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August 29, 2005
Swimming Is For Assholes
OMFUCKINGG, the swimming competition.
Then, I’ll get to the dumb ass Simon Says.
So for swimming, if you noticed, we were all totally GUNG HO about putting Charla’s ass in the pool, meaning, that for the entire day I was feeling wonderful about the prospect of NEVER HAVING TO GET INTO THAT POOL.
Time passed. Events were going on. Omarosa, Trishelle and Bob Guiney were interviewing people. The weird ass craft services was floating around. Guess I’ll eat this hamburger patty with this weird rice and this packet of ketchup. Directors and camera people kept feeding us the 7UP Plus and shit.
And Will Big Brother and I discussed important issues like whether or not Britney Spears could make a comeback while we lounged in our locker room. We shared the same issue of US Weekly for days. That's a lace-front weave, umhmm. Dude, what is my agent doing -- SHE got that job, fuck. Bitch, with all that money you could totally hire someone to get your fucking stomach together. That's a wig. Damn, we need better publicists, we couldn't get onto that red carpet? You know, business as usual when "reading" a tabloid where somewhere between excitement and humiliation, we face the facts and realize we're so not famous -- even as we film a TV show that's based on the fact that we're kinda famous but not really and ooh isn't it fun to see how desperate we are! Hard to explain, hilarious to live out.
I looked up, mid-afternoon and Coral had disappeared.
What?
She reappeared a bit before the swim competition and says, “Yo, you have to swim…”
I was like, “I don’t like to swim. We’re never going to win.”
Just then, the wardrobe girl pops in and says, “Does this one fit you?” and she hands me a big ass ugly one-piece and I’m like, “But, but…”
Coral replied, “Yeah, well, you have to swim because I …”
Cutting her off, I screamed, “WILL DIE IN THE POOL!”
She agreed and we laughed and I was like, “But Charla…”
Well, it turns out that Charla was EXHAUSTED. That’s all I was told. I couldn't really do anything about that. How am I going to look begging for an out of a swimming competition and pinning it on a fucking little person that’s exhausted? Um, not cool.
So I was like, “I’ll swim but nobody expect any fucking victories.”
Everybody was just happy I agreed to do it. I had no choice really. Coral’s black ass was not getting in that water. And if I said no, it’s not like there’d be any team controversy. The only person who’d care was Adam Mesh because he really cared a lot because he’s a dude and he’s competitive and he wanted that money for a really good reason that I found to be endearing. Everyone else was like OH FUCKING WELL, it’s Battle of the Network Reality Stars. The cash prize isn’t even as much as the real famous people got paid just to appear in 1817 so whatever. The other prize is a trip to Silverton in Vegas and that’s not even Google-able so fuck it, let’s just have fun and wait until Nikki McKibbin leaves her purse unattended so we can dig in it.
So, at the pool, the swim instructor pulled me aside and said he’d noticed me in the water the day before during the joust. He said, “Yesterday after you fell in the water, you said you couldn’t swim. Can you?”
I had asked someone to just come into the water and drag me out because I was already tired from jousting for three and half whole minutes thank you very much.
I said, “It’s not my favorite, but I’ll do it for you…”
He then spent ten minutes telling me how to get into the water exactly and then how to move my arms and feet. I got the basics of that, but it’s not like I like swimming. I’ll swim for survival but that will never have to happen because I don’t plan on being in a plane crash where I survive long enough to have to swim the Pacific Ocean until I find the shore. I’ll swallow five big gulps of salt water before I do that. Yes, I would give up and if that’s considered suicide, sorry Jesus. I don’t swim. I can’t put my face under water without having a panic attack. I need a nose plug.
By the way, I asked for a nose plug. They sent a PA to get one but he couldn’t find one in all of Thousand Oaks so they gave me a big ass pair of goggles that the swim instructor suggested I should not wear.
My boyfriend was on a Jet Blue flight from LA the night this episode aired and watched it even though we have a special arrangement about me and NOT watching me on my shows. That's right, I said it. Shows plural. He couldn't wait to clown me.
He was like, "Babe, you were hunched over ready to get into the water nine years before they blew the whistle..." He said the entire plane was sleeping and he and his business partner were hooting and hollering, cracking up at how stupid I looked.
Thanks BOYFRIEND.
Besides, I was swimming against fucking nine Survivor “hunks”, a tall ass singing bitch (lung capacity, thank you) and 12 others who KNOW HOW TO SWIM because they had good parents and family vacations and shit. I, personally, was cracking up when they showed the entire screen of all four lanes and I was nowhere to be found. Hilarious. So disappointed that they didn’t show Omarosa interviewing us on the bench post swim. That’s when I handled her fresh-out-the-bag weave. You also missed Coral giving a shout out to all of Long Island and Shorty and Mercy after that interview, so sorry y’all.
BIG UPS LONG ISLAND WOOT WOOT.
Now, let me talk a little something about this here Simon Says.
I still believe I was wrongly pulled out of the game (not really, I sucked). All I do is listen!
My biggest pet peeve in life, just because I’m 4’11”, is being picked up. I’m small but I’m a grown ass woman. I’ve met people that totally pick me up when they meet me and it is then, and only then, that I have to be rude.
PLEASE DON’T PICK ME UP. I’M A WHOLE PERSON HERE!
Coral’s always been on standby to say, “She hates being picked up…” right as someone is about to do it. We can usually tell who the picker uppers are.
But Jimmy Walker picking me up, I guess, was just part of the fun of shooting this show. I didn’t get stank about it because he’s fucking Jimmy Walker. I once saw him perform stand-up to a crowd of 12 in a tiny town called Brandon where I went to high school in Florida. I was just happy he was getting his job on. Yo, work is work. Good for him.
As far as the vote-off goes, Red Team doesn’t give a shit about voting off. And it makes it that much easier when people are straight up volunteering. During a vote-off, it’s best to just sit there quietly until you are forced to speak up about who and what and why. By then, people will have volunteered and wine before beer, you’re in the clear. Which is exactly what happened here. I totally did not want to lose Duncan Nutter. Dunc Nut is the shit. My invitation for him and all his children to come swimming in my boyfriend’s pool is still open. (I just look at it, by the way…) And if anything, it should have never been Charla. It should have always been Mirna, but shit, them’s the breaks.
Finally, there’s no way in hell Charla would have smoked me in that swimming competition. Is there? Really? If so, I’ll be hot damned.
Regardless, really funny episode in my opinion.
P.S. Because I'm vain, I was totally excited to hear my first and last name come out of a contestant's mouth. Someone knows my last name? So cool, for some reason.
Posted by melissah at August 29, 2005 12:42 AM