So last night Noah suckered me into watching the first two episodes of Survivor Season 64 (Hello, Free Primetime On-Demand!). As I've mentioned before, all the token players were there (Pretty Boy Doctor, Funky Blonde With Big Boobs, Manly-Tough Older Woman, Handsome African American Man, etc.) but I still was hooked.
I was intrigued by the Predictable Season Opener Twist in which the two tribes had to select a leader and then the leader had to pick who he/she thought was the best swimmer, smartest, strongest...etc. All based solely on appearances.
Naturally, I imagined myself in that situation, on a remote island being judged by how I look, and laughed heartily at the fools who underestimated me. "I'm a triathlete," I'd say smugly to the camera in one of my secret interviews after the Unnaturally Ripped Waiter bombed such-and-such portion of the immunity challenge. And then I'd play it cool, only revealing my secret awesomeness when advantageous.
I'm learning a lot about myself lately, it seems, besides the unfortunate realization that I still think like a fifth-grader (I'll show them who's boss! or, alternatively, You're not the boss of me!). For instance—and I can't believe I'm about to admit this—but I'm rethinking my stance on country music. I KNOW, PEOPLE. Well, at least female country music singers. It's just, that Taylor Swift is so adorable and sweet and talk about the set of pipes that girl has! And although it goes against so many of my principles, I even have a soft spot for Carrie Underwood.
This is all so unexpected.