This week,Coming East wrote about her “Anti-Bucket List” – about all the things she would never want to do.
The first thing that popped into my head was that I didn’t want to eat any bugs.
Because I don’t care to ingest insects, I guess I would not be a very good candidate for “Survivor”.
I guess if I were starving I would eat a bug. But why would I ever want to be starving? For a TV show?
No “Survivor” for me.
I don’t care to eat bugs. Nor do I care to have them eat me. Have you seen the bug bites on Survivor contestants?
And I wouldn’t want to play tackle football in the mud. Or stand on a ladder-thingee until my feet cramp up.
Most of all, I won’t give up my contact lenses, my hair dye, my blow dryer, my mousse, my concealer and mascara, my iron, clean panties, high heels, and cable TV. And my tweezers. And I need a hot shower every day with moisturizing soap, and bristle-free armpits, and perfume. I don’t like my own body odor much, and I detest anyone else’s. I want to brush and floss and I want everyone else to brush and floss. I want air conditioning if it’s hot and a nice fireplace if it’s cold. And I am extremely picky about my coffee.
I’m very good at puzzles like the ones they’re always doing in “Survivor”, but it also appears that you have to wear a bikini during puzzle-making. My bikini days ended in 1984.
They usually shoot those shows someplace very sultry – the better for bikini-wearing, I guess. Blue water and white sand. Palm trees. And I am so ready for a tropical island. I need a vacation.
And I can do it.
I get on the show with a fantastic video audition. I will inspire them with my triumph over my mysterious illness (I’ll come up with a good one), and then show them a few of my Zumba moves.
Once I get there, I pull the old switcheroo. I act so obnoxious my tribemates will be screaming to get rid of me.
But can a woman as sweet as me be obnoxious enough? Oh yeah. Just ask my older sisters.
I’ll do my nails while the other guys are building our shelter. I’ll use the drinking water to clean my hairbrush. I’ll request a gluten-free diet. I’ll flash the youngest guy on the tribe. I’ll let it slip that I have a bad heart. I’ll ask everyone to please not pee in the ocean. All in the first day.
I’ll cry. (That strategy worked with my sisters.)
And my tribe will throw the first challenge just to get rid of me.
And I’ll spend the next 38 days back at the hotel. I’ll bask in the sun and drink margaritas and wait for the starving bug-bitten dirty smelly winners to finish up.