Survivor Recap: Parvarti is Really Showing Me Something

(BOD - Adriana Lima)

After Danielle’s elimination last week, it was great to see Russell finally start to see through Parvarti’s charm and feminine wiles. For the first thirty days, he was blinded by the lustre of a ‘hot’ girl fawning all over him and telling him how smart he is. Now he’s beginning to see Parvarti as a strategic game player who will have no problem stabbing him in the back.

Russell’s thinking with his brain instead of his penis (I wish I could say the same. Little Tewks has been running the show in my body since Grade 8).

The reward challenge promotional tie-in with Sprint’s Palm Pre was excruciating to watch. You would think, after 20 seasons, the Survivor crew could be a little more subtle with these advertisements. I could have done without the ten minute segment that pretty much just extolled the virtues of a shitty-looking phone.

I’ve never understood why contestants cry and blubber so much when their family members come to visit. Maybe it’s because I lack human emotion, but they’ve only been gone for thirty-something days. Plus, it’s not like they are facing undue hardships; they’re on a reality show! Mama and Papa Tewks wouldn’t even show up for that challenge were I there.

How about Russell’s wife? Wow. I really want to dislike the guy, but his babe of a wife forever destroys that possibility.

Colby berating his brother during the reward challenge was beyond hilarious. Why was he so upset? The fact his brother was just laughing off Colby’s craziness made the entire situation that much better. I don’t know what’s wrong with Colby. He seems completely disinterested. He only lasted fifteen seconds in the immunity challenge (we’ve all been there, brother) and wasn’t even paying attention at Tribal Council.

Somehow, he’ll end up winning. He’s got to turn it on and become the Colby of old at some point, right?

Jerri not taking Russell on the reward was a HUGE mistake, evidenced by Russell’s ominous comment, “She’s in trouble now.” Hell hath no fury like a toothless man scorned.

I hoped Rupert was gone as soon as I saw the footage of him stomping around at camp while everyone was trying to sleep. I would have lost my mind. That is one of my biggest pet peeves. I require complete silence when I sleep. I can’t have some jackass sawing wood while I’m trying to get my beauty rest.

I hate to say it, but Parvarti is a force to be reckoned with. She is currently dominating the social and physical aspects of the game. She can’t be stopped, unless the remaining four pull their heads out of their asses and vote her out. However, her biggest competition in the immunity challenges (Rupert) is no longer in the game, so they might not get a chance to get rid of Parvarti.

How Sandra is still in the game and in a position of power is beyond me. She’s played a fantastic mental game, which makes up for her being completely useless in challenges. She’s a dark horse pick to win. She’s really been the only one who has been able to manipulate Russell without the benefit of T and A, which is an impressive feat.

Tune in on Monday for a podcast recap of the finale.

The Apocalypse is Near

(BOD - Marissa Miller)

Obviously, the big story of last night was Game 7 between the Penguins and the Habs. It was also the first game for my senior rep baseball team and I was given the opening night start. Not wanting to write an article about the game from a highlight package, I entrusted CSzem to produce his thoughts on the Habs' second consecutive Game 7 showdown.

I rarely big up my pitching performances on this blog, but last night was a game I may never be able to replicate. Scroll about halfway down for the details (Look for all the Ks).

I do have to warn you that CSzem's article is a self-congratulatory opus on the greatness of the Montreal franchise. I could barely keep my breakfast down whilst reading it. It's also filled with an alarming amount of hubris for a team that has more horseshoes than an 18th century blacksmith.

(Edit: I just received an email from CSzem bemoaning the fact he forgot to mention that the game was a sellout at the Bell Centre in Montreal and the game was played in Pittsburgh. He can go fuck himself)

Yesterday was a surreal day from start to finish. All of you obviously know where this blog post is going to finish – unbridled euphoria and as many “Ole’s” as Tewks is willing to include. But how did we get there? It was a strange trip to say the least.

Early in the afternoon, I received a text from Tewks explaining his predicament for being unable to give proper attention to the following day's blog post. At that point (approx. 7 hours before gametime), I happily agreed, albeit with the requisite forewarning that if the Canadiens lost, more than half my allotted words were likely to be F-bombs. But as the day went on and puck drop drew nearer, a very odd feeling came over me: It was the overwhelming realization that in a matter of hours, I was going to either be elated or completely devastated. And there was no in between. Just a really surreal thing to think about, since (at the time) my mood was completely non-descript.

Sidenote: I am very aware that I'm an over-the-top sports fan. I'm totally OK with this. Everyone who knows me has learned to put up with it, or just avoids being near me when something of note (specifically a Canadiens game) is taking place. But I've reached an odd level of self-understanding. It is not normal to feel the way that I do about the Canadiens. I have many incredible things in my life that should take precedence, but invariably, I'm affected time and time again. I've tried to "care" less. I can't do it. More often than not, I wish I cared less. Wednesday night made it all seem worthwhile.

The game started, and instantly it became very obvious that this was not going to be a "normal" night. 10 seconds in, Sid the Kid to the box. 32 seconds in, 1-0 Habs. What the hell just happened?? The game wore on, and I'll spare you the details of the first period and a half - or more specifically the girlish screams I let out after each successive Canadiens goal.

At 4-0, my phone was basically buzzing constantly with congratulatory text messages. Nothing upsets me more. Karma sucks, and playoff hockey games are 60 minutes long. Did the Pens look ready to continue their implosion? Absolutely. I mean, what the hell was Gonchar doing on the Habs’ fourth goal?? But they weren't going to bend over and just take it for three whole periods in the (possibly) last ever game at the Igloo.

Then they scored two quick goals, and the lead was down to 2. You`re going to have to give me a little latitude here (“very little”), and trust that what I`m telling you next about the Canadiens is true. They were going to blow this game. They DID blow this game. I watched it happen multiple times during the year. I honestly and truly watch every game they play (I own a PVR and pay for the Sports Package solely for this purpose), and I`d seen this movie before. Hell, it even happened against the Caps in Round 1 (Game 2)!

I began considering my two options (keep in mind this is with a two goal lead and only 22 minutes to play):

Option 1 – “Man Up”

I write the blog, as agreed. Obviously I have to discuss my disappointment, and try to convey how I feel after such a devastating loss. Was the playoff run still a success?? I would discuss the fact that we had a 13.5 game run, and then the magic ran out, but I have a team I love and look forward to next year.

Option 2 – “Fuck off Tewks”

I send the following text message: “No way in hell I’m writing your stupid blog after that. Fuck you. Fuck everyone.”

I`d like to think I would have gone with Option 1, but I highly doubt it.

But as you all know, a funny thing happened on the way home. Nothing happened. We killed a few penalties, picked up a PP of our own (by the way, there was no way in hell any “judgment” calls were going the Habs’ way at this point....fortunately the Pens committed the “penalty du jour” with 6 skaters), buried a goal, and laughed off into the sunset.

So now all that`s left is the euphoria. It`s there for sure.....but it`s accompanied by something I was not at all expecting: An insatiable desire for more. Before tonight, it had honestly never occurred to me that the Canadiens could actually win the Stanley Cup at the end of this. It felt like we were in some separate bracket that was just for our fun little story but didn`t really have any bearing on the rest of the playoffs. But now? Bring on Philly or bring on Boston! We have unfinished business.

OLE, OLE, OLE, OLE.....OLE! OLE!!

GO HABS GO!!

What the Fuck is a G20 Summit?

I swear I was in a good mood until dinnertime yesterday. I truly was. I had a nice day at the casino, had some laughs at the blackjack table, won some money, chilled with senior citizens on the party bus, but all of that went up in flames in a matter of seconds.

I came home, turned on the TV, and discovered that Roy Halladay’s return to Toronto has been bumped to Philadelphia because of security concerns with the G20 summit. So many emotions are coursing through my body right now, all of them a shade of unbridled fury.

I don’t even know where to begin my rant on this travesty. I can’t think clearly and I’m worried that the end result will be less cogent than usual. Let’s start with the fact that global politics are depriving Jays fans of three home games.

The title of the column is not a joke. I really have no idea what the G20 is and why they need a summit. Also, why is said summit taking place in Toronto? Off to Wikipedia for answers.

Apparently, the G20 is comprised of the leaders and finance ministers of the world’s twenty top economies. The summits are “forum[s] for cooperation and consultation on matters pertaining to the international financial system. [They] study, review, and promote discussion (among key industrial and emerging market countries) of policy issues pertaining to the promotion of international financial stability, and seek to address issues that go beyond the responsibilities of any one organization.

What does this mean in layman’s terms? The self-proclaimed masters of the financial universe find it necessary to meet, at the taxpayer’s expense, and jerk each other off in congratulations for being so fiscally fantastic.

They really need a three day summit to do this? Couldn’t they just set up a huge conference call on Skype? Or even Chatroulette?

The security needed for such an endeavour is immense. More than a few media outlets have noted that the downtown core of the city will be like a “fortress.” Residents living close to the convention centre will be forced to register with a security detail in order to gain access to their homes.

Why? So these heads of state can flaunt their massive egos at how important they are and that they have the ability to shutdown a major metropolis on a whim. If the security concerns are so great in a city, then we should send these white collar pansies to a logging community in the Yukon and they can sing Kumbaya around a fire in complete safety.

Of course, they’d never go for that because this summit isn’t really about economic policy, it’s about these guys pulling down their figurative money pants and seeing whose financial junk is bigger. They won’t be happy unless they’re eating five star meals and sleeping in beds with 10,000 thread count sheets.

Do you want to know something else that is completely ridiculous about this entire situation? The G20 is holding ANOTHER FUCKING SUMMIT IN NOVEMBER!! Are you serious? They have so much to discuss that they’re going to do the whole thing over again in South Korea in six months?

These summits are the epitome of governmental excess. We the taxpayers are forced to pony up so Stephen Harper can watch Generally Horny Hospital in his suite at night.

My thoughts on the efficacy of the G20 notwithstanding, I wouldn’t even be that upset if the Jays had a random three game series bumped for the summit, but this would have been the prodigal son’s return.

A chance for 40,000 Blue Jays fans to celebrate the great performances Doc has given us over the years; a chance for a loud and boisterous standing ovation to honour the greatest pitcher in franchise history; a chance to see the normally stoic Halladay shed a tear in appreciation for the city’s adoration.

Who knows when we will get that chance? There’s no guarantee Philly will be here next year. This June would have been perfect.

Plus, on a personal level, CSzem, Gretzpo and I had planned on celebrating Doc in a unique way. We were going to make a sign declaring us ‘Roy’s Boys’. We would have worn cut-off jean shorts, long wigs and aviators, all while having our chests bared for the world to see. An appearance on Sportscentre would have been guaranteed and, possibly, some acknowledgement from Roy as well.

Now, that is all for naught.

I hope the G20 summit is a giant, stinky turd of failure.

A Column Quickie

(BOD - Cameron Diaz; yesterday's was Sofia Vergara)

CSzem isn’t the only who can force himself into the good graces of the women in his life by a well-timed Mother’s day shout-out. I’m actually going to take things up a notch with my plans for this glorious Tuesday morning.

In approximately thirty minutes, I will be stepping onto a bus with Mama and Grandma Tewks destined for Casino Rama with fifty senior citizens born during the Depression. I literally have no idea what to expect. I’m setting the over/under at marriage proposals for eligible granddaughters at seven.

Not only do I get a full afternoon of gambling, but I also get a free buffet lunch. Are you kidding me? That’s amazing. I cannot wait till I get old. It will be a very smooth transition for me.

Thus, since the bus leaves so early this morning, today’s column will be an abridged version of my usual fare. Not wanting to leave my dear readers in a lurch, I made some quick notes on Game 6 of the Penguins/Canadiens series last night to satiate your appetites for my stellar writing.

The Canadiens leapt out to a 1-0 and what happened thirty seconds later? He Who Hits Bombs sent me the following text: ‘Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole!!!!!!!’ What a jackass. I’m being haunted by the fans of this overrated franchise everywhere I go.

All the talk about Montreal having the most knowledgeable fan base in the game makes me sick to my stomach. Not only do they use that stupid soccer chant, but I heard the crowd start a ‘De-Fence! De-Fence!’ during Pittsburgh’s first power play. What is wrong with these people? That’s a basketball cheer. This is hockey for Chrissakes.

Bob Cole is just fantastic. Playoff hockey is great to watch, but having Cole announce the games is like pouring maple syrup on a stack of fluffy pancakes. The inflections in his voice when something big is about to happen is just magical. I don’t know what he did over the past couple of years to regain his top form, but he sounds like he could call games into his eighties.

Lapierre’s goal was gorgeous. I have to give credit where credit’s due. He looked like a young Tewks terrorizing house league games fifteen years ago.

The pace in the third period was fantastic. Back and forth action by both teams. Team allegiances aside, the Penguins and Habs have provided great theatre through six games; maybe it’s fitting that Pittsburgh will win Game 7 at home.

(Do you see what I did there?)

I’m off to win some cash. I fully expect to have a comped suite by noon. I might never come back.

Talkin' with Tewks Live

With my unparalleled powers of persuasion (how else am I able to seduce women into the boudoir?), I was able to coerce CSzem into recording another podcast on the NHL playoffs even though Les Habitants appear to be on their last legs.

Not only did we dissect each second round series thus far, but we have a discussion on Dallas Braden's perfect game yesterday afternoon and how happy A-Rod must have been to see the highlights on television. Also, at the end of the podcast, we talk about what's on tap for the rest of the summer in terms of blog coverage.

There is lots of stuff happening and the twenty minutes will just fly by. Enjoy.

Talkin' with Tewks Live - NHL Playoffs

As I teased in the man-cation review podcast last week, Gretzpo and I recreated the epic beach run scenes from Rocky III while we were in Cuba. I've been hard at work mashing clips together from the actual movie and our 'Blair Witch type' footage.

Considering I am a moron when it comes to computers, I actually think it turned out fairly well. Remember, I am playing Apollo Creed and Gretzpo is playing Rocky. The reasoning stems from our Pueto matches. Gretzpo has power, but lacks fitness and speed. I have it in spades, evidenced by my victory in six matches.

Therefore, I (as Apollo) am trying to train Gretzpo (Rocky) how to Pueto like me.

"You Pueto great, but I'm a great Pueto-er."