BB: “Parasite?”

Foutte is TRASH

July 29: “4 Days Late”

“On Twitter, there are pictures of Tyler, dressed as a rich man, in his real life. He’s not a “surfer.” He doesn’t need the money – but he has the intelligence to win it.”

Tyler misrepresenting himself in the house, is not a surprise to me. I have some ocean-front property in Ohio, to sell you.

The surfer persona makes him appear dumber than his marks (another one of The 48 Laws of Power), which is why Foutte sees Tyler as some sort of lost lamb/puppy dog, ensnared in Angela’s wiles.

The opposition fails to recognize him as the true mastermind, behind all of Foutte’s failures, and underestimates his potential as a threat, to their peril.

August 11: “The Seduction of Sam?!”

Brett is the best man for Hay, not Scottie or Fessy. And JC is too small. Better luck next time Fessy!”

August 13: “The Bayleigh Vote”

“I still maintain Brett is better for [Hay]If Fessy and Hay were never in the house together, they would have never connected, in the real world.

#Faleigh is not going to exist, after this season. I am Team #Braleigh all the way.

JC as the parasite is completely predictable, but Fessy is so stupid, that he just lets it happen. Tyler actually wins POVs and won the first HOH, but his game-play is similar:

August 6: “DUM BASS”

Tyler is like a parasite: he has invaded people, like Angela, Sam and Bay’s brains, and convinced them, that what’s good for him, is good for them.”

JC won’t latch on to Tyler: he’s letting Tyler and Foutte eliminate Foutte. Then it will be JC vs. Tyler in the inevitable Level 4 civil war.

The eviction of Kaitlyn laid bare that JC has no intention to parasitically bond with Tyler or work for Tyler. The joke vote never lies. JC’s only objective is to beat Tyler.

July 29: “4 Days Late” (2x)

JC’s long game is to destroy Tyler, because only Tyler stands in the way of him winning $500K. The rest are irrelevant. It’s a game between JC and Tyler and the rest of them are just chess pieces, that those two move around. And it’s JC‘s game to lose.”

August 12: “ZERO STARS”

“There’s no St. George, for this dragon, except for maybe JC. Stupid Foutte is getting wiped off the board, as JC and Tyler, move around their chess pieces, toward the final showdown.”

August 1: “The Last Days of Foutte”

“The way the game works, is that the Bottom Five players aren’t even considered by JC. Bay, Fessy, Hay and the like, are ‘Clean-Up on Aisle 3,’ for Tyler. Those who make it through Tyler, get to JC,”

Scottie’s vote against Swaggy is similar to Bay revealing her power app, to Rachel, except with a longer half-life. Scottie, no matter what he does, can’t live this down.

This one kernel of truth unravels all the false accusations leveled against Scottie: JC’s hinky vote; Scottie being the hacker, when Kaycee was the hacker; not voting to save RS (Brett claimed that vote, for Rockstar, in another house meeting) – and Fessy believed this ruse!

It’s like the boy who called wolf: even when Scottie is telling the truth, all Fessy and Co. have to point to, is that one vote against Swaggy. And no one is going to let that one go.

However, this doesn’t excuse Fessy’s stupidity. He actually believes, he and Hay can make a Final Four, with Tyler and Angela. If Scottie goes home this week, which I am almost sure that he will, if he doesn’t win veto – Fessy will be joining him in the jury house, one week later.

Kaitlyn, Bay, Hay, Fessy, and even Scottie, with his brief flirtation with Level 4 – have all tried to join Level 6. They don’t seem to understand that there is even another side of the house, beyond Angela, Tyler and Kaycee. Foutte trusts Brett, the mole, over Scottie, one of their most loyal members, besides the just-evicted Rockstar.

Only recently did it begin to dawn on Hay and Scottie that there is a group of six, running things, in the house. Angela and Kaycee even wrote the number ‘6’ on the underside of the brims, of their OTEV baseball caps.

Speaking of Kaycee, yes, that eviction night speech was Cringe. Kaycee has been a great team-player, in a strong alliance. However, when the incoming Level 4 civil war happens, I wonder if she will actually be able to think for herself and even win.

#TeamSam is pretty much trash. Even after Hammock Brett almost killed Sam, with the dinner of death, Sam still ran back to him and like I referenced earlier, told Brett she liked him, that she saw him as her future husband, and totally believes he feels the same way. Completely #Cringe. Gross. Brett was doing all that he could, not to run out of the room screaming.

Sam doesn’t want Angela stealing Tyler from her and she doesn’t want Hay or Angela stealing Brett from her. I have never seen such insecurity and levels of erotomania i.e. the belief in relationships that don’t actually exist.

I am so disappointed. Never tell anyone you like them. Brett will only use her and manipulate her. Conceal your true intentions, like in the #48LawsOfPower. I have been trying so hard to root for Sam, but now she just seems like she has lost all of her bearings. Ugh.

one day Fessy will figure it out

The Age of Mauve

meta-vaporeon

Keo sat in front of a white table-cloth, in a café by the sea. The sun had just set; the sky was a ruddy violet. She was wearing an Oxford blue jacket, over a gray sweater vest.

The wind rushed out to the water, ruffling the red cloth awning. Keo set down her the china tea-cup and looked out to the last vestiges of the day.

She went to the discothèque – flashing lights, darkened room, the entire dance floor flooded with people. Keo sipped a cognac glass of brandy and watched the throng surge to and fro, the lines from the bar, the enthusiastic music lovers surrounding the DJ booth. Keo let the neon waves of light and sound wash over her.

While the party was still at its peak, she took a taxi home, silent cab winding through the cobblestone streets. She woke the next morning, under her white sheets, in a quaint second-floor apartment, with windows that let in the early morning heat.

Once dressed, and armed with a cup of coffee, she looked out onto the balcony, with cars passing below, and vendors hawking fruits and vegetables, from wicker baskets.

The next weekend, she leaned against the wall, watching lavender light sweep through the club. Another woman, in a buttoned-up shirt approached her, and asked in her ear, over the volume of the music, “You don’t dance?”

“I do dance,” Keo yelled back, over the Mediterranean EDM. They did a shy two-step to the remixed pop song and escaped back out into the cool night, to Keo’s favorite café.

“Do you come here often?” the other woman, with a short-cropped, brunette haircut said, gesturing to the coffeehouse and bistro.

“Yes,” Keo said, “The seafood during the day is quite good. Not far from here, you can also take a ferry out to the forested islands.”

“Sounds mysterious.”

“There’s a large park on one of them. Full of marble fountains and swans.”

“Must be magical,” the woman smiled, leaning over her coffee.

“It’s actually quite ordinary,” Keo said, stirring her own cup, “But that’s what makes it magical.”

They stopped to listen to the splash of the oars of a small boat, being rowed out, onto the black waves.

day time