The excitement of the opening event fades, the challenges are yet to begin. And so we settle into the day to day existence of life in captivity. It has all the downside of the state penitentiary, except that with 12 girls, a dude in a wheelchair, and a Gorean slavemaster, I'm less worried about bending down in the shower to pick up the soap. Although the wheelie dude does keep looking at me funny. Just in case, I carry my Death Duck wherever I go, but realize that whoever gave a steaming Starbucks to a man with absolutely no motor-control has sabotaged him more effectively that I ever could.
Before the boiling liquid starts to fly, I change into my boardies, and head out to the hot tub. Along the corridor, I try to talk Lillani out of her black catsuit. But that zipper's stuck faster than a sesame seed in a cavity. Besides, she's occupied by her devoted followers, who arrive with fully- built shrines to worship at her altar.
Out on the beach, I ease into the steaming bath, and imagine the stench of 15 unwashed avatars evaporating away. I'm joined by Lorita, an artist from Norway, and - goddam, when you get right down to it, there's absolutely nothing funny I can write about Norway, so insert your own gag here.
She claims she's a tattoo artist, and her skin wears a story I wouldn't mind reading. One chapter a night, serialized, until I get to the big bang ending. Preferably in braille, brushing her plot points with my fingers. Then I notice her belly ring and say aloud the word "Diva", and then....
..as if like a Genie, The Diva appears. This is a girl who knows what she wants and exactly how to get it, and amongst the sneaking, backbiting and sabotage going on in the house (Yes, Warda, I'm talking about you defacing my posters), I'm beginning to see that her "what you see is what you get" strategy is the most honest of all. And definitely the most picturesque.
In desperation of relieving the futility, I jump from the tub and streak through the house naked, conveniently forgetting to capture a snap. So here I am after, in my Chicken Gideon outfit. It's a cheap tactic for cheap laughs, and maybe cheaper votes. I scream "I'm An Superstar™, Get me out of here!!" but Big Brother isn't listening - he's plotting the challenge that will make our lives hell in the hours to come.
More to come.
COME VOTE FOR ME, YOU SUCKERS
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Jeez, how do you get to Big Brother Island? I've been wandering around in Second Life lost. If you see a confused-looking blonde with a big butt, that me.