Survivor spoilers coming up in the next few paragraphs, so if you haven’t seen the last show, you may want to skip down past the little sun. That said, I’m not completely disappointed that Tina won. I think I would have liked it better if Colby had won, but compared to the original, where I desperately did NOT want Kelli to win, I would have been happy either way this time. I don’t like that Tina backstabbed Mad Dawg, but I have to say, that’s the only thing I’ve truly disliked about Tina. Well, that and her spending so much time telling Colby that she’s never really contributed financially to her family, that her husband’s always been the breadwinner. Rumor has it that she comes from a wealthy family, and her husband makes a pretty penny. We finally got around to watching the reunion show (it started at 9 pm our time, so we had to go to bed and tape it instead of staying up ’til 10) last night, and it just KILLS me to ever ever say anything nice about Jerri. Y’all KNOW how much I hated her and did a happy dance when she was voted off, but I must say that even with everyone saying mean things about her every 10.2 seconds (fully deserved, of course), it was amazing to see that it didn’t get to her. She laughed every time, didn’t get bitchy or uppity, and I have to say, that’s probably more than I would have done. And I did feel sorry for Debb, although I didn’t care for her, and think that she should have known that her life would be ripped apart and scrutinized to death. When I’m on Survivor 45, y’all will say nice things about me, right? Uh…right? Oh, which reminds me. They’re talking about doing a celebrity Survivor, which just REALLY ticks me off. I don’t want to see friggin’ CELEBRITIES on Survivor. If I wanted to see Kate Hudson cavorting around in a bikini, I’d go to the freakin’ movies. Gah. So. I almost passed out in the shower this morning. I got back from my walk (7 miles, thankyouverymuch) and sat down in front of the computer to read email and putter around. Once I cooled down sufficiently, I went to take my shower. As I was sudsing up my hair, I noticed that my arms felt really, really weak. A few seconds later, I realized that I was seeing big black spots in front of my eyes and they were getting bigger. I sat down and put my head between my knees as Miz Poo chirped and talked at me from the other side of the shower door. When the threat of passing out passed, I rinsed my hair and body and got out of the shower, dressed, and sat back down at the computer. I tried drinking a bit of water and felt better for a few moments, until I stood back up. I walked over to the couch and laid there for 15 or 20 minutes, Miz Poo attending me. I felt better again and stood up to go blow-dry my hair, and immediately felt worse. Light-headed, slightly nauseous, weak limbs, rapid shallow breathing, and I was cold but sweating up a storm. I gave up on blow-drying my hair and went upstairs to call Fred and ask him what the symptoms of heatstroke might be. We talked for a few minutes, decided I might have low blood sugar, and so I sat at the kitchen table to eat an orange. I would have preferred a candy bar, but unfortunately, we don’t got none o’ them ’round these parts. I hung up the phone, finished eating the orange and went to lay down under the covers. I snoozed for about an hour and woke up feeling much better. Once I ate lunch, I felt completely better. I’m guessing that from here on out I need to carry an orange with me to eat at the halfway point so this doesn’t happen again. If it never happens again in my life, it’ll be too soon for me. Not a pleasant feeling, at all. We watched Footloose this weekend. Fred and the spud watch movies every Friday, Saturday and Sunday – it’s a tradition, their bonding time, if you will – and occasionally I join them. I brought my book to the living room with me, figuring I’d just watch my favorite parts and read during the rest. Instead, I watched every damn moment of it. When, I ask you, did Footloose get so freakin’ cheesy? When it came out in the theaters, I was a Junior in high school, and I saw it at the theater SEVEN times, each time loving it more than the last. I SO wanted to be Ariel, wanted to do the thing at the beginning of the movie where she rides down the highway with a foot on her friend’s car and a foot on her boyfriend’s truck, going 70, with an 18-wheeler coming at them. Instead, I found myself thinking "I wanted to be THAT? Why, she’s just a skank ho!" ("skank ho" being my new favorite expression) I spent much of the movie cringing, especially the part where Ren drives to the abandoned whateveritis with his cigarette and beer (um Ren, where’d you get that beer? They don’t allow dancing, but they’ll allow minors to purchase beer, is that it?) and breaks out the dancing moves. Cringe-worthy, that. We spent a good part of the movie saying to the spud "When you are a stupid teenager, this would be something you WILL NOT do." Thus ensuring that she’ll go out of her way to do it, I’m sure. Speaking of the book I’m reading – Disobedience, by Jane Hamilton – I just passed a point where a character in the book claimed she knew 35 different words for breasts. Myself, I can only come up with 5. What does that say about me, I wonder?]]>