The show began not with the standard imagery of a crab on the beach or a sage monkey in the trees, but instead with a violent tempest wreaking havoc on all our poor survivors. If it wasn't bad enough that the older men had to sleep on bamboo logs (sort of the antithesis of Sealy Posturepedic), they now had to endure the steady trickle of raindrops falling on their heads. Funny -- those "sounds of the rain forest sleep" devices are much more effective when they're not happening to you.

No one understood this more than Shane, who we soon found complaining to the camera about how awful the night was. "This place breeds bad luck," he stated. And one quick edit later, we heard a thunder clap and saw what seemed to be a tree slamming down on him. Sadly, Shane survived this Attack of the Horticulture, which meant he could continue to complain and whine throughout the evening. Rather than listen to him though, we thankfully headed over to the younger men's camp which was essentially experiencing the same waterlogged nightmare as the geezers. Bobby at least tried to make the most of his drippy environs by sticking out his tongue to collect any errant moisture for hydration. And let's be honest: there's no better refreshment than sipping rain water that has leaked through your roof.

The next morning, we headed to the older women's camp, and guess what? They couldn't start their fire. Specifically, Cirie couldn't start it. Hey, weren't they able to start one without problems last week? What gives? Oh that's right. The one woman who could start a fire they voted off. Bet you miss Tina now, don't you, ladies? (It should be noted that I don't expect a response from Ruth Marie, seeing that she's not prone to saying more than one or two words per episode.)

Over at the younger women's tribe, the girls were busy knocking a papaya off a tree, and surprisingly, they succeeded. However, Courtney did not launch into a metaphysical commentary about the symbolic nature of papayas, nor did she suggest scattering sand in the southern wind as a sign of thanks to the tribal gods of fruit and birthing. Instead, she and the girls simply chowed down, leading an extremely bitten-up Misty to announce, "It's almost orgasmically wonderful." Uh oh. Looks like somebody just had a papayagasm!

Meanwhile, over at the older men's camp, Shane was in the midst of a complain-gasm as he sniffled that he missed his son and was miserable and was missing his son's football practice and he didn't know why he had signed up for this and by the way, he really really really missed his son and blah blah blah SHUT UP! Hey idiot, why go on the show in the first place? Did you not know about the whole "stranded on an island" thing? If you go on a reality show, you forfeit the right to complain about missing your children.

"I don't know why I did this to myself," Shane lamented, noting, "This whole scenario is so different than the way I live my life. Like, my life is very busy, and it's always all the time. It's like constant like ADD like, you know what I mean, psycho boy." Translation: daddy needs his cocaine.

Anyway, with the sun back out, the tribes all convened in front of Jeff Probst for a very special treat. He had the men and women step onto disks, and we all know what that means: tribal switcheroo! Sure enough, everyone had to turn their disks over, and the two people with buffs underneath would each start their own team. They would then pick someone of the opposite sex, and then that person would do the same and so on and so forth, playground style, until two tribes were assembled. Danielle and Terry were the two lucky buff-stander-onners, and at Probst's urgings, the popularity contest began. Personally, I didn't know why we needed this switcheroo so soon. This was like Palau when after one night of living together, the tribes were allowed to have separate camps. Mark Burnett, if you're going to do a twist, might as well commit to it.

Nevertheless, Danielle immediately gravitated towards Shane, calling him "the cool guy with the Boston tattoo." You know that thrilled Shane. Inside his inner-monologue was probably something along the lines of "She called me cool? YES! Sweet, sweet validation. I've waited so many years."

Well, I won't get into all the nitty gritty of this tribal pick 'em, but I will say that Courtney picked Aras, which means the two will be joining forces to create one giant vortex of New Age annoyance. Every time they come upon a dead fish, they'll probably hover their hands over it, trying to collect the energy of its soul, all the while chanting Buddhist prayers and casting rose petals into the ocean.

Posted by B-side on February 13, 2006 4:24 PM