Chris Nuth’s Blog Entry #1

They say that tragedy plus time equals comedy. I hope this is true, because the last two weeks of my life have been tragic. I have watched 4 seasons of Survivor, back to back to back to back, and probably a little front in there too. I’m completely obsessed with the show. I had never seen it until two weeks ago, and now the floodgates are open. Even though I’ve read the Wikipedia page and had the winners spoiled for me, I still obsess over the show. Like most cultural phenomenon’s, I’m playing catch-up. I was never the kid that had the newest toys, or knew what people were talking about when they traded Pokemon cards. I’d probably be cool if I had this blissful ignorance on purpose, but in reality I’m just lazy. My laptop has spent so much time on my lap playing Survivor DVD’s I think I need to buy it dinner.

My love of Survivor has taken over my life. I do my tribal dance during the credit sequence, where the rhythmic drums and beats inspire me to wipe the goldfish crackers off my half-naked body and do 1 minute of white person cardio dancing. I cheer when my tribe wins, and cry in shame when they don’t. I eat pizza in front of the screen, pretending they can see me eat while they starve. I have dreams of how I might win the next Survivor competition. I dream of a post-apocalyptic Survivor game, where the show takes on a Sci Fi twist and one tribe is full of mutants. I dream of being a survivor on the island from Lost, and I’m in an alliance with the Smoke Monster. I dream so much because I take Ambien CR, which really fucks my shit up, to put it delicately.

I went to the store yesterday and bought some flint with a machete. I want to learn how to start fire in the wilderness, with nothing but myself, nature…and a machete with flint. Still, I want to train myself to be the ultimate survivor, and join the show after I graduate and become the victor! I will have to sacrifice my beloved carbs and sugar, eating only coconuts and rice to train my body in the ways of dangerous malnutrition. I must learn to spear fish, and kill them without having handiwipes to clean my hands. I also want to learn parkour because it looks cool, and might help me in obstacle courses. Parkour can also help you run from the police.

My normal life is being affected. I call my comedy group members my tribe. We are the Pagong tribe. I form alliances with girls, I don’t “date” them. I win Reward challengers by going to class, and the prize of pizza fills my belly. I sleep in a sleeping bag, on a king size bed that is kinda springy, so it’s just like roughing it in the wildness. I listen to tribal music on my Ipod, and throw spears of celery into the trash instead of making myself a salad. I ran outside in the rain to simulate monsoon conditions, and I tried to build a hut out of falling tree debris. I killed someone the other day, to win my immunity challenge that my dog told me about. Now I can’t get voted off this island…this island called America!

Whoa, sorry I really lost it there for a second. Anyway, yeah. I got addicted to Survivor like it was heroin. Delicious, tary heroin. And now come the withdrawal, as I must focus my efforts on the serious class work that I have to do in my Stand Up Comedy Class and my Philosophy of Star Wars Seminar. Deadly serious class work. And if I give these last two weeks some time, they just might stop being a tragedy and turn into delicious heroin. No, comedy! I meant comedy. I had no idea what to write about for this blog entry.