This is going to be a short and sweet coda to the symphony that was this unrealistic reality show. I'm supposed to give a Springer-esque 'final thought' to you, the audience, and to do one more post about this concept, in hopes that a TV exec is tuning in (let's do lunch).
So here we go. Buckle your seatbelts and put trays in an upright and secured position.
Late last year, I moved from California to Idaho (link). Goodbye hustle, goodbye bustle. Hello to a slower lifestyle. It was a major shift for me, and took a lot of getting used to.
But I got used to it. After spending time in a mansion with this gaggle of freaks, I miss it.
Granted, we had a lot of fun. I saw more painted-on boobs than you'd find in a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. I singlehandedly took down a five-foot-forty lumberjack of a man. I even had a chance to spike a batch of brownies with salvia (legal, yes. But oooh what a trip) before I left, and had the pleasure of witnessing its effects while stone-cold sober (haha, guys... I HAVE VIDEO!!).
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| Go Sonia, Go Sonia... |
Good times, good times.
But I'm ready to get back to the relaxed, slower pace of Idaho. I'm ready to get back to the rednecks, the mormons, and the Judgement Day doomsayers.
As entertaining as the Helena mansion was, Idaho is just as entertaining. And (usually) without the hangovers, or the bruises from madam reckmonster.
Adieu, Montana. Adieu, you crazy bloggers. Let's do cancun next year, for spring break. Mmmmmk?
SQUATLO (Bob) SAYS HE'S PAYING!!!
