No, I’m not quoting Survivor: Philippines‘ Boobsy McMormon; I’m just picturing what we’d see if the editors ever cut to a cartoon x-ray of her skull to remind us she’s just so durn stupid!
I mean, sure, establishing an obvious “snuggle-with-benefits” relationship with another Survivor in the shelter at night (and then giggling with them all day) isn’t the smoothest way to hide an alliance. And if Probst asks what you’d change about your two-time loser tribe, “Cookies” might not be the best answer.
But then again, if someone who didn’t look like a mail-order sex doll gave that same answer, Probst might have interpreted it as a snarky, cagey evasion. And he certainly wouldn’t have treated Angie like a dog who just peed on the Tribal Council carpet if she wasn’t such a young, blonde, pontoon-chested flotation device.
I mean, true, she’s obviously no rocket scientist…but I can’t recall Probst shouting “WAKE UP!” at any of the numerous male bimbos in the show’s history. (And he’d best mind his manners when RC eventually winds up at Tribal, ’cause if he tries anger-clapping in her face, she’s gonna snap his girly wrists and feed his fingers to the lizards.)
But anyhow, what launched Snuggle-gate in the first place was an endless rainstorm that left most of the Survivors miserable and glassy-eyed — particularly Blair, who spends a good chunk of the episode moping off by her lonesome before coming to the (hopefully game-changing) realization that a cut-throat reality show may not be the best place to experiment with interpersonal growth strategies and psychic cleansing.
Meanwhile, Penner uses the camp-clearing downpour to continue searching for the Hidden Immunity Idol — a Survivor staple I’ve never been fond of (given the endless screen time devoted to seeking, finding, re-hiding and discussing the pesky things). On the other hand, I must admit the producers’ decision to stick ’em right on the rice bucket lids this time out was, indeed, a pretty righteous twist.
Eventually, the rain stops and Roxy thanks the Lord by speaking in tongues. And, yes, it’s super creepy.
Then, exhausted by all the glossolalia and claiming dehydration, the divinity student runs just one leg of the reward/immunity challenge, leaving the weaker, boobsier Angie to drag Matsing down to another defeat.
Russell takes the failure especially hard, while Roxy uses all the energy she saved by slacking off in the challenge to blast Angie’s attempts at snaring Malcolm in her “booby trap”.
And yet, despite the obvious strategic benefits of breaking up a couple alliance and keeping the stronger player, Matsing chooses dopey over crazy and gives Roxy the heave-ho in a unanimous vote.
* Speaking of crazy, RC may not be the strategic mastermind I thought she was after stumbling into the Bridget Fonda role in a Filipino road show production of Single Brazilian Female with Abi as the scary-ass roommate.
* Apparently Skupin only managed to slice off a tiny piece of himself this week, but next week: hoo-boy. At this rate, my wife’s predicting he’ll be just a head in a jar by the end of the season.