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.