11-023
Five reasons I’d never win “Survivor”
If I had a
million bucks, I’d never empty the dishwasher, sweep the tumbleweeds of my
husband’s body hair off the bathroom floor, or kick the fender on my minivan
back into place.
My only
chance to win a million might be in the show “Survivor.” Where I grew up,
everyone has dirt under their fingernails and can gut a rabbit. My resourceful
mother taught me how to make meals from cheap cuts like cubed steak and
giblets, and besides, I can live on the fat under my chin for at least a week.
Despite
these obvious skills, I’d get voted off “Survivor” and here’s why:
1. I never
shut up.
I’ll strike
up conversations with anyone, telling long anecdotes loaded with unnecessary
details.
Episode
Summary: I build a shed and start a roaring bonfire. While frying the fish I
caught, I tell everyone about the time my car broke down in Cincinnati. An hour
later, I’m still describing the mechanic’s coveralls, as a castmate stands
behind me, silently mouthing, “She’s outta here!”
2. I’m slave
to my digestive tract.
When
traveling, my intestines stage a sit in. There’s no escape, if you know what I
mean.
Episode
Summary: On day fifteen, I’m found beached like a whale, chewing palm fronds
for fiber, mumbling something about needing coffee. My tribemates, put off by
my deliriousness and mystified by my growing paunch, vote me out that night.
3. Conflict
makes me cry.
Having a
sadistic older brother taught me that tears are the best way to avoid a fight.
Episode
Summary: I’m telling a story about a blind date I had with a guy named Jethro,
when one tribemate screams, “Nobody gives a crap, lady!” Enraged, I
pathetically burst into tears. Sensing weakness, my tribe votes me out.
4. My
penchant for scavenging.
The dumpster
diver in me is compelled to scan beaches for shells, critters, flotsam and
jetsam. If it washes up, I’ll take it home, glue it onto something, or eat it.
Episode
Summary: After hours of beachcombing, I find a washed-up fishing cooler I’m
convinced will make a perfect camp latrine. Tribemates, suspecting I’ve been
searching for the Immunity Idol, vote me out.
5. I look
gross in a two-piece.
Wobbling
excess flesh started and ended with Richard Hatch. Nowadays, you could bounce a
quarter off most Survivor contestants’
stomachs. As for me, birthing three large babies has turned my formerly
mediocre figure into something of an old deflated inner tube.
Episode
Summary: Jeff Probst announces the start of the obstacle course. While my
tribemates are propelled by sinewy muscle, I am slowed by a bouncing gut and an
unsupportive bikini. Crawling under a set of barriers, my top snags on
something and is ripped off. The cameras zoom in on what looks like two fried
eggs. The vote to cast me out is unanimous, and the director cuts the obstacle
course scene as not suitable for viewing.
Now, I’d
better go empty the dishwasher.