sitting in on the conversation Jason had with Elizabeth. "Better," he retorts, no sarcasm detected. "I do cold call sales." "Oh God, that sounds horrible," recoils Cinnamon. "Most people can't handle the job," replies Jason. "It's hard to get used to, but if you're good with people and have a convincing tone, people will buy from you. And I like the cold calling environment a lot better than any other form of sale because it's the most challenging. Besides," and here comes an evil grin, "if they say no, you don't have to face them. You just move on to the next call. No bad customers can really get to you because they can't do anything." Looking Cinnamon in the eyes. "That makes sense, right?" "OK, I get it," Cinnamon resigns. "I guess I do a bit of the same thing, too, but what I do is harder." "Do go on," interjects Jamal, oblivious to the disgusted look Taylor is giving. "Maybe later," Cinnamon bashfully replies - and then the television screen in front of them changes. The screen doesn't appear to have an edge or a brand name, but it appears to be high-definition, roughly the equivalent of a 46-inch television. The screen warns them that the host will be joining them momentarily. "So on my signal," Elizabeth blurts out, "we all give a rousing 'Hi, Julie!' Does that sound OK?" The housemates agree. However, the person on the screen aborts any plan they had of giving the host a warm, Big Brother welcome. On the screen is a younger man with short blond hair, standing about 5'10" and on the thin side. His eyes are blue, though they're a little too blue to be natural; clearly, those are tinted contact lenses in his eyes. His shirt is a crisp blue that matches his eyes, and the bottom of the screen shows the top of his black slacks. His facial expression indicates as much relaxation as someone can give the first time they meet a captive audience of fourteen - to be shown to that many million people. If we're lucky, that is. "Hey there, houseguests," are his words to the fourteen players. Confusion sets in - where the hell is Julie? - as a few muttered greetings that in no way make up a resounding Big Brother welcome roll off the lips of the contestants. However, one lone voice gives out a resounding greeting to the new host. Heads turn as one lone female voice blurts out, "Hi, Rex!" First to Taylor, who gives a 'Who, me?' look back. Then to Juanita, who appears as confused as everyone else. Then over to Cinnamon, who finally cracks a smile. The host solves the mystery quickly, but appears to be none too thrilled about the person who greeted him by name. "Hi, Juanita." As if apologizing for breaking his brother's favorite toy when he felt justified in doing so. He doesn't miss a beat after that initial response. "For those who don't know me, my name is Rex Majors. I'll be your host this season." This time, the houseguests get it right - a ore resounding "Hi, Rex!" in near-perfect unison. Clearly, a couple of male voices were out of sync. Now it's Rex's turn. "The fourteen of you are going to be here all summer long, or at least until your housemates decide to evict you. While you're here, you'll be competing for food, luxuries, and power. as well as the ability to control your own destiny. It won't be easy, but at the end of the season, one of you will be voted the winner of Big Brother. Now..." The pause between the word 'now' and the remainder of Rex's speech seems interminable - and as he prepares to speak, all eyes not focused on Rex are focused on Juanita, the only person to get Rex's name correct before he announced it. It helps when you were the host's high school sweetheart - but who really needs to know that? "...you will be invited one by one to the Diary Room to be briefed on the nature of the first twist in the game. After that, I'll call you out to the backyard for the first competition of the season." There's a certain finality in Rex's voice. "I'll be talking to you shortly." The screen fades to the Big Brother logo - the typical Big Brother insignia with the house icon to the right, only without a number next to it. Soon, the logo changes - and in place of a number, an olive-drab phrase appears across the house icon. Looking closely, the two words, written in a military style as if they would appear on a soldier's uniform, are "SECRET MISSION". Half the house appears to disperse, heading either for the bathroom, their bedrooms, or the kitchen, while Cinnamon and Jason head for what appears to be the back door, only to see that it will not open. Frustrated, Cinnamon marches toward the pantry, declaring loudly that she needs a stick of gum. The voice on the loudspeaker is the same one who instructed the houseguests to enter - "Giovanna, please come to the Diary Room." Giovanna turns and heads for the diary room as the rest of the house continues to disperse. ----------------------------------------------------------- Blog Entry, 7/7/2009 Authored by: Rex Majors, stillaliveandkicking ----------------------------------------------------------- I'm the kingpin, it looks like. I know John de Mol and Allison Grodner took a huge gamble on having me in as the host - apparently, when Meredith Vieira turned down the job, they decided to go in a bit of a different direction - and now I'm beginning to understand why. I'm a bit more of an open book. Also, Meredith's married with children, so the next stunt I'm about to pull wouldn't work with her. ABC actually contacted me about appearing on The Bachelor - as the actual bachelor, not as a suitor for a bachelorette. Sure, the whole mess with Jason Mesnick was great for ratings and drama, but my response was still the same, even after being offered a ton of money to do it: "You've got to be kidding me." I wasn't even remotely interested - and neither was my cousin Rick, who's the only other Majors man on the market. I gave ABC Rick's number - he turned them down. Still not over Janet, I assume. Still in a bitter divorce situation that's gone from bad to worse and then even worse still. I made the mistake of blurting out to Rick that his newborn son Cade was, in fact, not his - eye color doesn't lie. But I was right - DNA confirmed it, and Janet knew who the father was. Apparently she had been having an affair with him for a little over a year and had promised to leave Rick for him in due time - and to think, I always thought it was the guys who pulled this lie - except Janet, thanks to my big yapper, actually gets to make good on this promise. And while they're off getting married, he can raise another illegitimate child - Rick's 2-year-old daughter Marla is, in fact, not his daughter; yet another man fathered her. Should have guessed. I'm not sure who's more miserable, me or him. I do know who has a chance to make a big change without being dragged from work to divorce court to work to home for a two-hour nap before going into a long, demanding day of work and divorce court. Carrie and I weren't married or even making plans for it, so I wasn't even entitled to any of her assets; her mom got all those as the closest living relative. That made things a lot simpler. So today I walked into the new assistant producer's office - I guess things really have changed a lot since Julie's been gone. That and the head honchos are working on some kind of other project that's taking up their time, so they're leaving the dirty work to this new guy. He has the whole big-shot office set up - a receptionist, a water cooler, and some really nice chairs. Everything's brand new. Impressed, I walk up to the receptionist, needing to look up the producer's name on the scrap paper I brought - and here it is. Dorian Litchfield. I ask for him. "I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Litchfield's in a meeting. Is there anything I can help with?" Red-haired, early 20s, designer glasses, and a really nice wardrobe. She has a nice smile and immediately snaps into reality. "Wait a second. Rex Majors, right? The new host?" That's me. "Mr. Litchfield was expecting to brief you on this, but since he's busy, he asked me to do it." She takes out a manila folder with some papers and what might be photos in it. "Here, you go, Mr. Majors--" "Rex," I correct. I know I've aged a lot since Carrie's death, but I can't possibly look that old, can I? Anyway, I sit down and thumb through them, and just as I expect, there are ten women who have decided they're interested in me. Actually, there were a lot more, but I made a few cuts based on my own preferences - 18 and over only, no smokers or drug users, and I'm attracted to intelligence. Little things like race, body type, and hair color are unimportant. I knew who was up first - and who was out first. And indeed, she was listed first. Juanita Andujar, formerly Juanita Morales. My best friend, my high school sweetheart, and the woman I knew I would marry - until she left for college, and suddenly I wasn't enough. I promised to talk to her every day and bought a phone card just for the occasion - 1000 minutes I anticipated refilling in about two weeks. I still have the card - and it had about 900 minutes on it. My impression of her from the picture is...well, it's her cast photo. She's still incredibly beautiful and vibrant, even if years of work as an astrophysicist (she prefers the term "rocket scientist" just to show off, but the hell with her) haven't taken their toll on her good looks. So tempting. Yet I know I'm like a dog lusting after a bar of sweet Godiva. She'll kill me if I let her. "Oh, by the way, Mr.--Rex," the redhead says, correcting herself. I guess I'll settle for Mr. Rex if she insists; I'm not as stubborn as Miss Julie on that matter. "They wanted me to tell you about the special rule with Juanita. You can't actually cut her until she's out of the Big Brother house." Right. Not that I need to make a mental note or anything. When she's gone, she's gone. In fact, I think I'll work on my goodbye letter to her right now - or rather, when I finish perusing the other files. Second up is the other person I actually know - the lovely Jasmine Dominguez. I met Jasmine when she rented a room in my longtime friend Dixie's apartment, and she took a liking to me right away, and not just because we both love pool, good beer, and the Sharks. I lost count of all the times she's hit on me, and all the times I've had to turn her down politely - yes, most guys would have been OK with an open relationship, would have been thrilled with having a girlfriend who looked like Carrie, and would have been beyond ecstatic with a chance to play around with Jasmine on the side. I'll put it this way - Jasmine is gorgeous. I say that because I'm always one for understatement - she's like a 25-year-old Carrie. I just started talking to her again a few weeks before Carrie's death; she was furious at me before that. She and Carrie arranged a little birthday surprise for me, and it helped that my birthday was on a Friday in 2008. I'll put it this way - two beautiful ladies, one lucky guy. Again, understatement. And it fell through - I went home sick on my birthday with food poisoning and wasn't even in the mood to talk, let alone let my girlfriend and a beautiful friend have their way with me. Jasmine tried to reschedule - and I called the whole thing off altogether because she was being the pushy one. It turns out Jasmine wasn't just interested in me that night. A fact that Jasmine's very open about - she's bisexual. In fact, she's dated girls and enjoyed it. I got out of the threesome with that revelation to Carrie, who was 100% straight, thank you very much, and Jasmine read me the Riot Act over it. We exchanged maybe eight words over the next two months before Dixie intervened and forced us to make up - and I'm glad she did. Producers see her as a bit of a front-runner here, and for good reason - if I'm just looking to replace Carrie, I'll date Jasmine. She's a knockout, she's smart as a whip, she has a million things in common with me, and, unlike Carrie, she can talk dirty in Spanish and sound sexy doing it. There's just the little matter of having to keep my eye on the entire adult population to make sure they keep their mitts off my girl...with Carrie, I only had to worry about one half of it, since the other half wouldn't be reciprocated. The other reason she's not going to run away with this - she's lacking in the number-one sexiest category on anyone. I'm referring, of course, to confidence - she's a bit of a panicker. She never thinks she's as good as she is, and damned if she hasn't stayed up all night a few dozen times revising her Ph.D. thesis on the Sanskrit-based language system. Honestly, Jasmine, it was perfect the first time. And the second and third. Give it a rest and go back to singing in the shower - the one place where she will sing. Brilliantly, I might add. But good luck getting her to try out for American Idol or even that show with Hasselhoff. Hell, getting her to sing in front of an audience of one half-asleep Maine Coon is hard enough. If it were as simple as turning Jasmine into a glowing, confident woman, I'd write my letter to Juanita, hand it to her when she left the house, and start dating Jasmine publicly. But it's not - and eight other women are here to prove me wrong. Some look like they're going to do a pretty good job of it. And then there's Madison Hightower, who sent me a picture of her with all her stats - 5'2", blonde/blue, cute as a button, and all dolled up even to go into the kitchen to make herself a snack, assuming she ever eats. Every girl I've dated has had at least a little meat on her bones, and they would all, at least, eat something. Hell, Carrie ordered a steak and baked potato on our first date and wasn't shy about it; Madison looks, and sounds, like the kind of girl who wouldn't even nibble on a steak. I hate to say it, but she looks like an early casualty, especially since her letter to me says she's going to "change my mind about white women." I haven't been this confused about a comment since...well, ever. What is there to change? Yes, my last two long-term relationships were with black women. Probably why they chose Ingrid Thompson, who's the exact opposite of Madison and not shy about it - taller, much heavier, and much darker-skinned. Both come from L.A. and that's about where the similarities end. For one thing, Madison just graduated from high school - and Ingrid's older than me by three years. And still not the oldest person in the contest. That honor goes to Jeanette Martin, a redhead with a son who's actually a year older than me. Wow, that'll be an interesting conversation - she's been divorced for 26 years and never had a long enough relationship to consider marriage since then. Apparently, it's hard to date as a single mom, and it's harder when the only people she's been with are just after her for...well, whatever it is some guys are after in an older woman. One little flaw with Jeanette - she doesn't list her age, as if she's hiding it. Litchfield's secretary looked it up for me - she's 55, and she looks incredible for her age. Her letter to me was very well-written, and she used a nice piece of stationery; her picture reminds me a bit of Renny from the previous season of Big Brother, except Jeanette's clearly taller. I don't know if they listed the profiles and letters in any particular order; after reading a letter from my next potential suitor, a 21-year-old UCLA student named Yuki Yamamoto, I'm not sure. Six people in, and we've covered about every ethnic background one can think of, including half-black/half-Latina, a.k.a. Jasmine the Knockout. Well, at least we've covered the ones Survivor thought of. Take it back - Litchfield one-upped Mark Burnett in the diversity department. Enter Shilpa Kalra, an exchange student from rural India. Apparently she left home to delay an arranged marriage, trying to clear her head and decide if she wants to return home to her waiting husband or life a new life in America. Ah, the age-old conflict of wanting to please your family but wanting to be free. So many pick the former, and some are happy - but so few are so definitively right for all the wrong reasons. Hopefully Shilpa didn't almost marry her half-brother. Maybe she should talk to Rick, too - see how he feels about pleasing his family instead of being happy. But I digress. It looks like about a 50/50 chance of her even being interested in the position of Rex's arm candy. "Oh, and one more thing I forgot. Have you gotten to Marta's profile yet?" I tell the secretary I haven't - then I turn the page, and there she is. Marta Salazar, a fan of Carrie's who actually spotted her in Rio. Turns out she plays soccer for a living. Must be nice. Wonder where there's much of a market for that, at least as far as women's soccer goes. "You'll need this. And this." She hands me a laptop - tells me it's mine to use as I see fit, just don't ruin it - and a webcam. Naturally, I have to ask--but she cuts me off. "Marta has the same thing." "Why?" Fair question. "Because," she smiles, "she's in Brazil." Of course - Portuguese-sounding name. Plays soccer for a living. Has a dynamite body. According to her profile, she's 22 and has been playing soccer since she was a little girl. She sent a Web video - I never opened it, just sent it to CBS - and I am told she seemed to struggle a bit with the English language, which is a third language to her. She'll be happy to know I speak Spanish, her second language. She has a trip scheduled to the U.S. for an exhibition soccer match with the U.S. women's national team, so I'll be seeing her the third weekend in August. Good - I can't stop staring at her. She's...well, mind-blowing. She's biracial; I can tell by looking at her - black father, white mother, not too uncommon in Brazil, from what I hear. She's a lot more athletic than I'm used to dating. I just hope I can keep up with her. She looks like a lot of fun. It's just...the distance. Yes, I can webcam with her whenever I feel like it, but I'm in L.A. and she's in Sao Paulo. It's not even the same time there as it is here - it's five hours ahead where she is. Good thing she's a self-described night owl. Not like Chrissy Pittman, whose profile photo appears to have been shot at sunrise. She seems bright, happy, and chipper - and right here in the L.A. area, too, like everyone else except for Marta. Jasmine's here on an internship after finishing up her Ph.D. at UC-Berkeley - apparently, she has a nice life ahead of her as a linguistics professor and researcher at Berkeley, which she says she'll give up in a heartbeat to be with me. Chrissy, on the other hand, is bartending and working as an office assistant, saying she wants to go back to school and become...she didn't say what. She left nursing school. She didn't even start accounting school. She doesn't seem like she's finished a whole lot in her life, except her last relationship. Great - I've found the person who's going to stick around because she won't give me a reason to cut her. Maybe she'll change my mind. Maybe I should stop being so cynical. Or maybe I should be exactly that cynical times a dozen - they're trying to torture me. I knew it, and I've confirmed it. I'm the smartest man in the world, or something like it - I've figured out Dorian Litchfield, and he doesn't even know it. I've made my first cut. And it's not even her fault. It's her parents' fault. Or rather, the producers' fault - for putting in a girl with the same name as my dead girlfriend. She just had to be named Carrie, didn't she? She's beautiful; I'll grant that - a vivacious brunette with a perfect smile - but the damn name. I asked the producers if they knew her middle name - and in an act of complete torture, it's Michelle. Also my Carrie's middle name. I wouldn't be surprised at this point to find out - well, at least she has a different last name. New Carrie's last name is Boston - a B name like my Carrie's. I can't cut her without meeting her. But I can't...well, at least I wouldn't have to learn a new name, says the pig side of me. "When do I meet these ladies?" I ask the stunning redhead, who could probably be Jeanette's studious daughter if she had one. "Oh, we scheduled you ten nights in a row to meet them. You'll meet all of them before the first live show next Thursday." A note of confusion on my behalf to counteract her oblivious certainty. "So wait--does that mean my first date is..." And then my cell phone rings. She nods, allowing me to answer it. The voice on the other end is familiar. "Rex. It's Jasmine. What the hell took you so long?" Maybe the fact that I've been learning about my cast, not about ten women who have some desire to be Mrs. Rex Majors, or at least get a cheap thrill. "I just got back in town yesterday. Maybe tonight I can come to your place and rock your world?" "Jasmine, I--" "Dinner?" "Yes, dinner sounds fine." Stumbling over my words. "My treat. You thinking seafood?" I wrap up the conversation and make reservations at a nice place in town - dinner for two. "Take this," the redhead tells me. She gives me a credit card with my name on it - well, the one people know me by. My debit card say "Kenneth C. Majors III" - I've had one credit card in my life and canceled it two years ago. This one has me listed as Rex Majors. "I hope you don't really expect that girl to pay for dinner. Use this for any expenses you have that are show-related." I guess that means I'm having lobster tonight. "I suppose I should ask," I interject. "Why are you being so nice to me? Did Julie get the same treatment?" "Well, she was the boss's wife, so she got the VIP treatment." Figures. "Besides, we know how hard this has been on you, and we know this will make for something good for both you and us, so we're willing to do it." I put my head in my hands. "Sometimes I feel, though...just like..." "It's hard to move on from a woman like Carrie." I take it you would know. Well, maybe you would. "Especially when your family was as terrible to her as they were--" "That's not true, and I've made that clear." Jumping into defensive mode. "My family was great to her except for my bastard uncle and my racist cousin. My parents treated her like royalty, and she knew it. The worst part is..." And this is where it starts to hurt. "...it's my fault she's dead. If I had just kept my damn mouth shut about Rick's wife being a cheater until after the ceremony and told him privately." "OK, a funeral wasn't the best place to tell him news like that." Thank you, Captain Obvious. "But your cousin didn't have to pull a gun. He didn't have to join the Ku Klux Klan." Aryan Brotherhood, actually. Just a different brand of jerk. "And your uncle didn't have to lie about being a racist just to cover up an affair." Figures. Just like the preacher who denounces gays being caught with a male lover, Uncle Larry's caught with a black lover. "You can't blame yourself for this, Rex. Nothing is that black-and-white." She looks me straight in the eyes. "It's all gray as far as the eyes can see." A new tone to her voice now. "Now go enjoy dinner; I know Jasmine's looking forward to it." That's probably not all she's looking forward to, and I'll see how I feel about that later tonight.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 06-18-09, 03:34 PM (EST) 3. "Big Brother: Secret Mission Episode #1 - "Earn Money Sleeping"" ----------------------------------------------------------- Backyard, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- The familiar voice prompts the houseguests, now in the backyard, to draw tokens once again; this time, the reason is obvious - a team competition is about to begin, one designed to look almost like the set of American Gladiators. Right down to the red-and-blue jousting platforms, the tug-of-war ring, and the steal-the-bacon ring with the football inside. Everyone lines up, token in hand, and separates into two teams - one red, one blue, as is the case so often in Big Brother - and begins fitting themselves for equipment. On the red side, Elizabeth, Harvey, Jamal, Jason, John, Marcus, and Valerie fit themselves for helmets; wearing blue are Ben, Cameron, Cinnamon, Edward, Giovanna, Juanita, and Taylor. On the red side, Marcus nervously looks over his opposition - at least there's no clear alpha males on the other team, with the possible exception of Edward, who looks like he'd rather be wearing anything else than the form-fitting garment that is provided for the challenge. Like Jason, he wore a tie into the house, and if he had his way, he probably wouldn't take it off. "Is everyone ready for the challenge?" Rex's voice booms over the loudspeaker. "Yes, Rex." Each team in their own unison, which sounds somewhat disjointed. "OK. I'll explain the challenge. You'll be playing head-to-head against members of the opposing team. In the first round, each player will joust, with the last person standing moving on. You can't step across the platforms, or you're out. Those who win will play in the next round, which is tug-of-war. The third round is steal the bacon, and only those who survive Round Two will play. After that, the games will be determined at random until one team is eliminated." Both teams seem to hang on Rex's every word. "This competition is for food - the winners will eat food for the week, while the losers will eat slop." The horror is apparent on some faces - sure, slop had been a staple of Big Brother for four seasons, but only the threat of actually being forced to eat it could bring out a sense of urgency in the houseguests. The need is especially apparent for Cameron, who remembers Amanda's hypoglycemic attack from Season 9 all too well; as a diabetic, she's entitled to a moderate amount of foul-tasting sugar water daily if she's on slop, but it's almost more worth it to suffer. "Also," Rex continues, "there's another part to the challenge. Hidden throughout the house are three silver stars. Anyone left from the winning team who was not eliminated will run through the house looking for them. Each star is worth a prize. One of the prizes is the chance to be the game's first Head of Household. The other two possibilities will be given when one of you has a star in hand. Regarding the challenge, do you have any questions?" No one does. "You have two minutes to strategize and pick an order." Up first for the read team is Jamal, and up for the blue team is Taylor - five females are on the blue team, and with Taylor giving up almost a foot of height to Jamal, the blue team feels a bit overmatched. "Players, are you ready?" Both Jamal and Taylor raise their pugil sticks. "Fight!" Taylor swings her stick at Jamal, missing him completely as he steps back. Jamal, in response to Taylor flailing her stick wildly, swings hard at Taylor's upper back. Taylor tumbles forward, losing her balance and trying to balance on Jamal's platform, but it falls out of her hands and she tumbles to the mats below. Above her, Jamal throws up his pugil stick and lets out a mad war cry, having slain his arch-nemesis and pushed her one step closer to eating slop for the week. As Jamal receives high-fives and fist-pounds from his teammates, next to take the stage is Jason for the red team and Giovanna for the blue team. Both competing for something important - Jason desiring coffee for the week and Giovanna beer - the two face off, staring each other down. Giovanna, however, looks at Jason with a killer instinct, sensing Jason's weakness - just from the climb, he's winded. A three-pack-a-day habit takes the wind out of his sails, and though Giovanna has her weaknesses - she fills out that skin-tight outfit much better than Jason does, for one thing - at least she doesn't have that one. Rex signals the start of the fight, and Giovanna swings at Jason, exacting revenge for Taylor - like Giovanna's teammate, Jason goes down like a ton of bricks, hoping to get out of this outfit and immediately go have a smoke. Jason gets half his wish, mumbling about how he wouldn't be caught dead in that outfit as he lights up a Newport on the sideline, hoping Harvey, the next jouster for the team, can handle Cinnamon, who tosses back her strawberry-blonde locks and stares down the man who has his eye on her in more way than one. "I wish I didn't have to beat you up. You're beautiful." A cocky Harvey stares down an unfazed Cinnamon, who takes the starting message from Rex as an invitation to wail on Harvey. Slightly distracted, Harvey can't seem to land a shot on his opponent, who attacks mostly his sides and his stomach. A quick learner, Harvey crouches down and covers his torso while Cinnamon immediately changes tactics, clubbing him over the head. Trying to duck, Harvey begins to lose his balance, and he steps forward, tackling Cinnamon and taking her down to the mats with him. Lying on top of the ex-stripper, he stares lustfully at her through both their facemasks as she silently thanks the powers that be that her breasts stayed in her top. Yes, Cinnamon was an exhibitionist and had planned to play half the game in the buff, but being this close to a gruff-looking man who wanted nothing more than to get into her pants was a bit of a sticky situation. "Can't...breathe," Cinnamon manages as Harvey finally gets off her. "Let's do it again sometime, shall we?" asks the defeated cop. "No," she coldly replies. "Let's not. Let's just be clear about something, you disgusting pig--" "Actually, Cinnamon," he interrupts, "my name's Harvey, and that's what you can call me, OK?" In the background, Jason looks at Harvey proudly - insisting on addressing one's opposite strictly on a first-name basis is a means of people in his business of leveling the playing field. Those who simply call him "sir" aren't really listening, the way he sees it, and those who insist on a diminutive nickname, like "son" for "sweetie" as many of his female clients call him, aren't really taking him seriously. Cinnamon storms off, unable to deal with the annoyance that is Harvey, and he sits down next to Jason and takes out a pack of his own - of chewing gum. Gum isn't expressly forbidden on the slop diet, since it doesn't count as food any more than cigarettes do. Noticeably, Harvey’s at a bit of a distance from Jason, if only to avoid breathing in Jason's smoke. Taking the platforms next for the teams are John and Edward, neither of whom looks particularly comfortable. Clearly, the competitions are going toward the females, or at least the ones that involve dressing in costume or uniform do. Rex signals the start of the match, and neither seems to be landing too many blows. It's not for lack of trying, but it almost seems that first person to run out of steam will lose. In fact, both seem to be targeting the pugil stick more than the opponent, and a lucky blow by Edward knocks the stick out of John's hands, ending the match - by American Gladiators rules, players must have both hands on the stick in order to avoid disqualification; Big Brother loosened that rule to one hand, but a defenseless John jumps down and slinks back into solitude, avoiding those trying to cheer him up. Down three players, the red team psyches up Valerie, who steps up to fight Juanita, desperately needing a victory that the male members of the red team couldn't provide - in four inter-gender matches, the blue team's females came out on top 2-1, with Edward's defeat of John putting the red team in a tight spot. Rex signals the start of the match, secretly hoping to see Juanita pummeled - and getting his wish, as Valerie strikes quickly and batters Juanita about the face. A dizzied Juanita tries to fight back, but the strong, powerful Valerie, with her low center of gravity, shoves Juanita off the platform with little effort; the defeated rocket scientist plummets to the mats below, never having a chance. Juanita shakes off her defeat and turns to teammate Cinnamon and says, "If you're anything like you were against Harvey in the next round, you're our only hope. She's good. She's damn good." Cinnamon smirks, still wearing her helmet. As she does, Cameron climbs the joust platform, with Cameron's eyes following the petite blonde. Opposite Cameron, the nervous diabetic, stands Elizabeth, who seems uncomfortable in the form-fitting leotard provided by the show. But at least it's not, say, a bikini or a midriff-baring shirt like the ones she remembers from her younger days - the ones where she hadn't yet come to Christ. If she is wondering about Christ's involvement in the contest, though, she doesn't show it, as she batters Cameron in an un-Christian-like beat down. Her weight advantage seems to be inconsequential compared to her confidence advantage, as Cameron falls to the mats and the score is tied at three wins apiece thanks to the red team's only two females. Last to take the stage are the two most nervous contestants, at least as far as the men go; it's hard to argue that Cameron isn't more nervous than Ben, whose main concern seems to be fitting the spandex over his belly. With nothing else to do in his twenties, Ben recalls having seen reruns of American Gladiators and studying the technique of the great ones - Gemini, Thunder, and his personal favorite from the new version - Crush. He always wondered what his mother worried about with him - at least he's straight. Heaven forbid he be anything else. Opposite him, Marcus stands, completely unprepared to fight, so when Rex gives the starting signal, Marcus is far from ready for an onslaught that Ben is prepared to deliver. To show it, Marcus takes his hands off his pugil stick - and it drops to the mats below. By rule, he's disqualified, and a frustrated Ben throws his pugil stick down, hoping for a chance to fight. At least he can take a dive off the platform - and he does, doing a cannonball onto the mats. By contrast, Marcus is climbing down the platform carefully, afraid to fall and even using every step down. On the red team, the victorious Jamal, Valerie, and Elizabeth gather around the tug-of-war ring, facing down Giovanna, Cinnamon, Edward, and Ben. The blue team, knowing that only three of them have to play in this round, volunteer Edward to sit out, and he doesn't volunteer an objection. First to take the ring for the red team is Jamal; Ben, fresh off an easy win over Marcus, decides to go first. All the players had to do in order to win was move the flag four feet in their direction; Jamal points out that the flag is red, the color of his team - also the color of his university, Mississippi State. Well, his school is actually maroon, and arch-rival Ole Miss has more actual red, but who's counting? Rex gives the sign for the two to begin, and Ben simply leans back, hoping to drag the lighter Jamal across the line with his weight. Slowly but surely, it appears to be working, as Jamal begins to lose ground inch by inch. By rule, if 60 seconds pass and no one's won, whoever's closer wins, but Ben makes that unnecessary as he pulls Jamal across the line, receiving a fist-pound from teammate Giovanna, who's up next to take on the tough Valerie. Again, the edge goes to the heavy player, as Valerie forces the lighter Giovanna back. Sure, the Italian from New York always considered herself curvy, but she's outweighed significantly by the EMT from Texas who lives off fried chicken. Giovanna fights back, stepping hard into the ground, but she only prolongs defeat, failing to reclaim any of the two feet or so Valerie gained. In a deadlock, Valerie ties the score at one-all for the tug-o-war round, setting up a grudge match for the rubber match, with a lot on the line. If Cinnamon beats Elizabeth, the blue team has only Valerie to beat, still a tall order; should Cinnamon fail, the score's tied, making it anybody's game. Matter steps into the tug-of-war arena against anti-matter; the born-again Christian, minister's wife, and mother of a boy named for a Kirk Cameron character stands and stares down the voluptuous adult film actress who hasn't yet shared with her housemates that she's, in fact, a lesbian. Might as well wait to burst Harvey's bubble until later and watch Elizabeth’s head explode at some other time. Elizabeth proves to be weak competition for the stronger Cinnamon, who, despite being a heavy smoker, doesn't seem to be running out of breath in her tug-of-war with her arch-rival. Of course, Elizabeth folds like a house of cards, taking only a few seconds to come across the line and give victory to the surprise star of the game. "OK, I have to ask," inquires a curious Cameron. "How the hell are you so good at this?" Beating Elizabeth is one thing, but taking down the tall, gruesome Harvey in a joust? Even the leggy Cinnamon gave up a few inches to the cold cop. "What? You've never seen a field day at an adult film gathering?" As if everyone under the sun had. “In my brand of adult films, we get together a few times a year and play games like this just to blow off steam and see if it turns into anything we can put on our sites. I really wanted the trophy last year, so I got good." What she isn't telling Cameron is that she actually lost the trophy in a joust-off with a curvaceous rising star named Candy. The other part of that story? That's the same Candy who's Cinnamon's current squeeze. So she got the trophy another way. Valerie, now all alone for the red team, prepares to face off against Edward, who had no idea what the hell he was doing in the joust. As Rex gives the signal, the two competitors stand waiting for the other to make a move. If the player grabbing the ball gets it outside the larger circle, about 20 feet in diameter, they win; if the other player yanks a flag off their belt, of which each player is wearing four, they win. Valerie can taste the fried chicken she'll be making when she wins the challenge for her team, wondering what she'll pick as her prize in the second part of the challenge. As she does this thinking, Edward makes a mad dash into the ring, looking to scoop up the football - and unlike his weak performance earlier, he's successful. As he grabs the ball, he rolls, and Valerie takes a swipe at him, thinking she has a flag - but coming up empty. Unable to turn around, she watches as Edward scampers past her to the outside circle, where he tosses the ball in the air and runs over to his teammates to celebrate the victory. Valerie, certain of her win in this battle, now must prepare her taste buds for the horror that is slop. Marcus, however, prepares himself for a long week without eating - who knows what the producers put in slop? Soon enough, Ben, Cinnamon, and Edward all gather themselves near the front entrance; Cinnamon sure could use a cigarette, and watching Jason and Jamal enjoy a smoke only makes the cravings worse. But she could smoke when she earns Head of Household or whatever that other two prizes are - and Rex is kind enough to explain. "As you know, one of the three of you will be the first Head of Household. The first person to find a star will have his or her choice of prizes. Your other choices are also good ones - you can choose two slop passes, but there's a catch. You can only keep one." Confusion sets in. "The other must be given away." Fair enough. "The other prize is this season's first twist - the Mystery Prize. You won't know what the prize is until after you win it, and for the first Mystery Prize, only the winner will know what it is." Truly a Mystery Prize indeed. "When the doors open, I will count down from three. When I say go, you run into the house and search high and low for the stars. When someone finds one, I will tell everyone to stop for a moment while the finder picks a prize. Now let's begin the competition." The doors open, revealing the inside of the house. "Three, two one, go!" Rex's words signal the beginning of the challenge for the anxious players, and Cinnamon finally loses a step after dominating the challenge before. Edward has the fastest step of all, with Ben lugging himself behind. Edward dashes up the circular staircase, while Ben tears up the living room and Cinnamon the kitchen. Pots and pans fly everywhere as an anxious Cinnamon looks to make quick work of the challenge; Ben instead contends with the couches and Edward comes up empty. Rex watches the entire house frantically - the hosting job still a bit new to him - so he doesn't notice for a few seconds as someone shouts, "I got one!" A male voice - assumed a younger man - accompanies a person holding a silver star about six inches in diameter up toward the camera. Finally, Rex gets it right. "Everyone, stop searching." Edward freezes in his tracks; Cinnamon tosses another pan before stopping. "Ben, you have first choice of prizes. You can pick Head of Household, the slop passes, or the Mystery Prize. I'll give you a minute to decide." With his hand over his chin, Ben thinks, slightly out loud, mouthing the words "on the other hand" at least twice. But he nears the end of the decision-making period. "I need an answer, Ben." Forced to give an answer, Ben blurts out, "The slop passes." Edward has to brace himself from the shock of Ben's decision, but Cinnamon merely smirks, waiting to find another star and take the Head of Household for herself. Rex signals for the other two to continue searching, and they do, with Edward heading back downstairs and heading for his bedroom, looking mainly in plain sight. Cinnamon, however, heads for the bath area, making a beeline for the toilet on a hunch. The hunch proves true, as the star sits on the back of the toilet. "I found it!" shouts an exuberant Cinnamon, showing the camera her find. "I'll take HoH, thank you." Rex's turn. "Cinnamon, you said you want Head of Household?" She confirms it. "Edward, you can stop searching; you earned the Mystery Prize, which you will be briefed about in the Diary Room. Cinnamon, congratulations; you are the game's first Head of Household." Rex pauses for the houseguests to applaud for Cinnamon, who accepts an exuberant hug from Cameron and Giovanna. "Ben, you have the slop passes; you can use yours whenever you need to, and you have 24 hours to decide who's getting the other one." As the houseguests gather around Cinnamon in any attempt to curry favor, with the exception of a bitter Elizabeth, a contact-shy Marcus, and a bored John, Rex continues to speak. "Edward, I'll need you to come to the diary room immediately. It's about the Mystery Prize." Edward, still scratching his head over the location of the other star, marches toward the Diary Room. "Also, for the curious, the final star was in the food pantry hidden among the slop buckets." Cinnamon's entourage follows her out to the backyard as she takes a seat on the furniture for her first cigarette in almost six hours. Meanwhile, John wanders toward a room, wondering where he's going to sleep, since he hand Ben are displaced for the week. ----------------------------------------------------------- Blog Entry, 7/7/2009 Authored by: Rex Majors, stillaliveandkicking ----------------------------------------------------------- Soon enough, I'll have some reflections on the cast, but for now I'm concentrating on last night's date. I have to meet ten women who want to impress me in the next ten nights, and next Thursday's live show counts as my first night "off." Well, at least they're paying for my meals; I can't argue with that. Besides, I got to try this new seafood place here in L.A. after months of eating TV dinners and Ramen noodles for dinner - assuming I felt good enough to eat at all. So many nights I stared at Carrie's picture wishing I could see her again and could forget about this whole stupid contest, but knowing she's on the other side now, I have no choice but to move on. At least the first date was an easy one - and so I wouldn't have to worry about getting my car home, I decided to take the subway to this place and wait for Jasmine. And even if I was concerned about spending too much of CBS' money on dinner (but who am I kidding; they recommended the place) I decided I couldn't let it show. I have to loosen up. A tense, uptight Rex gets nowhere. Fortunately, it's a Monday, so reservations aren't exactly needed; I can just wait outside the restaurant for Jasmine. Soon enough, she pulls up a little too fast in her hot little Mazda Miata - painted black, her favorite color - and I get to watch the most amazing thing ever. The driver's door opens, and I look over my date. Already a tall, exotic beauty, she's gone all-out for tonight, and it shows. A form-fitting black sweater she bought just for the occasion that shows off her bust and fits her perfectly, and as my eyes work their way down her, I get an eyeful of her dark-blue jeans that cover her delicious hips. She flicks her hair back - straight but full-bodied and a deep black, curled at the ends - and she seductively closes her car door with her butt and steps toward me in her brand-new black boots (she's 6'1" so she didn't feel the need to go with heels.) As she walks toward me with that sexy smile on her face, there's only one word that comes to mind as I watch her: damn. I don't think I've ever seen anything this sexy in my life. Her entrance here was so hot, it should have been accompanied by background music - I'm thinking "Rock You Like a Hurricane" by Scorpions, which, coincidentally, is one of Jasmine's favorites as well as one of mine. She walks up to me and wraps her arms around me, giving me a kiss right on the lips; fortunately, she's wearing smear-proof lipstick, not that I'd mind for a second being covered in that shade of strawberry-red that looks so damn perfect on her. I've never seen anything sexier. "I missed you so much" is all I could muster. I kiss her back on the lips, almost ready to throw caution to the wind. I feel like I should be a little more reserved - sure, if Jasmine had her way, she'd toss everything off our table and have her way with me, and I'm about ready to let her - but I just don't want to. I have so much in mind for my gorgeous friend...more than just a friend. I'm ashamed I haven't seen her since Carrie's funeral. She holds my hand on the way in, smiling like a schoolgirls - I've never understood quite what she sees in me, but I never understood what Carrie saw in me either - and as the waitress seats us, my eyes are fixated on Jasmine. Again...damn. It bears repeating. "If you don't mind me saying, Jasmine..." Almost pausing to catch my breath. "You look hot." "Thanks, handsome." Still can't take my eyes off her - she tells me the waitress is really attractive, but the waitress could be Godzilla and I wouldn't notice. "So I don't get it - Big Brother's setting you up with a bunch of women? Why are they doing this?" "It's a web series. CBS.com exclusive, I guess. The live feed subscribers get it. It's probably just a way of attracting female viewers." Because they have Cinnamon and Giovanna to rope in the male viewers. I hang on Jasmine's every word - as if I'm meeting her for the first time and she's some kind of Italian supermodel. If I were wondering anything, it would undoubtedly be why I'm even doing this contest. And she's ready to answer that by dessert - New York cheesecake for me and Key Lime pie for my lady. "Why don't you just tell those people you're out of the competition and just start dating me?" I pretty much want to at this point - if Jasmine makes love anything like she eats that pie, she can have me anytime and any place. She's unpredictable enough that I'm not sure if she'd tear my clothes off or make a crack about eating pie. "I have an idea." I can almost see the devil horns at this point. "Let's go back to your place and get a little more comfortable over a cup of coffee." "Jasmine, you know I don't drink coffee." Caffeine does nothing to me, and it tastes like liquid horse manure - oh wait. "What makes you think I do, sexy?" I'm so mesmerized by her that I completely missed what she was saying. But the date isn't over. I'm about to take a huge risk...as she hands me the keys to her car and allows me to drive. I deliberately got her to drink an extra glass of wine so she wouldn't trust herself to drive - she's hardly drunk, but her lack of confidence in herself comes in handy right about now. Besides, her Miata's fun to drive - she's the only girl I know who has a car with a manual transmission. I tried like hell to teach two different girls to drive a Honda that I used to have that had a stick-shift - to no avail. Now back to the fact that Jasmine thinks we're headed straight back to my apartment, but I have something else in mind. Never mind that it's completely insane to try this, but I made a quick call before we left, and now we're-- --just about here. I took her to a karaoke bar not to far from my place, and she knows exactly what I've got in mind. "Rex, what the hell are you doing?" "I'm not doing anything. You're about to do something." I practically have to drag her out of the car. "Now come on, Jasmine." I'm a lot stronger than I thought. "No, Rex. You can't sing worth a damn, and there's no way I'm getting up on that stage. I don't sing." Except in the shower. "I heard you sing in the shower, and you were incredible. Do you take lessons?" Stupid question - she never did. "When the hell were you watching me shower, you peeping tom?" Peeping tom...that's rich - she knew I was coming and she got in the shower anyway. Granted, that brings up the time I say Jasmine in nothing but a towel - my God, she's gorgeous. "Look, Jasmine," I tell her directly, "do this - just one song - and I promise we'll go back to my apartment later, and I'm all yours." She agrees. I'm trying to improve her confidence. For whatever reason, she doesn't feel like she's as good as she is. I aim to change that - aside from the befits to her, if it works, she'll spend less time revising her thesis and trying to iron out every out-of-place hair and more time on my couch enjoying life with me. I chose a song for her - "Watefalls" by TLC, the first song I ever heard her sing. For that matter, it was before I even met her - she was in the shower singing at the top of her lungs, and she sounded incredible. My college friend Dixie had just rented her other room to Jasmine, who was just getting up for the day - the weird hours kept by a grad student being what they are, it was about one in the afternoon, and I was grabbing Dixie for a Sharks game. Step two was to get the crowd on her side - I talk to a few friendly people and tell them that she's never sung in public and needs a little encouragement. Unfortunately, one of the patrons is a little too "friendly" - his exact words? "She's going home with me tonight. Just watch." About 6'2" and clearly Hispanic, he's certainly what "should" be Jasmine's type. But I have no trouble laughing at him, and that only makes him more angry. "Why don't you laugh in my face, whitey?" OK, no problem. He swings back to punch me-- --and I stop him. "Go ahead, asshole; punch me. But you'll scare Jasmine off. You want to punch me or get with her?" This is where he makes his fatal mistake. "I tell you what. When she leaves with me, you pay me $500." And what's in it for me? "If she goes home with you, I'll pay you." I only agree to it because it's a sucker bet and I don't mind taking money from some jerk who tried to kick my ass - I'll grant that he would have won the fight, but growing up, I learned to beat bullies with my brain. The music starts, and a nervous Jasmine starts singing. She's a little rusty - shaking off the nerves, having never sung in front of anyone - but by the chorus, she's got the crowd on her side. Pretty soon, she's gone from standing on stage scared to grabbing the microphone and belting out the song, even attracting people from outside just walking by. The tight jeans covering her gorgeous Latina hips and legs, the sweater over her beautiful body showing off her assets, and that hair...clearly I'm not the only one in the bar who can't take my eyes off her. There's something of a child-like wonder in her reaction to the cheering - table-pounding, chanting, hollering, and a few people waving lighters in the air. And there goes my rival up to the front ready to make a move on his new favorite singer, who's headed my way. She doesn't even see him - makes a beeline for me. I leap into her arms, and the stunned man looks her over, knowing she's going home with me and always was. I walk over to him as the bar manager offers her a free drink - she takes a Sex on the Beach. He whips out a wad of cash - and I stop him. "I can't take your money, dude." Obviously he doesn't understand. "Jasmine and I are out on our first date. I just made the bet to shut you up. Maybe next time you'll get to know a woman before you try to get in her pants." Fortunately, he's still confused as hell, so I get to get the hell out of there, let Jasmine finish her drink, and head back to my place. And this time, we actually get there. No more stops. I'm finishing up this blog as I look back at Jasmine on my couch - lying there naked and watching SportsCenter, waiting on me to join her. As usual...damn. She looks fine as hell. "Hey, I know you're meeting that Japanese girl tonight, but you don't really have to give her a chance, do you, baby?" Now she's in my lap - I'm almost ready to melt. I better get going; CBS may be paying me big bucks for this show and for the web series, but they're not sitting naked in my lap looking devilish.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 06-18-09, 03:39 PM (EST) 4. "Big Brother: Secret Mission Episode #1 - "Earn Money Sleeping"" ----------------------------------------------------------- Living Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- The last person to get out of their challenge clothes strolls confidently into the living room; Cinnamon, having just been crowned Head of Household, comes into the living room with a peach in her hand, looking over how her new constituents are dressed - most put on the same clothes they had worn before the challenge; others. like Cinnamon, are a little more comfortable, having shed her denim "contraptions" for the official uniform of the Big Brother attractive female - the bikini. This time, Harvey and Marcus are in the nominee chairs - Harvey simply because he thinks he had better get used to it after talking smack to the lady who won HoH - and Ben's nervously on one end of one couch, with the houseguests reserving the other edge for the bikini-clad power player and jousting champion. "You guys are all planning on clearing out in time for me to get some sleep, right?" John, crammed in the middle of the couch, hasn't really said anything since the competition, wondering if this whole thing was a big mistake - what did the producers want him for, anyway? And now, eating slop and sleeping on an uncomfortable couch? Why not just go on Survivor? His roommate of sorts - Cinnamon was sleeping in luxury tonight, all alone in the HoH bedroom, leaving Ben to take the other couch - was a little nervous, but at least, at some point, he wouldn't have to eat slop for a week. Ben looked over the other players, though, as if making an important decision. One person was going to get that slop pass - but the only reason it was on Ben's mind was that a good decision kept him in the game. The last thing Ben wanted was to go home - a $1,000 stipend that would undoubtedly be wasted by his mother. Who cares if that's what would really happen? Perception is reality, and Big Brother was where that was more true than anywhere. Seeing himself as a contrast to Cinnamon, he looks her over and smiles, simply uttering, nervously, "Hey...congrats on the win." "Yeah, thanks," she responds indifferently, as if it wasn't Ben's gaffe that gave her the title. Cinnamon seems more interested in Cameron, who, thankfully, is eating food this week; sadly, Ben would also be eating food - talk about someone who could benefit from the slop diet. Harvey, scrambling, looks for people who seem to be just as upset about the events that transpired - why is that bleached-blonde bikini-babe looking over Cameron so much? And I know it's dark out, but Giovanna, put down the beer. Almost completing a full head-turn, Harvey arrives on Juanita, the suddenly-quiet Nicaraguan who was Ms. Popularity a couple of hours ago. The sullen Latina seems to be thinking about the prospect of eating slop for a week, and given that Harvey's faced with the same prospect - come on, Ben's not giving up the slop pass to someone who needs it, is he? - and he motions her over to the table, shocking everyone who thought that the indifferent John would be the first to get up and walk away, likely finding a spot in the bathroom or something to sleep. Cinnamon quickly studies the groups being formed - Elizabeth, back in her chocolate-brown dress, is conversing with Marcus, who doesn't looks cared to death for once; meanwhile; Harvey has taken Juanita to the table - and resumes her previous task of studying Cameron as she charms the beer-swilling Giovanna and the overly-excitable Jason. As these exchanges continue, one houseguest is interrupted by the voice of God...err, Big Brother. "Edward, please come to the diary room immediately." A female voice, reminiscent of the computer from the 1976 movie Logan's Run. Edward finds his way to the diary room as John finds his way to the day bed near the pantry. ----------------------------------------------------------- Diary Room, Edward - Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- The couch inside the diary room is a nice plush blue and much softer than anyone was expecting; for Edward, this is his second trip inside - during the first, he, like all his housemates, was given his Secret Mission. "Edward," the voice states calmly, "you have won the first Mystery Prize. Every round will have this available until we get down to four players. The Mystery Prizes will vary in relevance to the game, outside rewards, or even booby prizes. The first prize..." Edward sits confidently, not sure what will happen after the dramatic pause but sure he can roll with it. "...is the right to change your Secret Mission. As you know, your Secret Mission is 'Never cast a dissenting vote.' If you keep this Mission, you must vote with the majority at every eviction. Weeks where you are nominated or on the block do not count. Now..." At this point, Edward licks his chops - surely one of the other players' Missions has to be easier than this one, even if this one's not so bad. After all, he could be forced to do something like, say, never win Head of Household. A whole summer without a letter from his wife? Pass. "...you can keep that Mission, or you can trade it for another. You can change it to 'Veto two nominations other than your own,' 'Never use or win the Mystery Prize or Second Chance,' or 'Serve as America's Player for two different weeks.' Do you have any questions?" "Yeah," confirms the confused Edward. "What the hell's a Second Chance? I don't think that was in any other seasons." "It's this season's other new twist." And the voice leaves it at that. "If you pick that Mission, winning this Mystery Prize does not count against you." That point of clarification wasn't needed; Edward's already ruled it out - as well as the one about America's Player; that might be for Eric and Dan, but unlike those two, Edward can't fit into any of the females' clothing and can stomach being on a first-name basis with the host. So either he stands pat or goes with the veto one. "I remind you, Edward, that you have only two more minutes to decide; should you fail to decide, a Mission will be chosen for you at random." The words 'and God help you if that happens' not spoken but definitely implied. Edward strokes his chin for a minute - clean-shaven but not above a good chin-stroke, one that might make the goatee-wearing faction of America jealous - and exhales, having made up his mind. "I'll change my Mission." Though Edward knows which mission he means, the voice doesn't. "I'll take the veto one." "You got it," says the voice, cheerily. "From here on out, you need to save two other people with the veto. Accomplish this and reach the final vote, and you are guaranteed at least $100,000." "Thanks." Edward turns and heads for the door, preparing to rejoin his housemates. ----------------------------------------------------------- Upstairs, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- "Who wants to see my HoH room?" is the cry from upstairs from a very excited Cinnamon, who's already gone a couple of weeks without seeing her girlfriend; however, all she has is the word that it's ready and the key to open it - she doesn't know what's inside. For all she knows, the producers filled it with horse manure. Well, something less valuable than horse manure, if you ask Elizabeth - in all her pictures but one, Cinnamon is dressed very minimally and photographed with a fellow member of her industry. "Who are these people?" asks a curious Ben, pointing to an older photograph of two people who don't exactly look like Cinnamon's crowd. "Oh that? That's my parents' wedding photo. It's really old; be careful with it." Ben looks but doesn't touch as he peruses her photos - stopping at the one of Cinnamon's girlfriend, who's strategically covered by her left arm and a tree branch. "So who's here in this picture?" asks a puzzled Harvey, pointing to the dark-skinned voluptuous woman posing nude but covered. They had to find out some time. "That's Candy. She's my girlfriend." Elizabeth gives a disgusted face and tries to ignore the photo, focusing instead on the wedding picture. "Look, Cinnamon," opines a somewhat-grieving Harvey. "If I knew you were gay, I wouldn't have hit on you. I'm sorry." "I'm not upset," she replies, somewhat indifferently. "If I were upset, you would know about it." "Well," he stammers, almost cracking a smile, "you did call me a disgusting pig out there." "I know," she retorts, almost trying to cut short the conversation. "And I stand by it." By this point, Elizabeth has cleared out of the room, followed by Marcus, Harvey, and Jamal, though the latter more trying to avoid being in the same room with his ex for any more waking hours. They may share sleeping arrangements, but at least they're asleep. "So, I guess it bears asking," chimes in an incredulous Ben. "How did you and Candy meet?" "Since I haven't really been shy about anything else," continues the strawberry blonde, "we met through my job. She's a fan of my site." Wishing he had fans - or a website of any kind - Ben tries to continue the conversation. "I take it she's your favorite co-star then?" "No." As if to shut him out. "She doesn't do films like I do." "Oh." Ben taken aback but enjoying the conversation. "What does she do?" "Nothing." By this point, Ben's onto a picture of Cinnamon's high school graduation - clearly the man with her is her father, but that woman is not her mother. "I pay the bills and run the site; I just like having someone hot to come home to, and that's Candy. Besides," she continues, somewhat smugly, "the last girl she was with might have been loaded, but she was a total bitch." Cinnamon hasn't taken too kindly to Ben's use of her king-size bed. "I love this room. Everything in here has a story." Just Cinnamon, Ben, and Taylor in here now. "I take it peaches are your favorite food--" "OK, give it a rest, Ben." Frustration - a first for the adult film star. "I have to know - why are you being so nice to me? I've been a bitch to you all evening." "What," from a confused Ben, "you want me to start acting like a jerk? I can do that, but it's just not my nature. Besides, you don't get ahead treating people like punks. Not here, and not in real life." Pausing for air. "I think you're fascinating, Cinnamon. I grew up sheltered and cut off from everything, and I never got a chance to meet people outside my own little bubble in small-town Utah. You're about as far away from my version of 'normal' as it gets. That's why I'm so interested in you." "Is that it?" Ben nods. "Because I thought it was more about my triple-D chest or some of my other features - and don't even ask; they're real." "Wasn't planning on it." Some measure of humility. "What you put into your body is your business." "Wow. Where were you when I was stripping?" Trick question - Ben says he would never go to a strip club. "Must be why I like you then. Just about any guy who comes to a strip club is an asshole. Especially the married ones - hello, guys; you have a wife. Go be with her." "I know what you mean." Well, he really doesn't, but it does make Cinnamon feel better. "Not first-hand or anything. Besides, who'd want to watch me strip?" "You might have something to work with." Cinnamon now sitting down next to Ben on the bed. "You're not a bad-looking guy, Ben." "Just great. Just great." Ben face-palms himself and puts his head in his hands. "The one girl who says I'm attractive, and she's a lesbian." "Relax, big guy." The words almost hypnotic. "You might not be my type, but I know plenty of girls who might want a guy like you. If you want," she continues encouragingly, "I could show you a thing or two tomorrow morning. It's how my regulars stay in shape for the camera." The ones who don't live off cigarettes and rice cakes, anyway. "Also, since I know you don't have a room, if you want, you can sleep up here." "I'll find a spot here that works for me. To be honest, the floor is an improvement." Not a shy word in that sentence. "I'm at least out of the house and living life. Oh, and by the way," a brief pause, "I know you don't really need it right now, but this is yours." Ben takes out the second slop pass, handing it to Cinnamon. "For the closest thing I've had to a friend in four years." "Not much of a toast, you know," she chuckles. "Not worthy of champagne. Maybe worthy of O'Doul's." "I'm not much of a drinker, anyway." Sure, he's no Mormon, but alcohol wasn't part of his life - ever. "Look, Ben," soothes the former stripper, "you have got to loosen up. I don't know what your deal really is, but you'll get nowhere if you're scared. You came here to play this game, right?" He nods. "I have a few ideas. Everyone knows this game is usually one side against the other. Well, all we need to do is be the winning side." "OK," replies Ben, a little shaken. "So we have us. Who else do we have?" "Answer me honestly, Ben." He looks Cinnamon in the eye. "Do you think Cameron's attractive?" Swallowing hard, he stammers, "Y-yes, I do." "Good answer." Cinnamon seems a little lost in thought - sure, she has a girlfriend, but look at all the beauties she plays around with on the side in order to bring in money. This is just a high-stakes version of the same. "I'm looking at her and that fine-ass Long Islander. Giovanna, I think she said her name was." "I'll talk to Giovanna. You can have Cameron." These words off a somewhat confident Ben's tongue. "What?" retorts a puzzled Cinnamon. "I'll take the hot one, thank you very much--" "Not so fast, Blondie," chuckles the once-shy Ben. "I'll take the hot one. You can just suffer with the cute blonde. Besides," as he nudges her, "Giovanna has a boyfriend. You don't have a chance." "Like you do," laughs the actress as the two playfully push each other. ----------------------------------------------------------- Pink Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- "Well," continues the well-dressed Jason, "none of us made Head of Household. So what do we do now?" Jason was conversing with Marcus and Elizabeth, who had taken an immediate liking to one another - Jason held little interest in their religion-based earlier conversation, but he had a need for survival in the house that the two new friends shared. "Are either of you planning on eating anything for the week?" inquires a scared Marcus. "I heard about what happened to that girl who ate the slop here a couple of seasons ago." "Relax, Marcus," soothes Elizabeth. "It wasn't the slop that did it. Eating nothing and eating slop will have the same effect. Frankly, the worst part of this week is that I'll have to suck up to that blonde." "She's terrible; I'll grant that." Marcus saying about the worst thing he ever says about anyone - among the things he eschews? Curse words. "The worst thing is," sighs the housewife, "she's just like I was before I found Jesus. She drinks, smokes, and sleeps around - and with women, no less! At least I had the decency to stick to the opposite sex. It's like, she just has no inhibitions. And that woman she says she's dating..." "I know what you mean." Marcus left the room immediately upon seeing the unclothed Candy. A man who proudly declares that the only woman he has ever seen unclothed is his wife - even his children were covered by the time he entered the delivery room, and his wife did all the diaper-changing - he avoided the risk of seeing Cinnamon's girlfriend in any state of undress by immediately averting his eyes. "I don't see what's so bad," chimes in the unusually quiet Jason. "I've seen all kinds of pictures. Hasn't hurt me a bit." "We're married, Jason," declares Elizabeth, proudly showing off her engagement and wedding rings. "You're not. I don't think you ever have been. For that matter, do you have anyone at home?" "Not at the moment. I did for about four years, but we broke it off a couple of months ago. I was too high-energy for her, and we just stopped having anything in common." Jason recalls his last girlfriend, who told him in their break-up fight that all he did was spend money - of which he had plenty - on her, like she was a high-class prostitute. As he uses that last word, Marcus cringes, and a familiar voice enters the room. "Already talking strategy, are we?" interjects the high-pitched Taylor. "Jamal's out there hitting on Cameron, so I decided I'd come in here." "It must be hard to be in here with your ex," says a resigned Elizabeth. "I haven't talked to my last boyfriend since I found the Lord. Couldn't imagine what he'd say about me if he saw me. I cheated on him so much, it was ridiculous." "Yeah, well, I understand what he must be going through," sighs Taylor. "Jamal cheated on me." In fact, Jamal did not cheat on Taylor, and Taylor knew it - even worse, Taylor had cheated, and confessing this to Jamal ended their relationship. Taylor thought she deserved another chance because she confessed it instead of being caught, but Jamal felt differently, so this lie was her way of getting even. Naturally, she expected the house to believe her story over his. After all, look at Hollywood, the political arena, and even most reality shows, and the message is pretty clear - women hardly ever cheat, while men cheat constantly. Besides, for all she knew, Jamal had cheated and just not said anything. "I know you and Jamal weren't married, but even so, I'd give you something to mend your relationship. It's saved so many of my husband's parishioners' marriages in the short time we've used it." Elizabeth seems to have Taylor's attention - maybe she can use this on him. "Last fall, Matthew stumbled on this thing called the Love Dare," with Matthew being Elizabeth's husband. "A man in his congregation confessed that he had cheated on his wife and was trying to save his marriage. It looked bad until Matthew did a Google search for something and came across the Love Dare. He bought a copy online and handed it to the man, told him to try everything, and two months later, that man came to us and thanked my husband for saving his marriage." Taylor sits expressionless as Elizabeth glowingly tells her story. "Mmm-hmm. And how many people have tried that and failed?" "Matthew's handed it to twelve people since September, and he keeps copies of it with the Bibles." That doesn't quite answer Taylor's question, but she continues. "All but one told him that the marriage was saved, and the twelfth was diagnosed with lung cancer on Day 22 - he was terminal. His wife stayed with him, but he didn't live much longer. That's about the closest thing we've had to a failure. Matthew's very persuasive - he tells them flat-out that it only works if you pour your heart into it." "Sure it does," speaks up Taylor. "Some pastor gave that to my dad, and my parents are still divorced." "Really," replies a shocked Elizabeth. "And what did this pastor tell your dad?" "Damned if I know," retorts a frustrated Taylor. "But I know he tried it, and one day, Mom told him, 'I don't know what's gotten into you, Ray, but whatever it is, just stop. I want this divorce, and nothing's stopping me. So just cut it out.' And he did. He told me later he was on Day 28." "Well, there's the problem," interjects a proud Elizabeth. "He gave up. The Love Dare is forty days, not twenty-eight. Everyone Matthew gave it to finished, except the cancer patient. Your father didn't. And that's why he failed--" "I don't have to listen to this." Taylor throws her hands up and rises from her seat, poised to walk out. "We may be partners in this game, but understand this - I don't like you and you don't like me. I don't agree with you and I never will. If working with you gets me to the end, so be it, but don't piss me off. And don't talk about my father." "Taylor, I didn't--" and Elizabeth cuts herself off as Taylor raises a middle finger to her, not even turning around to look at her new alliance-mates. Maybe she'll have a better offer from Jamal and his new girlfriend. ----------------------------------------------------------- Blue Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- Standing outside the door to the blue room, Taylor listens to her ex's conversation with three women. Jamal sits on a bed with Valerie; Cameron and Giovanna sit opposite them, with Giovanna having donned a blue bikini top and cutoffs. "It looks like there are four of us," says Cameron astutely. "I noticed there was another room with four people. I'm guessing we'll have to stick together." "An alliance with two beautiful women and a mom?" Jamal anxiously replies. "Hey," chimes in Valerie, offended. "I might love my fried chicken, but I'll have you know I get plenty of looks." "Get real, Val," laughs Giovanna. "With that haircut?" Valerie's hairstyle is most reminiscent of Denise from Survivor: China. Denise said she kept her hair the way she did to remain attractive to her husband, but as a divorcee, Valerie had no one to impress. "I'll tell you what, kids," laughs Valerie. "I'll give you guys my help. But in return," she continues, "you can't make fun of my hair for the rest of the season." "I'll meet you halfway," smiles Cameron. "I'll give you a makeover. Make you look fantastic." "OK, good enough. So, here's my idea." Valerie, always a loud one, doesn't stop to see if anyone else is in the room or can hear her. "We don't have Head of Household. But what we can do is talk to Cinnamon and try to get her to keep us safe. She's already not happy with Harvey, so we can try to push to get him on the block." "That's all good. Plus, I don't think Marcus will last a week in this place." Giovanna makes this offer, trying to save her own skin. In the back of her mind, she wants the others to forget that she is, in fact, eating food this week; Valerie and Jamal are stuck on slop. But at least they're not afraid of it - both say they've eaten far worse. "I have to ask, though," a curious Cameron interjects. "What's with that guy John? Always complaining about being bored and never talking to anyone. It's like he doesn't want to be here." "So we push for John and Harvey to go up." Valerie, trying to lead, makes her proposition as black-and-white as she can. "Marcus can be an alternate. We can get rid of whoever we please once we have the numbers. We have four. We just need two more in our pockets, and we control the game." "And we need a name," smiles Jamal. "I suggest..." says a female voice outside the room. The foursome turns, and Taylor enters. "I suggest getting the hell out of here," retorts an angry Jamal. "I suggest you shut up and listen. You need a fifth? I'm here. I want those jerks out." Taylor, trying to exact vengeance on Elizabeth for the insult of her father, turns to an enemy. "Marcus, Elizabeth, and Jason are an alliance. With the five of us, we can control the vote." "Not interested" is Jamal's cold shutdown. "I will never be in an alliance with you. I never want to work with you again, and if you have to leave the house tonight, I hope I never see you again." "Fine. Have it your way," as Taylor strolls out, heading back to her old alliance. "What the hell did you do that for?" shouts back an angry Giovanna, almost ready to hit Jamal. "She'll lie, cheat, and backstab. She did it to me." He seems to have the ladies' attention. "I won't go into all of what she did to me, but the fact is, it was an ugly breakup, and I'm not happy with her." Telling them that Taylor cheated would bring about an ugly confrontation, since Taylor told the opposite story - though Jamal does not know this - so Jamal decides to keep the peace and his mouth shut. "You had better be right about this, Jamal." These stern words off Valerie's lips. "Because if you're not, I'll offer you as a sacrifice." "Oh, come on. No one does that." Jamal tries to liven the mood - but Valerie stares him down. He takes it as his chance to leave the room - and does. ----------------------------------------------------------- Dining Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- "I'm confused about something," Juanita changes the subject slightly with Harvey after talking about his career in law enforcement. "I notice you're wearing your wedding ring, but you haven't brought up a wife." Harvey sighs, knowing he's told Edward and Marcus and should probably tell his new friend. "I'm a widower. Two years now." He simply hasn't taken his wedding ring off because it's comfortable, and on the job, it's not worth getting used to not wearing one. "Besides," he continues, "it's not as if I'll ever get married again. Or date." "Don't be so sure, Harvey," she soothes. "You're not that old." "I sure feel old," as he leans forward, giving a glimpse of a few graying hairs. "I work probably sixty hours a week doing jobs no one else does and correcting people's paperwork. I don't really have much of a home to come home to. Just me and my things. I haven't taken a vacation in six years. I haven't even had more than three days off in a row since I got married." He thinks back to his honeymoon, just a nice four-night trip with Stephanie up to Niagara Falls. Thankfully, he had enough money socked away for the trip after the cut-rate wedding. At least they could enjoy themselves some before settling into a life of hard marriage. "I'm sure Stephanie was a good woman," she says, rubbing his neck - he uneasily accepts the neck rub, having never let anyone other than his wife touch him like that. "I know being a good woman isn't always enough. Being a good man sure isn't." "I have to ask something." This statement gets the first rising tone out of Harvey. "When the new host came on the screen, you knew his name and none of us did. Why?" Juanita has to think up a lie quickly at this point - sure, most secrets take about a week to come out in the Big Brother house, but if Rex was keeping her secret, so was she. "We attended the same casting call. Las Vegas, January." That part was true, actually - Juanita recalls spotting Rex in line about twenty minutes ahead of her. But with the way he ignored her calls, blocked her e-mail, and wouldn't even say hello to her at home during their school days? Why risk making a scene? Besides, she figured they would just end up in the house together anyway when they ran background checks. Big Brother could be cruel like that - stick two still-grieving people in the house who used to date each other. "I just didn't have any idea they wanted him to host." "I thought we'd see Julie again." Houseguests were asked to keep the discussion of the old host to a minimum - anything referring to her interaction with past houseguests was OK, and some talk about thinking they'd see her instead of the skinny blond without a tie was acceptable. Discussion of her ugly break-up with Les Moonves? Off limits. Besides, it wasn't as if they all knew what happened; if anything, Moonves realized that Carrie's death was the best thing that could have happened to him - a gigantic CBS-related distraction. "I knew we weren't going to see Julie, but I had no idea who we would see. You know who might have been a good choice? Howie Mandel." In fact, Howie was never asked - no one knows if he'd do it, but if he did, the houseguests had better work on their fist-pounds. Besides, no part of his name could work with the suffix "-bot" attached. "I don't know how I'd feel about having a host who wouldn't shake my hand, though," as Harvey refers to seeing Marcus refuse a handshake from him. Marcus even refused Mandel's trademark fist-pound from another houseguest and shied off from any contact. "At least I know who won't be in my alliance. Besides, he's in there with Elizabeth, and if I have to hear her talk all summer about being a damn born-again Christian, I'll choke myself on my gum." "Tell me about it," replies Juanita, somewhat exhausted-sounding. "I've always been a Christian, but I was born once. No need to go through that again. Besides," she continues, "if I get born again, I have to go through school and listen to that dreadful third-grade teacher of mine, get back into college, and go through my dissertation all over again. I didn't sleep for sixty-nine hours straight while I was working on that. Lived off Red Bull and Twinkies." Harvey prepares to reply - and looks down, defeated. "Damn, you're good. My best is only sixty-six hours. Cigarettes, coffee, and eggs." "I didn't think you smoked," Juanita fires back, a little surprised, remembering her ex's addiction to tobacco. "Not anymore." Harvey sees the relief in Juanita's eyes. "I gave it up two years ago after my wife died. But back then, I needed those cigarettes. Took the edge off." "I think we only have a few smokers this season. I could smell it on Jason's clothes; it almost made me gag." Harvey nods in agreement and makes a comment about ruining expensive clothes with the smell of tobacco. "Cinnamon, the new Head of Household, said a couple of times that she needed a cigarette. She'd have a hell of a body if she'd cut back on those things." "And she'd have a hell of a personality if she wasn't a bitch." But he realized that he'd have to suck up to her, and it wouldn't do any good. "Maybe we need to ask her for an alliance or something." "Won't do any good. We need to get someone up who just needs to go. And we have a while to figure out who that is." Juanita looks around the house, seeing Edward wander into the blue room with the born-again Christians, ruling him out as a potential alliance partner. "In the meantime, let's just hang back. We can join up with whoever. They'll be so busy taking each other out that we'll get to the end." Juanita then turns her attention to the budding fight between the ex-lovers in the living room; Harvey, at this point, turns his attention to Juanita. ----------------------------------------------------------- Living Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- Jamal was wondering why he was letting Taylor push him around at this point. He had let Taylor push him around through most of their relationship, and when he reached his breaking point with her, she continued to push. "When the hell will you learn, Jamal?" Taylor angrily sits Jamal down on the couch opposite an exhausted John, "I came to you for an alliance." "I don't want your damn alliance! I've made that clear!" Jamal tries to get up and walk away, but with every move he makes, Taylor blocks him. Just like when they broke up - at least that's how he sees it. "We're in this together, Jamal. We have to stick together. Dick and Daniele did it and they went all the way. And she hated him a lot more than you will ever hate me. Don't you get it, Jamal? We were in love!" Jamal, unmoved by Taylor's words, tries to get up again - and notices Taylor putting her hands on his shoulder blades. Firmly. Jamal, while thinking how strong she is for a small woman, thinks of the next thing to say. Taylor, meanwhile, gets quieter. "Look, I told a few lies. I think it's going to help. I told my alliance," and Jamal braces for this, "that you cheated on me. I know that isn't true, but work with me." Jamal gets up to leave again, or tries to; this time, Taylor's shoe heel is on his foot. Some guys might be into this, he thinks, but this was never for him. "Let me go," he demands, thinking of nothing else. "No," she retorts, pushing him back down. "Now I'm going upstairs to talk to Cinnamon here in a second. It's all up to you what I tell her. I can tell her you're in with the born-agains, or I can tell her I'm in with the other people. That," she continues, "or I can tell her we're enemies. And I'll make damn sure she puts you up. You either do whatever the hell I tell you, Jamal," she demands, "or you're out of the house. It's that simple." "Or--" he attempts. "Or what?" she shouts. This shout gets John's attention. "Or maybe your two lovebirds can shut up and let me sleep. Seriously, people. How late is it?" Obliging John, Taylor heads into the sauna room, Jamal in tow, and the small woman in heels throws down the larger Jamal with seemingly no effort. Jamal still can't grasp how, after standing up to her father, he's allowing this petite woman to physically dominate him. Out in the living room, John turns back over, still dressed to impress, his suit jacket tossed over the couch and his tie loosened. One has to wonder if he always sleeps dressed up. Juanita takes another look at Harvey, whose fixation on her was broken by seeing Jamal dragged away, and she attempts to grab the collar to his T-shirt - and he stops her. "Don't even think about it," he demands. "That crap might have worked on him, but I'm not him. Although," he lets his guard down a little, "I do think you're a lot more attractive than Taylor is." Juanita smiles and turns her attention back to Harvey's neck, trying to get out a kink that he had complained about. ----------------------------------------------------------- Sauna Room, Day 1 ----------------------------------------------------------- "I'll tell you one more time," Taylor shouts at a cowering Jamal, who considers himself lucky still to be clothed. "You're either in or you're out. And if you're out, I'll get you out. I'll turn on my feminine charms, and Cinnamon will fall for it." "Yeah, sure. Feminine charms. I think my charms might work better," laughs Jamal, forgetting that Taylor has him beat. "Please tell me you're not this stupid, Jamal," laughs Taylor back. "Didn't you see the picture of that naked girl on her wall?" He did. "That was her girlfriend." Again, he tells her the same story he told Dana on the train last summer - lots of girls have friends they call "girlfriends." And again, Taylor, bringing up Dana again, blasts him back to reality. "Go get a dictionary and look up the word 'lesbian,' will you? That's her girlfriend. They're in love." "Of course, of course," mutters a defeated Jamal. "All the hot girls date each other. I forgot." Or date skinny white guys - Giovanna had described her boyfriend as skinny. But at least she claimed she was straight. "I'm going now. You stay right here." For some reason, Jamal felt obliged to obey Taylor. "I'm going up to Cinnamon's room. When I come back, your fate is sealed. But," she flashed a smile as she spoke, "if you're in later, I'll help you win the veto. Are we clear?" Without a move against her, Jamal let Taylor walk out; at this rate, despite his resistance, he would probably be telling her "You can have me" by about tomorrow afternoon and, should he reach the end with her, telling the jury to vote her the money. Meanwhile, Taylor, on a mission to take down her ex, storms up to the Head of Household bedroom. When she left, it was lively, but now, the lights were off. Clearly, the first night was not the party people expected, certainly not for the newly-crowned HoH. And for some strange reason, no one had seen Ben, either; did he wander off? Did he quit the game, scuttling back to the safety of his home in Utah? At that rate, taking Jamal out would have to wait a week. Or they could just cancel a double-eviction week. Taylor pressed her ear to the door; on the other side, no one seems to stir. But after a minute or two of waiting for a signal to head in, she gets all the information she needs. "Goodnight, Cinnamon," the voice from the other side. Male, a bit shaky - what was a guy doing in Cinnamon's bed? Was Jamal perhaps right about his masculine charms working? Taylor had always believed that strippers, particularly the fiery Cinnamon, held a grudge against men. And here she was sharing a bed with one? "Goodnight, Ben," she softly replied. "Sweet dreams." And that was the last sound coming from the HoH bedroom for about ten minutes. At this point, Taylor, ear firmly against the door, heard Cinnamon, somewhat agitated, demanding, "Turn over. Damnit, Ben, turn over. You sound like a chainsaw." He apparently did as she asked - and twenty minutes or so later, Taylor gave up. There was always tomorrow, and it was looking like a long summer. Nominations were a couple of days away, and Cinnamon had a few names in mind. She knew who she wasn't putting up - Ben was nice to her, Cameron was cute, and Giovanna had an ass that was made for those cutoffs, but everyone else was fair game. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered how her replacements for the summer would do keeping her site updated. She taught them everything she knew, but there was only so much to teach. She thought the same thing about her friend Molly, who was a huge Big Brother fan but wasn't really right for the show. See, in Molly's audition tape, she kept her clothes on and didn't put her girlfriend in a collar. Back downstairs, Taylor bumps into Jason. "We get her attention tomorrow," she states emphatically. "The four of us in alliance with Cinnamon? We're unbeatable. "Make it five," smiles Taylor. "Edward's in. A little faith talk with Marcus and Elizabeth, and he was sucked right in." "How do you feel about being in an alliance with four strong Christians?" inquires Taylor, who was raised Baptist and considered herself a strong believer. "It was that or hang out with a girl who reminds me too much of my ex," jokes Jason, referring to Cameron, a petite blonde like his ex. The others retired to their rooms, as Taylor saw no sight of Jamal during the next long period of time - she guessed a little more than an hour of talking with Jason. The smell of cigarette smoke didn't bother her that much, but she knew it bothered Elizabeth, and she had to keep the peace in her alliance. Fortunately, she knew how to do laundry. After Jason headed back to bed - an early riser, used to being at work at seven to catch the East Coast business, he was up unusually late - Taylor strolled back to the pantry, where she had left Jamal, now finding him catching forty winks on the cushions. "Get up, Jamal. It's my time now," she demands, and Jamal instantly wakes up. "Cinnamon was asleep. We go up there first thing in the morning. Now," as she looks straight in his eyes, "it's time for me to get what I want. I like this being in control, and that's how it's going to stay." Jamal just stares back at her, almost under her spell. She continues her orders. "Clothes off and on your knees," she demands. He hesitates - and she repeats the order. He stands up - and heads for the door. "Like hell," he dismisses her, heading to bed. As the door closes behind him, Taylor stands dumbfounded, wondering where he got this sudden boost of courage. Knowing she couldn't count on controlling Jamal, she sat in the sauna room trying to formulate a new plan. ----------------------------------------------------------- Blog Entry Authored by: Rex Majors, stillaliveandkicking ----------------------------------------------------------- I've got a lot of blogging to catch up on - going on a date with a different woman every night is exhausting. Not to mention expensive; fortunately, it's CBS' money, not mine. Also, I seem to be getting all the special features of the show - I can watch myself on dates, and I get the Live Feeds, Showtime Too, and a 24-7 Diary Room feed for free. So when I'm not working on the show, at a live broadcast, in makeup, or on a date with a woman, I'm usually either eating, sleeping, or watching the feeds. It's a hard job, but...oh, who am I kidding; I'm getting paid to blog. The first day was all we needed for the first episode - just seeing everything unfold was what this show's all about. I was guessing we'd see two competing alliances almost right off the bat, and that's kind of what happened - All-Stars was the best season for alliances, but this one's shaping up to be more like the season before that, with the Sovereign Six against the Friendship, or whatever their opponents chose to call them. And even with a group derisively called the Girl Scout Troop or the Nerd Herd, Howie's biggest annoyance was still other people talking about how badly they wanted to leave. So far, not much of that - the boredom hasn't yet set in for most people, and the novelty of being in the house is still there for about thirteen people. Even Harvey, who's used to much tougher situations, hasn't succumbed to boredom, and I haven't succumbed to jealousy of him ogling my ex. Frankly, he can have her. I have a date scheduled for Sunday with her - well, more like a chance to talk, and they'll serve us both dinner. One small note - even if Juanita's on slop, she eats dinner with me Sunday nights. She has whatever they serve me, and since I get paid the same amount no matter who finishes where, I don't see a need to eat slop. She's also right about seeing me at the Vegas casting call - I was there. I even saw someone I thought might be her, but I didn't say anything because I was fixated on the information they had just given me. I pretty much got a free pass to the next round, where they old me they wanted me to host. But even if I were interested in reconciling with Juanita, which I'm not, she has her work cut out for her - even as I went into my second date on Tuesday, all I could think about was Jasmine. She took the day off on Tuesday to hang out with me and didn't even go back to her place until Wednesday night, so while I'm on my date, I know in the back of my mind I have a red-hot girl back at my apartment who just rocked my world the night before. And earlier that afternoon. And probably again that night after the date - OK, definitely again that night. Tonight was an Italian place, and I waited for about ten minutes for Yuki, my date, to show up. She didn't even crack five feet, so after going out with the tallest woman in the group the night before, I was now with the shortest. I mostly took the opportunity to practice my Japanese - when I visited Derek in January for the hockey games, he taught me a few phrases, but I had no clue what I was saying and ended up speaking Spanish half the time. No, Rex, "poco" is not Japanese for "a little." She's fairly attractive, though, this Yuki - and clearly pretty smart. Without comparing her to Jasmine, I'd say she's about a 7 on the looks and about a 9 as far as brains go. Personality...well, a little hard to gauge, since she's a little quiet. I did get a chance to look her over as she got up to go to the bathroom; she wore a knee-length skirt with heels that actually push her to above five feet. As she gets toward the front entrance, I turn my attention back to my chicken parmigiana, eyeing her half-eaten cheese ravioli - she told me she doesn't eat meat - and then it hits me. The bathroom's in the back of the restaurant, not the front. All that's in the front is seating for people waiting. As she saunters back, I decide not to call her out on this, even if it's a little puzzling. But as I finish off the chicken and prepare for the last few bites of pasta, a strange flavor hits my nose. Not chicken. Not any kind of spice - I would have picked up on that by now - but something. And then it hits me what it is, as I see her open purse. California has one of the strictest smoking bans in the country, and one of the longest-standing. For a while, that's how we picked out tourists - they asked for non-smoking. So not only wasn't she going to bathroom, she was going out to smoke - hiding the fact that she was going out to smoke. Not sure at this point which I'm more upset about. A few minutes later, I ask for the bill, pay it, and sign my name just as it appears on the card. She seems a little puzzled, since she indicated she wanted dessert, but I wasn't really that hungry anymore and I just wanted to end the date. I stuff the receipt in my shirt pocket as I look right at her and tell her the words she probably least wants to hear at this point. "I have to cut you." Naturally, she wants to know why - fair question, but I think she knows. And it's not because I've never dated an Asian woman before, a fact that she kindly refrains from bringing up. "You weren't going to the bathroom," I finally call her out. "You were going out to smoke. I asked the producers not to cast smokers. I am not a smoker. No woman I have ever dated has been one." That's not entirely accurate – Chanel, my college sweetheart, gave up smoking for me. She had a half-pack-a-day habit, and when I told her I wasn't interested in dating her because of it, she threw her last pack of smokes out and traded in her addiction for Jolly Ranchers. I somehow don't see Yuki doing the same. "I-I'm trying to quit," she stammered. "The producers were OK with that." Well, maybe I can be persuaded to keep her - nope, not buying it. "No one I know who's trying to quit keeps a spare pack in her purse. And no one who has any inkling of quitting keeps two of them. How much do you smoke in a day, anyway?" "Umm..." Trying to think up a lie, I see. "And I want to truth," I demand. "I don't know...maybe three a day?" Packs, I assume - she confirms it: she's a chain-smoker. I don't condemn her for it - she really is a nice girl other than that, but I can't really be sure she's being honest with me. On the way out of the restaurant, I grab a pamphlet for one of those quitting-smoking services. She accepts it with a smile, as I tell her, "If you do decide to quit, you'll want to be prepared." She smiles back; I let her kiss me on the cheek before she heads off, presumably back to her apartment on the UCLA campus. As I arrive back at my apartment, I tell everything to Jasmine, who's still there waiting for me and still hasn't bothered to get dressed. So nice to come home to a beautiful naked 25-year-old. Tomorrow's my night in, speaking to Marta over webcam, so she sadly has to be out then, but I'd just as soon hide her in a closet for the evening. Jasmine, predictably, has something smart to say about the situation; in her words, "I don't need to smoke. I'm already hot." I guess the confidence-boost worked a little too well. But at least she's having fun; while I was out, she ordered the American Idol video game for her Wii. I'd love to see her sing some more. And I gently remind her, "especially if you're dressed like this." Actually, I'd like to see her do anything dressed like this, and she obliges when I remind her that I haven't had dessert. She offers to make brownies, and I don't know if I had more fun helping her make them or helping her eat them. We fell asleep on the couch, me in her arms wondering why I wasn't just dating her. But there are eight other women, so I guess it's only fair if I give them all a chance. End of Episode #1   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

vince3 15726 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 06-18-09, 08:40 PM (EST) 5. "Question" Is each chapter going to be solely based on one episode's worth of stuff, because that means we're gonna have somewhere around 30 or so chapters....... not that I mind, that is   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 06-20-09, 08:51 AM (EST) 6. "RE: Question" That's exactly how I have it mapped out - 29 episodes, each based on one episode of things.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Estee 44384 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Playboy Centerfold" 07-08-09, 11:37 AM (EST) 7. "Counterpoints." The main intent of the casting seems to be 'How many enemy pairs can we get going against each other?' And the limit isn't exactly set at seven: some people are going to form mortal hatreds with as many people as they can lash their tongue against. The house has always cast for conflict -- but this group could wind up burning the place down to the never-before-seen subbasement level by the end of Week #4. At least Marcus will catch the ashes before they get into anyone's lungs. I wonder how much of a public vote element we're getting this season. We've already been threatened with an AP, and some of the hamsters have defined fanbases. (Elizabeth and Cinnamon stand against each other -- and so do their backers.) Ben might wind up as a VFTW victim -- if he's telling the truth about his mother, she might lead a crusade to make his cage life impossible, hoping he'll quit and come back to her. Marcus would be a darling of the same crowd, especially if they can vote him into any dirt-centric challenges. (He may be the first person to quit on stand-and-write. Chalk dust!) Taylor... what kind of edit would CBS give her? Make Jamal the bad guy and push her as the princess, holding back all her bad moments for the feedsters and creating the standard live/processed split in the fanbase? Producer intent is going to be everything for most of the hamster storylines, but that's the one where strategic footage loss can do the most damage. Similarly, Harvey could wind up with an Eric edit, but that'll take some artifice -- he's not giving them much to work with. And Jason may come across as ultra-annoying no matter what anyone does. Although that may just be my reaction... It does sound like the feeds may have been made available to the public before Episode #1 aired -- but that's a guess: just because the host has them doesn't mean anyone else gets the early preview. Even if Rex is the only person who has them, his impressions get to be influenced early and often -- and unlike the prior host, he's paying attention. Secret missions, huh? How much does the audience know about what each hamster has to do? Is the list of deeds going to leak slowly or have a bulk posting on the website? Intelligent hamsters will figure out that everyone has one (even if someone doesn't -- this game is not fair), but there will be a few assuming it's an AP sort of thing and they're the lucky ones going for the extra cash. (Very nasty possibility for sometime later in the season: post a list of all possible missions (plus some extras) on the Memory Wall, then watch people go insane trying to make the matches.) 'Vote with the majority every time' isn't a mission the player has much control over: it requires almost total control of the cast or full knowledge of what everyone is planning at any given moment. And the instant someone defects and creates a tie, you're dead. BB's bonus money is generally designed not to be given out -- which makes me think we're looking at Secret Mission Impossible across the board. BTW, if you'll check the latest spoiler info for the 'real' season, you'll see the casting people ripped you off again... While a DDD is also known as an E (and sometimes F), a few industry people trying to remain within the mainstream will just use as many Ds as the occasion requires under the logic that A. it looks more interesting (and less divisive of audience) plus B. not many people can comprehend the existence of higher letters anyway.   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

Colonel Zoidberg 3370 desperate attention whore postings DAW Level: "Car Show Celebrity" 07-11-09, 04:45 PM (EST) 8. "RE: Counterpoints." The Secret Missions are designed to be difficult, not impossible, but as you said, bonus money is designed by TPTB to be dangled, not given out - this is the same show that gave away a car they didn't own. However, impossible missions would be from the real producers; I just give difficult ones, since I'm just playing with metaphorical money anyway. I will say this much - there are ten different possible missions. Four of them have been revealed, and Edward's previous mission is the same as another houseguest's. Everyone else shares a secret mission with one other person. I will reveal them slowly; at the earliest, I will reveal a mission when a person's arc takes a different turn, they make a power move, or they get found out; at the latest, they'll reveal it when they're opposite Rex for their exit interview. I deliberatley went for varieties of opposites, both for how they would stand against each other and for how well they could work together. Cinnamon is faced with two clear opposites - Elizabeth, who sees her as a mortal enemy due to steep ideological differences and a lot of personal dislike, and Ben, who, after claiming to be locked away from the world for years, is now best friends with a woman who broadcasts herself getting naughty with girls on the internet. Of course, that may just be from winning HoH, and after the first eviction, she'll just go back to being the well-endowed bikini girl (I listed her "qualifications" using DDD because I'm fairly sure that's how people in her industry would list them; my research on the adult film industry is a little out of date.) Oh yes - and Juanita is definitely there mainly to torture Rex and to throw in a twist that de Mol and Grodner wouldn't dare touch (let's see those wise guys toss one of the Chenbot's old flames into the hamster cage.) I also wouldn't be surprised if BB11's cast is strikingly similar to mine - half of TAR13's cast seemed like it was plucked from TAR Expedition as was one of their minor plot points (yes, I'm looking at you, Starr and Dallas.) At least all of TAR13's cast escaped finale night with their lives. (I considered putting in a couple of past houseguests into my season but decided against it when I knew I'd either have to include Evel Dick, which would virtually require using a writing style with bleep capability, or Dan "How Shall I Annoy The Host This Season?" Gheesling. Besides, his head would explode from not being able to address the host with title and surname when only one member of the house knows the new host's surname.)   Remove | Alert Edit | Reply | Reply With Quote | Top

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