mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- IC #1 I had received word that I was going to be on the next installment of Diary Survivor, and I was as excited as all get-out. Months (okay... days) of preparations were made so I wouldn't look like a total dufus on that hot, sunny tropical island. I went on a crash diet (the "10-48 Hollywood Diet." They don't tell you on the commercial that it is basically a big bottle of Ex-Lax). I started exercising. I cut my hair to look kewl. I did about a million stomache crunches that only gave me a six-pack under my big flab of a belly. Like that old junior high joke "I'm naked... under all of my clothes," I was looking HOT under all of my chub. The instructions said to go to Lambert Intl. Airport in St. Louis to meet my Survivor representative. She was to be at the airport's Starbucks. I got there a little early, but she was sitting there patiently. She was a gorgeous girl, and I wished she wasn't a part of the game. When I sat down to introduce myself, I looked closely and could tell she had a bit of Asian in her. She didn't say much. She just handed me a cup of mocha. I love mocha. How she knew, I couldn't figure out. It was quite good. I downed it within 4-5 minutes. It was already at that temperature that wasn't too hot nor too luke-warm. Just the right temperature to guzzle. After that, it was a little weird. I don't recall what else happened. Things began to fuzz, like your Direct TV satellite reception does when it begins to snow and ice. Pretty soon, I decided to let her lead me around. The excitement. I'm getting faint from the excitement, I thought. And then... fade to black. I woke up. I was staring at the ceiling of what I imagined was a wood cabin. I was incredibly comfortable, like I was in a womb. I was warm. Things were quiet. I was wrapped up in something. Panic struck. I did everything I could to get out of the entrapment of whatever it was that was keeping me still. It was a mixture of confusion, anger, and clostrophobia. I finally got out and saw fifteen other people still asleep -- no doubt a product of their own cups of mocha -- and I briefly wondered what that mysterious girl at Starbucks may have done to me while I was out of it. I smiled. I looked around to get a hold of my surroundings. I saw on the wall a map with a big, red circle drawn around something. It was a map of Alaska, and the circle separated a tiny island off the coast of Pt. Barrow. "You are here," the map said. It was cold near the wall, so I walked back to my fellow cast members who were all sleeping soundly. Everyone's sleeping bag (sleeping bag! I was in a sleeping bag!) was different, each having an aspect of their personality emblazoned on them. The person who was sleeping closest to my position was Mariel. Right under her head was a picture of Mr. Darcy, facing up, so when she went to bed she could look down, and he would be looking right back up at her. It then hit me.. I knew Mariel. Saw her in Gerbes last week. Been in her house. Pet her dog. It was good seeing a familiar face. Tickle-me-bb was the next one I went to see. She was different from everyone else. She was laying in a different direction... upside down. I figured she had something different from the rest of us that she would let us know when she woke up. She had a picture of some random-looking guy on her sleeping bag. Again, he was facing up at her. Her boyfriend, perhaps? Beats me. Racer96 was the next person I came across. He was laying outside of his sleeping bag. And it looked like he was comfortable! Then I saw a big, red maple leaf on his sleeping bag, and I suddenly remembered that Canadians keep their houses at -2. The next person in line was Kitchen Logic. She was a bit older than everyone I had seen so far. She had pictures of two boys on her bag -- her sons, I had imagined. She looked very kind and motherly. Like a Mrs. Cleaver type. Very Stay-at-homish. I was looking forward to eating her fireside cooking. Throcky was next, yet another older woman. She had a purple sleeping bag and was sleeping with a smile on her face. She had pictures of Shakespeare, T.S.Eliot, and others on her sleeping bag. She was mumbling something about girls speaking of Michelangelo. TV-Zero was laying next. He had a big picture of Monica Lewinsky on his bag. Unlike the others with pictures on their bags, Lewinsky was about half-way down and facing side-wards. Tv-Zero had the hugest grin on his face. Malkavia was not sleeping with the rest of the group. I couldn't figure it out. But she kept saying "Fuck" in her sleep. Over and over. I looked over at All the rage and saw that he had a bunch of magazines imprinted on his sleeping bag. I thought they were for toilet paper or something, then I realized he was a pretty decent writer and also well published. Damn bastard. And then there was Confruzzled. She looked young, but I couldn't really tell. So, instead of risk some sort of arrest by looking at her torso area too much, I just passed on. I knew Lampshade would be a good friend of mine on the island. She is a lover of fine comfort food. Like me, she had pictures of food and recipes all over her bag. What do we have in common? A really good salad. Nothing better than a really good tossed salad (not THAT kind, sicko). Who is this with a sleeping bag decorated like a wedding dress? Her "Hi, my name is ______" button says her name is Jenistar. This either means that she is about to get married or is looking to get married soon. If the latter was the case, I think half of our bags would look like hers, though. Well... except for the guys' bags. LadeeLeroy's bag has a big picture of... Oh, my. Well, I won't go into detail. But I will say here that she is a fan of sex. Of hot, steamy, make-you-smell-funny sex. Let's just leave it at that. Mattu's bag is a representation of his perfect home. At his feet is a layout of nice hardwoord floors. The middle part of his bag is a collage of blues done beautifully. Up top is a stained glass ceiling that lets lots of light shine in. Quite beautiful! I wonder if he needs a roommate, or if he will find his One True Love on our cold, frozen island (stay away from the bears). The bag with the big picture of a cow on it belongs, of course, to Milkmaid. Who else, right? And finally... (thank God) Ravenword doesn't have anything designed into her bag, but she has two things resting on top: A Steven King novel and a sign-up sheet asking to rate her looks between 1 and 10. Me? I think she's pretty damn hott. Makes mental note to pursue her a la "Tao of Steve." That's all of them. After carousing through my fellow cast mates, they all seemed to wake up slowly. Each person reacts differently to the medication. None of us got sick, which is good. I still wonder if my mysterious drug-me chick is single. I have a feeling -- it is a hunch -- that she isn't. That's how it always is. All the good ones are taken. 11:43 p.m. - Wed., Mar. 6, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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