A Breasted Development - 
by B-Side
Well, it's week two of Survivor: Model Island and Tyra Banks still hasn't arrived to hand out headshots to the castaways. Maybe she and Janice Dickinson got marooned on a different archipelago. Nevertheless, the assembled clan of beautiful genes excised another of its own, leaving the makeshift island nation that much closer to Hitler's dreams of a pure, radiant society. You know you're amongst the Beautiful People when the resident Piggy has only 9% body fat.
Amazingly, for all my trash talk, I sort of like this cast. Usually I tire of vapid models and aspiring actors. Maybe I just need to take a conch to the head to snap me out of this mindset, but so far, I'm feeling good about this season. It's too bad. Now it looks like I won't get to use my much rehearsed line, "Survivor: Palau? How about Survivor: Puh-leese." Actually, that just makes me sound like a Fran Drescher impersonator in Vegas. So just forget I even said it in the first place.
At the outset of this week's show, things were not going so well for the Koror tribe. They were cold, wet, and surrounded by rats. The next morning, they realized they had wandered into a crack den in Brooklyn. Janu had a particularly difficult time with the rats, and not even her oversized Edna Mode glasses could help scare them away. "I know it's mind over matter, but I mind and it matters!" she said. Oooh, I love the Janu-ization of a cliché! Let's do another: "A stitch in time saves nine, but I stitch and I don't have time" or "An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but I'm an apple and I need a doctor!" Hmmm... I'll leave the bon mots to Janu, a.k.a. the Mae West of Palau.
Particularly upset about the beach was Caryn, who without looking at her bio is clearly a lawyer from Manhattan (looked at the bio: raised in New York, but is a lawyer in Ohio now). I hope Caryn wrangles in a huge class action case, if only so we can give Annie Potts some work during the inevitable Lifetime Television dramatization.
Meanwhile, over at Ulong, the team was still reeling (read: elated) from the loss of Jolanda at Tribal Council. Now everyone could do what they wanted without someone yelling in their ears, reasoned James. "We're gonna do democracy!" he then added proudly. So apparently Jolanda was imposing some sort of totalitarian regime on the island? Or maybe she'd espoused a feudal rule. EIther way, doesn't matter. She was gone, and now James, newly emancipated from brutal serfdom, was ready to get down with the U. S. of A. in Palau. Yeehaw! First order of the new democracy: uh... um... gather pebbles?
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