Wednesday, July 26, 2000

12:05 a.m. Ok. I'll try to churn this out the best I can. I will keep going back and correcting typos, or you would worry. I love the way I feel, but I don't want you to worry. I love you guys.

Ok. I'm, dieting, right? And it's the slow, soft stupid non-important middle of the week, right? And I don't know about you, but it's really been a slow day today. A day so slow, in the middle of what I know is a maelstrom, that I could worry if I had a brain ... but ...

... tonight is Survivor and I've got plans. I open some wine. I slice some tomatoes. I have those mozzarella balls -- so you know where this is leading, right? No food, reality TV, balls ... lots of wine ...

... all roads lead to Hollywood. You know that, don't you? I often think of cashing it in and giving up and going back home -- but what's the use? This place where I live? It's the center of the universe. No use in fighting it. Have another swig of wine. Wash your face. Hold your head high.

Survivor: I laughed, I cried. Really. I did. Tears running. Jenna's letters from home. Starving on rice. Let the wine flow. Let the good times role.

Big Brother: I watched, in spite of myself. I've been getting to know these people and I've begun to loathe some of them. Weak George, especially. I'd get rid of him first, then Eddie, the guy with a chip on his shoulder, and then ... it gets harder. I don't live there, after all. Maybe Josh -- he's too cuddly to be sexy.

I have a vote, but I know I don't count.

I live here, on the other side of the TV, worrying about my own reality-based sales that are currently under consideration. Here, on the other side of the monitor from you -- a person who's closer to the real world than I'll ever be.

I think I lost my real-world virginity the year we lived in Tina Louise's house, the year we cashed in on the O.J. Simpson tragedy. I don't know. Real people collide with the big slow-moving arc of the limelight all the time. It happens. It just happens that I saw it up close and I haven't been the same since.

I could sell out. I could tell you things. The only reason I don't is because I have this lousy sense of integrity and I think (swallow, gulp, sneeze, cough) that it would be wrong. I've seen things. I've cleaned up after important people. I'm keeping mum, although it's killing me and hurting my hit count.

And so I watch Survivor with ... well, have another glass of wine, dearie. Keep your mouth shut and let me see that pretty smile of yours -- there you go.

Arghhhh.