Guess who's still stuck on a man-made island with nothing but a fridge and an espresso maker for company?
"I'm going to die here, aren't I?"
Yes, Dona. You are going to die alone and unloved and surrounded by hideous fountains unless you can find the strength to get two whole yards across the pool.
"Well, damn it, that's never going to happen! Maybe I'll just wet myself instead."
"Ew. I'm just passing through in an out-of-place taxi and I'm STILL disgusted by what I see."
"I also happen to be passing through for no logical reason, and I, too, am disgusted! Ooh, look at me, I'm Dona Twellman! I'm stupider than the average puddingface!"
But I digress; nobody cares about Dona. So, instead of wasting our time on her, just admire this rainbow I found and then go check in on the other contestants.
Her absence left enough beds to go around, so everyone immediately got themselves on an eleven-to-six sleeping schedule.
This clearly made the game too boring for Kelly, who promptly showed up to wake them and eat salad. (As a side note, I didn't even know that ghosts would disturb sims' sleep until they all got out of bed.) What's Meece doing back there? Cowering in fear of the terrifying apparition?
Naaah. She's pointing and laughing at it! This is obviously the correct response to seeing a ghost with a plate full of leftovers.
Shame it wouldn't do anything for Nelson's physique. He looks like he could use a plate full of leftovers.
Nobody seemed to miss Dona. In fact, Meece and Esmeralda appear to be talking trash about her.
"And then she went back across to the fridge, the moron!"
Merriment was had by all.
Well, it was had by all except for Dona. At one point she attempted to end her misery by jumping into the pool with a ringing cell phone, but, as cell phones are not hair dryers or toasters, it didn't work. The phone didn't even break, and moments later Sim-Me taunted her by asking if she'd deliver some home-grown vegetables to the couch on the other side of the island.
As Darren was giving Meece another hundred reasons why she shouldn't write his name on this week's ballot, his phone began to ring. Sim-Me wanted him to fix the stereo she hasn't got.
Then Meece's phone rang. Isaac wanted some vegetables. Would you stop with the opportunities for five minutes, you stupid game?!
"After I win Sim Survivor and become president, we'll be famous! We'll have so many paparazzi following us around and taking pictures that we will be on the covers of all the magazines!"
"That sounds fantastic! I love you and believe in you, honey."
Esmeralda does not seem to realize that Darren winning Sim Survivor would, by default, necessitate her horrible and lingering death. Oh well. I won't burst that bubble for her.
Wednesday morning brought a new immunity challenge. This one is less elaborate than the last.
It is built on the same principle, though. There are things to do...
Food to eat...
Televisions to watch...
And a rather simple goal. The first contestant to autonomously sit on that chair wins.
"So, um, what about me? I get to participate in the challenge, right?"
Nope. Only people who are smart enough to leave the maze get to participate. Smart people, go!
Everyone ignored the easel, guitar, and telescope--in other words, every object that could help them improve their skills and enrich their brief, unhappy lives. Instead Meece tuned in to the horror channel, and Darren and Esmeralda immediately blocked the screen and forced her to watch their endless flirtations.
Then Darren pulled out a book and sat down.
And that, folks, was the shortest immunity challenge ever. Okay, everyone is free to--
Pee themselves rather than going home to use the bathroom. Okay.
And you're free to be disgusted by Darren and Esmeralda's smelly, in-your-face brand of love.
And you're definitely free to yell at them for it.
Back at camp, we appear to be having a few technical difficulties with the custom counters. Thanks a lot, EA!
I don't know. Somehow these replacements just look...inappropriate.
As I agonized over new counter choices, Isaac appeared in the middle of the campsite. Wtf, Isaac?
His welcome was not a warm one.
"You killed Nelson! You're in cohorts with that thing calling itself our god and I hate you for it!"
"What?! Hey! I was just trying to be social!"
DAVID TENNANT EYEBROW.
"So, uh, what are you upset about, anyway? Do you want to talk about it?"
"I already told you what I'm upset about! GTFO and don't come back!"
Disheartened by such a frosty reception, Isaac stopped trying to make nice.
Instead, he began to pick on Darren.
"Look, Darren, this is you! 'DURR DURR DURR I am a greaseball with no political experience but I still think I can be president somehow! Pangborn/Santorum 2012!'"
"That's right, more Santorum jokes! You mad?"
Oh, yes, he was mad.
"Hey, if you don't want people to make Santorum jokes, maybe you should try not looking like him!"
DAVID TENNANT EYEBROW.
DAVID TENNANT EYEBROW.
BACKWARDS-FACING DAVID TENNANT EYEBROW OF VICTORY.
Esmeralda, apparently an Eleven fan, had had enough of the eyebrow. She raised her hand and viciously slapped it off his face.
Then she attacked him for daring to mock her boyfriend's appearance.
Isaac was less than delighted by the whole experience.
Rather than keep arguing, he attempted to smooth things over by making funny faces at her.
She would have none of it, however.
Meece wanted to get in on the Isaac-bruising action, so she leapt upon him too.
He fought her off, though.
And he fled.
Saturday evening rolled around. The three non-stupid contestants were locked in the graveyard, and as they waited for Sim-Me to show up Darren and Esmeralda expressed their love. Darren thought about her; she thought about gardening.
Sim-Me was late. Where was she, you may ask?
"Um, shouldn't you be at the elimination round by now?"
"No. Bring me another sandwich, minion."
She was lording it up on her own personal throne.