Will Liz ever stop talking

Last night before ANTM, as I was leaving a message for Kelly (“Fleeessshh eaaating baaacteriaaa…best. Episode. Ever!”) I missed a call from Krista, who left this message: “Aaah! Mah face is peelin’ off!” Needless, to say we were all excited for the episode TV Guide sited only as “The Contagious One,” and of course we were all a little disappointed that there was no quarantining, biohazard suits, or guest appearances by Dr. House. (Just kidding. We hate Dr. House.) In any case, I was not at all sad to see Shorty “I Miss My Son” Unmodel go home, but a little sorry Michelle’s face wasn’t really going to slide off.

Which Ahe totally predicted. Again. I realize her uncanny spot-on predictions are legitimate because people comment on them prior to the show airing (I never catch them until after). Plus the thought of organizing a whole FAKE prediction system seems like way too much effort, even for an entertainment junkie like Ahe.

At the heart of this unfounded suspicion is, of course, my OWN guilt at totally cheating on reality show predictions in college. To set the scene for this tale, you have to imagine a long ago time before Google was in wide-spread use, before I used the internet in any capacity other than emailing and looking at the (now defunct) Lawn Wranglers website, and when Kelly and I used a travel agent to book our spring break trip. We’re talking about…the year 2000. I’m embarrassed to say it might have been 2001. ANYWAY, it was back when “Survivor” was in its second season and one of our favorite restaurant/bars had a “Survivor” night where they’d show it on huge screens and everyone would put their predictions of who would be booted into a plastic pitcher. Then they would draw names and the first one to get it right would win prizes.

I think that’s all Kelly and I heard: “prizes” (picture spinning stars replacing our irises). In fact, I don’t even remember that we watched the show. But we were determined to win prizes. So we came up with the ingenious plan to CALL her friend who lived in New York (we were on the west coast) and get her to tell us who got kicked off. This was also pre-cell phone days, so as I remember, there was a scramble between getting the results and getting to the bar before the show started. We thought we were the smartest people who ever did grace this good earth. We were brilliant! Not cheaters. Smart people.

So the very first week we tried this, my name was the first one pulled out of the pitcher, and of course we won. The prize was this coupon book full of great free and 2-for-1 deals on desserts and appetizers and meals at the restaurant. We ate many a luxurious meal there.

We checked to see if we were feeling guilty about our ill-gotten gains…nope! We were front and center the next week, when Kelly won. This time, it was a free meal and a trip on a bus to a Mariners game, where we were loaded up with free beer and peanuts.

I wish I could tell you that the guilt kicked in at some point, but we had a blast using our prizes I thought of those times as the best. Heist. Ever. I guess thinking back on it, I have plenty of um, other things, to feel guilty about from college, and I just don’t spare too much of it there. Hmm, no moral here I see.

So Ahe, you should totally continue to sleep with Nigel Barker, because down the line THAT will be an awesome story.