Searching For Signal: #183 - “Survivor: Nicaragua” - Episode 14

We start out with the traditional march back to camp after they’ve voted someone out (Benry), with folks stumbling along in the dark and looking like confused aliens. Sash pulls Fabio aside and tells him they sent Benry home because Benry was targeting Fabio. It’s all good. Fabio doesn’t care, as long as it wasn’t him or whatever his real name is.

We’re only two minutes into the episode before Sash can’t help but stroke his ego in a sidebar, going off about how he’s in control of this game. (Never mind that he’s thin enough to be used as wallpaper.) And by the way, Fabio’s going home next time. Now, could you carry me back to camp? Because I don’t have any muscles left in my body.

Fabio in a sidebar: “I think they believe that I’m more gullible and naïve than I am.” (Dude, they don’t think it, they know it.) He thinks it would be really funny to make the other folks go “What? I didn’t know Fabio was that smart.”

This is not going to happen in our life time.

Roll opening credits.

Folks get tree mail, and this is the one where they get a Sprint cell phone with snippets of family members wishing they were back home. (Wouldn’t it be fun, for once, for some disgruntled relative to say: “Would you mind staying on the island for a while? Our lives have been so much better. We’ll send your clothes.”) This means that everybody is going to cry when they see their particular significant others.

Everybody cries. (Side note: How did Danny manage to produce such attractive boys?) This is actually one of my favorite parts, but I can’t really make fun of it without people coming after me with pitchforks and burning torches, so we’ll just skip ahead, shall we?

Chase and Fabio, discussing the upcoming reward where the winners will get to go do something fun with their clean relatives. They both promise that the two of them and Sash should all go on the reward together, if one of them wins. Then a coconut rolls by and the conversation ends, because they can’t focus on more than one thing at a time. (Sounds of Jane giggling and then running back into the forest.)

Time for the Reward Challenge.

Jeff does some more shilling for the Sprint Evo phone, then explains that the winner will get to eat food and float down the coast of Nicaragua. Along with one of their loved ones. (Cue everybody bursting into tears again.) Bring ‘em out! So here we go with the emotional mini-reunions, with waterworks flowing, tight hugs, and the city folk thanking God that Survivor is not presented in Smell-a-Vision. (And it is extremely touching when Danny’s son keeps smooching him on the head.)

Several gallons of smeared mascara later, Jeff explains the challenge. The Survivors have to run across this little bridge thing, dive in some water, retrieve some puzzle pieces and bring them back to their relative, who have to spell out a phrase. (Danny will not be winning this, sayin.) In the end, Chase and his mom triumph.

Jeff tells Chase to pick one survivor to go with him. (Chase, and everybody: “Just one?” Because we know they always get to pick two. What up?) Chase picks Sash, which is fair, since Sash hasn’t been in quite some time. Then Jeff lets Chase pick another, setting up the drama. Chase picks Holly. (That sound you hear is Jane’s and Fabio’s last nerve snapping.)

Chase to Jeff: “What happens to the rest of them?” Jeff: “They will be taken and executed.” (Okay, Jeff needs to be funny more of the time.) Then Jeff goes for more drama: “Fabio, you seem upset.” (If, by “upset”, Jeff means sobbing hysterically at not getting to go, then yes, Fabs is a bit distraught.) Fabio calls out Chase for going back on his promise. Chase basically takes it, nervously picking at his baby beard. Then Jeff tells the losers to say bye-bye to their loved ones, so there’s some more ruined mascara. Then he waves the Sprint Evo around for a bit before handing it to Chase.

Cut back to camp, where Fabio, Dan and Jane go on a hate fest. They are none too pleased with Chase at the moment. Dan: “He’s done with us.” Fabio: “Even today we talked about him taking me.” Jane: [Snippet deleted by Bonnywood Manor censors] They are all convinced that Chase has just lost the money in the end.

Cut to the winners arriving at the riverside feast, where things are a bit happier. (Chase makes sure to capture the goings on with the Sprint Evo phone, just in case you didn’t realize he had one.) Then Chase, Holly and Sash decide that they are going to be the final three. (The relatives politely hover in the background. We don’t know how much they might have known when this episode was filmed, but we do know that surely there’s a Survivor assistant hiding in the river, ready to drown one of the relatives if they start to pipe up with some intel.)

Another side note: Chase’s mom is the first to break out the supplied champagne. This is important information to have should you somehow get invited to the Finale wrap party and need a drink.

Back to camp once more, where the losers are already sleeping when the winners come waltzing back home. As expected, there is a tense discussion between Fabio and Chase. Chase tries to be nice, but the writing is on the wall about Fabio being on the outs. Too bad that Fabio can’t actually read the words.

Time for the Immunity Challenge.

Jeff explains: They will be blindfolded, attached to a line, have to crawl over and under some sawhorse things, fondle a shield with some raised metalwork, grab bags of pieces, crawl back, then open the bags and put the pieces in the right place on a new shield. (Once again, there’s no chance of Danny winning. He’s barely moved an inch when the others are already at the other end, feeling and grabbing. Jane makes it back first, but it comes down to Fabio and Chase. Fabio wins Immunity. (Jane immediately whips off her blindfold and kills an entire flock of sheep with one withering glance.)

We cut back to camp, with Danny leading the way as the tribe staggers home. (Which will be the only time that Danny is first in anything.) Everyone congratulates Fabio, but you know they don’t mean it. (Sash in a sidebar: Fabio winning is the only thing that could have screwed things up today.) Danny lets everyone know that he’s completely exhausted. (Why? When has he done anything?) No one cares.

Well, maybe Chase does. He waits a bit then tells Fabio that “Dan’s done” and he should go. Fabio thinks Jane should go. Chase runs to Sash to share what Fabio is thinking. Chase pushes for sending Dan home, but Sash is on board with the Jane thing as well. Chase is apparently fighting a losing battle. To confirm things, Holly comes waltzing up with news that Dan and Fabio want Jane to walk through the creepy cemetery.

Lo and behold, here comes Jane. She tries to dig, and based on the trio’s hesitation and waffling, Jane immediately knows the score. She forces them to spill. Sash: “The truth is, we think you can beat us in the end.” Jane flips him off. (Love her.) Then she stomps away and has a small breakdown in a sidebar, hating on everybody, especially Chase: “If I was Chase, I wouldn’t show my ass back in Carolina.”

And it goes downhill from there.

Jane goes on a rampage, hissing at everybody and cussing their mommas. At one point, she takes a bucket of water and pours it over the fire. She makes sure of the damage by dumping another bucket on the wet ashes. “By God, I started it. I’ll put it out.” Which is true, she was the one who got the fire started in the first place. Holy cow. (And still love her. Me thinks Jane will and should get at least the fan favorite money in the end. Just sayin.)

Time for Tribal.

Jeff to Dan: “Crazy afternoon?” Dan: He starts to spill about Jane, then holds his tongue. Jeff prods him until he spills about the fire thing. Jane: “Can I have my say?” And off she goes, not holding back and trashing everybody, much to the delight of the giggling but mostly silent jury. And she hits all the right points, country or not. She babbles about the alliance, that Dan and Fabio were supposed to be next, and “that’s how Benry got voted off”. (Shot of Benry seeing the dawning of the Age of Aquarius.)

Jeff: “Let me ask the alliance in charge.” (Chase, Holly, Sash.) “If you vote out Jane, who’s next?” Chase: “Whoever doesn’t win Immunity.” Jeff: “So it’s Fabio or Dan?” Chase takes the plunge, asking Holly and Sash: “Would you guys agree with that?” They squirm, but they eventually do. Bold move.

Shots of the jury members nearly wetting themselves over all this action.

Jeff pushes hard for Fabio and Dan to pay attention to this. Why don’t you and Jane form your own alliance? Jeff to Jane: “What do you suggest to do right now?” Jane: “Us three vote Holly out. Chase and Sash have an Idol.”

There it is, right there, folks. Here’s your open chance to upset the apple cart. Will Fabio and Dan take it? Jeff keeps pushing them. (Personally, I think he’s still just as sweet on Jane as the rest of us. He wants her to stay. Fair or not, he does everything he can to convince Dan and Fabio.)

Time to Vote.

Jeff comes back with the tally? Anybody wanna play a Hidden Immunity Idol? Chase and Sash nearly knock each other over trying to hand over their little stick dolls. (It’s the last night they can use them, why the hell not?) Votes cast for Chase, Sash and Fabio will not count. Jeff opens the little wooden crockpot.

It’s Jane. Meaning Dan and Fabio completely deserve to go home next for not even trying to change it up, knowing full well that they are next. To her credit, Jane doesn’t kill anybody on her way out. (“Ya’ll have fun!”) Jeff, holding back his irritation, sends folks back to camp.

In the closing credits we see that Jane’s lone dissenting vote was cast for Sash. Sash? So even if Dan and Fabio had flipped, it wouldn’t have mattered. Was Jane, knowing that she was going home anyway, giving the finger to Sash and still looking out for her ex-buddy Chase by not casting a vote against him, or did she hit her head on the way to the voting booth?

Hmmm.

10 Things I Learned At Crate & Barrel Today

1. I clearly don’t make enough money in my life.

  What do people do for a living that are able to afford paying $150 for a simple white serving bowl with a single, tiny flower painted in the middle of it? I’m assuming that Michelangelo must have done the diminutive artwork, because otherwise there’s just no reason. And a coffee maker that costs $500? An ugly coffee maker that looks like someone just added a filter to my first-grade teacher’s head. After she died.

2. Wireless phones are the new black.

  Every single person in the store was talking on one. (Except me, of course. I politely chose to keep my communication device holstered, shoved into my jeans pocket where it would firmly remain during my visit, unless a startling but strangely-pleasant buzzing alerted my genitals that I had an incoming call.) I don’t think it’s right to meander around a store with a possibly unhealthy chunk of slim metal spewing radiation into my ear, babbling loudly about unimportant things that no one else wants to hear.

  Besides, you need to pay attention to what you are doing, which is, theoretically, shopping, and not analyzing footwear that this store doesn’t even sell, on the phone with your friend Brenda that hasn’t had a job since computers were invented. Do you see that towering stack of limited-edition cocktail glasses, signed by somebody in Sweden who might actually be important some day? If you knock that crap over while distracted with texting your boyfriend from three relationships ago, about tofu of all things, you are never going to make enough money the rest of your life to pay for the damages.

3. How have I lived my entire life without owning an appliance specifically designed to toast your individual miniature marshmallows so that your cocoa is just right while you watch polo being played?

  How? The shame is overwhelming. I am incomplete.

4. There are still actually people named “Muffy” in the world.

  At least I think that’s what her name was. Something like that. She might have been drunk, based on the application of her makeup. In any case, we became fast friends whilst perusing a display of enameled cooking tongs, trying to decide which of the 400 available colors would be appropriate after Labor Day. She babbled constantly. I grunted. Somewhere along the line I learned that she raises Berkshires. Or lives there. Something like that.

5. If you really, really like something, you can’t afford it.

  This scenario happened repeatedly: I would turn a corner, spy something incredible and moving, race up to fondle it delicately, envision exactly where I could place it in my home, timidly flip over the little price tag, and find myself staring at a figure similar to one I had paid for a semester of college.

  So I learned to not even bother with the most attractive things, because there was no point in setting myself up for that kind of disappointment. My mood-stabilizing medication can only do so much before we have to up the dosage. I only became intimate with mediocre and less-attractive things. Which also reminded me of college.

6. You would never know that the economy was in any kind of trouble based on the merchandise piling out of the store.

  Entire fleets of trucks were backing up to the loading dock, with service people scurrying about, transporting the 144 place settings that one of the Vanderbilts had personally picked out. CEO types were marching in the door, barking take-over orders into the phone in one hand, and waving their other hand at the 15 armoires that the Missus needed before the next meeting of the Society for the Preservation of Our Money.

7. The workers in this place can tell if you have money just by one look.

  I was constantly being shoved to the side by bustling employees who had noticed someone behind me with a higher credit-card limit. I was relegated to one of the new trainees, who didn’t know any better, and certainly didn’t know where anything was in the store. I had to assist her with another customer who was looking for the jewel-encrusted fondue prongs. She later asked me if I knew where the bathroom might be.

8. Rich people have a different accent.

  It’s not a real accent, by any means, merely something they came up with during their spare time when they weren’t working for a living. They also like to add extra syllables to words like “really” and “darling”. It’s completely annoying. Then again, if I had enough money to spend the equivalent of the entire national budget of Algeria on a shot glass, I might find it imperative to come up with my own language as well.

9. The checkout people don’t care for it when you buy multiple small items.

  Oh, they pretend to be all polite and everything, but they find it incredibly tedious to actually have to count things, especially lots of things that don’t cost very much. Sorry, folks. I can only afford these pointless tiny spoons over here, that one might use for ladling small amounts of caviar or feeding Barbie. So I’m going to give one to all of my friends and purposely leave part of the price tag on them so they can get the impression I shop here all the time. After all, it’s the Holidays, when people try to impress one another with their gift-giving, and we certainly have to uphold tradition.

10. Apparently it’s a social blemish to refuse a gift receipt.

  I told the little man at least three times that I didn’t need one. (They’re stupid little spoons. If they don’t work out, people will just throw them in the trash and then lie about the disappearance, claiming burglary or some such.) The little man made small, exasperated noises each time I rebuffed his advances. Clearly, this man was completely worn out, having dealt all day with people who didn’t have an ounce of couth.

  His little friend, the Gift Box Lady, was also troubled by the lack of a gift receipt. As she swathed each spoon in crackly packing materials and then shoved them in gleaming white boxes, she inquired on the status of the gift receipt for every single spoon, hoping each time that there would actually be one, and therefore the world could be a better place.

  Eventually, I was allowed to leave the establishment, despite my country ways and gift-receipt illiteracy. I trotted out the door, lugging a bag loaded with spoons, wrapped in boxes that cost more than the actual contents. Before climbing in my car, I turned and waved at Muffy, who was standing on the sidewalk and wondering why no one was bringing her another cocktail…

10 Reasons Why Assembling a Fake, Pre-Lit Christmas Tree Will Suck The Life Out Of You

1. The stupid box it comes in.

  As soon as you dump the various sections of the tree out of the shiny, new box, you might as well throw the box away. You are never going to get all of the tree back in that box. And as the years go by, you will be able to stuff less and less of the tree into the issued receptacle. This means that the “too big” sections of the tree risk being shoved behind something in the attic and never being seen again. Just get a bigger box.

  I do find it highly illogical that what came out of the box will not go back in. It makes sense that it should. Somebody got the tree in there in the first place. Then again, that someone was a little worker in Artificial Tree Land, and this person stuffs trees in boxes all day long. Probably hundreds of them, with a cute little counter that dings merrily every time they seal a box, perhaps even a cookie is served for every five boxes. These workers are certified in tree stuffing. There’s no way you can compete with that.

2. The absence of assistance.

  Your entire family can be lounging on the couch all day, watching pointless cooking shows where vibrant personalities whip up delicacies that no one in your house will ever make. But the second any family member gets a warning sign that tree assembly is afoot, every one of them will race out of the house, off to fake dental appointments or opting for that elective surgery after all. You will stagger down the attic ladder, the tree thumping behind you on each rung, to find a completely deserted house. Even the cat has gone on an impromptu sleepover with Tiffles the Tabby down the street.

  You are on your own. You will not see another soul until the advance scout in the bushes of the neighbor’s yard has used his walkie-talkie to inform all family members that the coast is clear.

3. Things don’t fit where they should.

  Stare at the little diagram all you want, but Point A will NOT fit politely into Ingress B no matter what you do or how much you proffer to Jesus during intense, sweaty negotiations. You will just have to use sheer force of will to ram the piece home, probably completely destroying any chance of the tree ever looking right again. It doesn’t matter. You just have to get through this session. Next year is a long way off. Perhaps there will be a divorce, and somebody else can deal with the violated tree. Or maybe a fire. A very concentrated fire that only destroys a certain bulging box.

4. The concept of “If one light goes out, the rest stay on!” is a complete a total lie.

  This is merely an unsavory sales technique developed by retailers who just want to move the merchandise and don’t care what happens to you once your credit card has been swiped and approved. One of the lights WILL go out, somehow affecting most of the lights on the tree, even though there are theoretically 20 strands on this thing. It will take you 7 hours to find this elusive bulb, mainly because you keep losing your place and/or get so frustrated that you kick the tree against the wall, stomp off, break something in another room, then finally give in and shuffle back to The Room Where Satan Breathes, waving a white flag and starting the search all over again.

5. The best way to determine which strands still need to be connected to the power source is to lie under the tree and gaze upwards.

  The is actually quite helpful, allowing you to see things from a new and exciting perspective. The negative aspect is that, once you pass a certain age, you may not be able to get back out from under the tree and resume a standing position for some time. My advice is to take a bottle of water and pillow before you head down under. You might be there for a while.

6. One miniscule turn-screw in the tree stand supposedly will keep the tree perfectly aligned.

  Another lie. Adjust all you want, loosening and turning and tightening. The tree is never going to stand up without a discernible lean. Accept your fate now. The longer you delay acknowledging the inevitable increases the chances of an adverse psychological reaction. You still have shopping to do, and don’t have time for therapy or possible court cases resulting from you throwing the tree out the picture window and accidentally nailing the UPS guy innocently arriving at your dwelling bearing a fox of Aunt Esther’s Peanut Fudge.

  Just tighten the screw all the way, and then rotate the tree until the angle of the lean is the least offensive. If necessary, hang the heavier ornaments on the side of the tree that is opposite the lean, creating an optical illusion that will hopefully satisfy your less-inquisitive relatives. Better yet, pay toddler cousins to stand inside the branches, hold the tree up straight, and not say a word unless they see Santa.

7. No one is ever fully satisfied with the fluffing.

  Yes, the tree has been mashed offensively during its 11 months in scorching confinement whilst crammed into the attic. You will have to do some repair work on the fake needles and smaller branches, even though there are thousands of them and reparative activities are only amusing for the first 3 needles or so. Do the best you can, but don’t overextend yourself in this area. It’s not a real tree. It will never pass inspection by Tree Survey people, should they stop by unexpectedly.

  Besides, no matter how much time you invest, there is going to be a gaping, unnatural hole somewhere on the tree. And this hole will be found by Aunt Flatulencia when she and her wrinkled nose stagger into the room, hopped up on brandied eggnog and rum cake. Just let her bellow whatever and keep mopping up the apple juice carelessly spilled by one of your cousin-workers in the middle of the tree. (Take the damages out of the little tyke’s  paycheck. He might as well learn now that there are consequences to your actions.)

8. It hurts.

  Granted, “real” trees have those aggressive needles that will slice you to ribbons when you attempt limb adjustment. But the fake ones have their issues as well. (Paper needles can be sharp, people.) And if you have a mature tree that has survived several seasons of your devil-inspired chiropractic maneuvers, there are bound to be little clusters of overlooked ornament hangers that went undiscovered during the security clearance last year (just before you shoved part of the tree into the box that’s supposed to hold all of the tree and threw everything back in the attic).

  These bits of twisted metal can lacerate an entire hand in a few seconds of stunning savagery. Proceed carefully. If necessary, ask someone that you don’t really care for to do a safety inspection.

9. The creatures of the night.

  Most cats consider Christmas trees to be their personal playground, refusing to acknowledge stern warnings from you that unappreciated feline merriment could result in a severe adjustment of treat privileges and continued living. Your furry children may pretend to behave whilst you are in the vicinity, but they will immediately launch at the tree the second your footsteps seem to be fading away. For a cat, there are just too many sparkly and dangly things for them to ignore.

  Nighttime is the worst. Things crash loudly and bizarre events take place. You may wake in the morning to find that the Baby Jesus is missing from the manger scene, replaced by a small ransom note with the imprint of a cat paw.

10. You will not be fully appreciated for your efforts.

  Once you finally have the tree in order, covered in scratches and dripping sweat, don’t expect a round of applause. Your older children might find the strength to utter “cool” while they continue texting with someone named Boner. Younger children will immediately race to the tree and destroy three of the most delicate and memory-filled ornaments, not understanding that this isn’t what they are supposed to do. (“But Mommy, you made me beat on that pinata for my birthday. Isn’t this the same thing?”)

  And your significant other? Well, as is written somewhere, if you put up the tree, then your spouse is most likely a Grumpy Christmas Person. (Rarely do two Happy Christmas People end up in couples, because that would be too much Hyperactive Yuletide Perkiness in one room for anyone to bear.) So don’t be surprised if your partner doesn’t even notice that there is now a dead tree where there wasn’t one just a few hours ago.

  But it doesn’t matter. The tree is up and all is good. Now go find that brandied eggnog so you can be prepared when the news comes about the abduction of the Baby Jesus….