Last Thursday evening, as I do every night before leaving work, I doffed my jockstrap, rinsed it in the sink, and left it hanging on my office doorknob to dry. The next morning I came in, and what was lying in a damp heap on the floor? You guessed it, my jockstrap. About ten minutes later, who walks by but my next-door-office neighbor, Dalton Ross. Or, as I now call him, “my deadliest enemy ever.” Does Johnny Jockstrap Knocker-Over not think I see right through him? It insults me that he thinks I’m so dumb that I won’t realize that this was not the act of one of the many, many people who walk past my office door and could easily have accidentally brushed past my undergarment. No, Ross, I know it was you. And if you want to play dirty, you’re gonna get something else. By which I mean that for the next three days at work I am going to talk about nothing but my crazy unfounded grudge against you for doing something completely innocuous, something that you probably didn’t do anyway. Advantage mine!
Oh, Christy and Kelly: When they suspected Starr knocked Christy’s sports bra off a hotel ledge, it was the dumbest motivation for a blood feud that I’ve ever heard. This is a story line that would be rejected by The Hills for being too superficial. After two weeks of watching The Amazing Race and listening to Christy and Kelly talk about what jerks their ex-husbands are, I’m now starting to get the other side of the story. What were the ladies’ grounds for divorcing their spouses: cruel and unusual sock losing?
It’s hard to believe anyone could race with Sportsbra-gate hanging over the game, but race they did, jetting to Bolivia. To quote every Big Brother contestant ever, it was “game on!” Especially for Sarah, who finally had the realization that every team was out for themselves, and “This is not a popularity competition. It’s actually us against the other teams.” Who filled her in on the definition of “race”? Here are some other epiphanies that will dawn on Sarah during the race: Santa Claus isn’t real; those rave reviews in the ad for Beverly Hills Chihuahua aren’t exactly from the best critics; and Las Vegas isn’t a nonprofit entity.
When the teams jetted to Bolivia, they immediately had to sleep outside to wait for their clue. In the morning, the cameras seemed to take a perverse pleasure in catching the women applying their makeup, though we did not get to see Tina etch on her eyebrows. I have a feeling that is a process that involves industrial waterproof markers, a protractor, and a welding torch. It was odd to see Kelly drawing on or at least darkening her beauty mark. If she and Starr ever end up nose to nose, poised to fight, I would love to see Starr very slowly lick her own thumb, reach over, and slowly rub off Kelly’s fake mole. Oh, the bloodshed that would ensue!