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December 26, 2006

Gideon does Big Brother - Part One

By the time you read these words, it will be over. Degenerated into bloody farce, with accusations of cheating, blackmail and vote rigging.

But this was before. This is my diary from inside the Big Brother house. Fifteen avatars locked up together, 8 hours a day, making virtual history. And I was to be one of them.

Like anyone really cared....

Assembling before showtime, I get my first look at the degenerates into who's faces I'll be getting. 12 girls and 3 guys. Let's pause for a moment to do the arithmetic - four menage-a-trois, plus substitutes on the bench, and as any geek will tell you, you can't have too many backups. But, as with all quadratic equations, life is never that simple, and the chilly breeze wafting across the island makes me think this will be no Temptation Island.

As I walk down the red carpet, fans cheer support, but not for me. It seems that while I spent my last week of freedom at the Ready or Not Club, my fellow competitors have galvanized their fanbase. Already I'm beginning to realize that without a radical strategy, my days are numbered, and that number is 7. I make my way to the balcony high and make ready to grin sweetly. And then - chaos.

From the crowd, a Travis Bickle emerges, singing soft love songs to Jodie, and begins to cage and flame. It's high drama that has The Diva running for the house. I'm reminded of countryside beaters, scaring the pheasants into the sights of the rifle, an apt metaphorical moment that could have been scripted. Or staged.

And then the gates are locked. They're in with me. And their sentence begins.

Put twelve women in an enclosed room together for a month, and there's a couple of things that you can be sure will happen. Firstly their cycles will synchronize, leading to a single week of hell every lunar period. And then, without fail, they'll begin to rearrange the furniture. As if marking their territory with prims instead of urine, each has defined their space with throw pillows, meditation chairs and fireplaces. It's tasteful, it's chic, and it's going to drive me out of my fucking mind. Where's the stripper's pole? Where's the mattress room? Where's the goddam big screen TV and 24 hr porn channel? The basic necessities.

Golda the rat lady had built a giant keg. I'd made an off-hand remark about needing to get beer in, and she took it to the extreme. But instead of being filled with the amber nectar, the inside was her nest. And while I'm no connoisseur, rat droppings in my beer always takes the edge off my mid-evening buzz.

Meanwhile in Lillani and Warda's corner, they'd created an installation that riffed off the glass habitrails. I marked time for awhile, walking faster but going nowhere, and for a moment, I was reminded of my life outside the house.

Meanwhile the floozies lined up to gawk at the inmates, and despite my screaming objections, Big Brother held fast that conjugal visits were not allowed.

As if in desperation, and feigning exhaustion, I lay down beside Pannie. A smoking redhead in sheer blue lingerie, it was all the more delicious as I knew her husband was watching from outside the glass. Poor sap. But before I could move into action, the darkness enclosed me, and the first day in the house was over. Sleep tight, maties. See you in Part Two.

Posted by Gideon Television at December 26, 2006 05:05 PM


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