Shallow end of the pool

I’ve been hearing the debate all around the Internet about “hot guys and geeky women” and figure it’s about time for me to add my two cents. Yeah, I think it’s an interesting concept and I’d like to see the geeky girls have the opportunity to break out of their shells and realize what great and beautiful people they are. There’s just one problem: hot guys… are assholes.

Perhaps I’m basing my opinion on social stereotypes, but I honestly don’t think the interaction between everyone in the mansion would be nearly as positive. For as long as I can remember (and probably eons before that), men have been the aggressors in society—they’re the ones who are “supposed to get things done.” Men put food on the table, women cook it for them. Ugh. A hideous thought that makes me cringe, but it’s out there nonetheless.

Meanwhile, women have been trained to be the passive figures among the sexes. A lot of them are trying to break away from those stereotypes (God bless you all…), but the overlying idea remains the same: they aren’t given the same level of responsibility or expectations, regardless of their capacities.

Now transfer that into a limited environment. Say, seven pairs of people partnered up, one hot and dim guy with one nice and smart girl. Imagine what they’d all be doing inside the mansion: the guys would be bragging about their old football exploits in college while the girls take the time to really get to know each other. The girls would cooperate with the others when learning a task, whereas the guys would be butting heads the whole time. “I don’t need to worry about this shit—I’m gonna go tan by the pool and get pissed at my partner when she doesn’t win and keep us safe from elimination.”

I’m thinking about switching the genders for a couple of the challenges we went through and they don’t look pretty. During the fashion show, Caitilin was putting on the clothes that Chuck bought her and told the others, “Don’t say anything—I don’t want his feelings to get hurt.” Now put guys in that dressing room.

A: “I can’t believe she bought me this shit.”
B: “And now you gotta wear it in front of fashion designers!
C: “It’ll ruin your reputation as a model!”
D: “This is gonna be so funny!”
A: “Shut the fuck up!”

A huge fight ensues and the remainder of the fashion show features most of the hot guys with open wounds on their faces and knuckles.

The geeky women get a makeover, which I would personally love to see. Not because they’d be attractive-looking, but because they could look in the mirror and see themselves as attractive-looking. Perhaps they’d be like Chuck and feel kinda like a fraud—truthfully, so did I—but it’s still a strange feeling to suddenly blend in and catch the eyes of people who looked you over the day before. (Or perhaps you only thought they’d looked you over, but the feeling remains the same.)

But then what happens? The guys were supposed to show off their “inner stud” (another hideous thought that makes me cringe) and get as many phone numbers as possible. You guys already know how I felt about the challenge, but what would women do in the same situation? If they tried going around and asking for guys’ phone numbers, people would freak. Women are supposed to be the ones at the bar looking attractive while random guys are supposed to walk up to get her number instead. Sitting back and waiting for someone to approach isn’t exactly a confidence-building exercise, is it?

Perhaps there are more ingenious producers out there who could make a reversed-gender Beauty and the Geek work, but at this point, it’s beyond me. It’s not just an issue of finding people who fit the stereotypes and putting them all together in a big house with a hot tub. They need to find challenges that will stretch the contestants’ comfort zones, areas in which they aren’t familiar and have to take risks in order to win. Most importantly, they need to find a way for all of the people to interact. Having the geeky girls hanging out and getting along with one another won’t carry the show very far—you’ll still need hot guys who won’t be bumping their chests together or be at each other’s throats. You’ll need to find hot guys… who aren’t assholes.

why won’t this thing go off

hope everyone’s having a wonderful 4th of july. i’m having a great time celebrating except for the time i spent in the emergency room. sure, my parents told me not to play with matches or fireworks or anything, but who listens to their parents when they’re 28 years old.

so i was out on the lawn, lighting random stuff off, watching it blow up, making loud noises, setting small woodland creatures on fire—good times. but then one of them wouldn’t go off. the fuse shriveled down to nothing, then ‘pffft.’ nada. diddly-squat. ‘what the hell was that about,’ i thought. i paid good money for that whiz-popper banger thingie and i was gonna make sure it went whiz-pop-bang, dammit.

i decided to grab it and take a look at the bottom where the whiz-pop-bang should have started—i never made it that far. i got it to about nipple-level—thank god it wasn’t real close to my chest, ‘cause i’ve heard that singed chest hair smells really nasty… but like i said, i was lifting it up and KA-BLOOIE [HEY, COOL, CAPS LOCK]. the whiz-pop-bang started while it was in my hand and lemme tell ya, it stung a little.

so now i’m back at home in one piece. relatively speaking. i’ve got about 2 ½ … wait. 3 ½ fingers left. it’s hard to count when you don’t have any fingers to count on. i remember the good ol’ days when i could get to 10 without taking off my shoes… anyway, things aren’t quite as fun without any fingers—while driving home from the hospital, i tried flipping someone the bird and ended up kinda flopping my ring finger towards him instead. that was pretty lame, so i went and smashed his car into the median.

i want to make sure i’m done writing this soon in case the police find me, but i have to say, typing with your nose is a veeeery slow process. along those lines, i don’t think i’ll be sharing my love with you guys on tv anytime soon—i don’t have enough leverage to get real deep into my nostrils for any decent quality boogers. 2 ½ … no, 3 ½ fingers do that to a guy.

again, i hope you’re all enjoying yourselves today. i’ll probably be joining you in a little while—i just need to find a way to get this gooey stuff off my keyboard…

Ah, screw the Episode 5 recap

There’s too much to say and not enough short blurbs to describe it. If you want a more in-depth explanation of what happened (provided the WB people don’t come down on my head for spilling some off-camera beans), click the link and I’ll try to provide you all with some additional insight. Continue reading “Ah, screw the Episode 5 recap”

Close encounters of the second kind

Wednesday, June 29, 2005. Los Angeles, California. Several hours after shooting the reunion show footage. A bar called “Barney’s Beanery.” The men’s restroom. “Hey, I really like your show.” (I guess the second time someone recognized me in public was creepier than the first…)

I could barely hear in the bar because it was karaoke night. There was someone working the “stage” to ensure that people were signed up and “sang” in order. Using the blaringly loud sound system, she told the crowd (after identifying me amongst them) that she thought I should win because I was a Boy Scout. Her brothers were once Cub Scouts and did the Pinewood Derby (according to her, half the kids’ parents built their cars in that Cub pack…). Oh yeah, and continuing to yell into the microphone, she added, “The tent challenge was bullshit.” Meaning she saw the episode in which I was kicked off. Meaning I was really confused… and my ears were on the verge of bleeding.

I also got to see everyone from the show again—it was a good night.