Despite our best efforts to the contrary, last night Julie and I found ourselves roped into watching Blind Date Fear Factor. You know, it’s like regular Fear Factor only with the humiliating addition of a dating show mixed in. Nonetheless, it was probably the best bit of reality television I’ve ever seen (barring Newlyweds, of course). Why, you ask?
Because of a guy named Mike.
I’m sure you’ve seen Fear Factor before, or at least have caught advertisements for it. People jump from speeding boats, or submerge themselves in shark-infested icewater, or eat as many donkey scrotums as they can without throwing up. Basically, it’s the worst show ever devised and (despite the following phrase being a cliché at this point, it is nonetheless true) Fear Factor’s endurance on television signifies one of the many stages of the downfall of civilization. But, the contest are always pretty, and that—I assume—is part of the draw (presumably, Americans like to see people who are better looking than them get humiliated on national TV—especially if those pretty people are wearing bikinis), right?
Usually, maybe. But not in this case.
In this case, I was all about Mike. Mike is a late-40s dude from the Louisiana bayou. He has a receding hairline mullet, a giant mustache, any of his teeth that aren’t brown aren’t there at all, he’d been bit on the neck by a possum once, he only has two toes on his right foot (the others were lost in a motorcycle accident), his favorite word is “Hooooaah!” and if he won the $50,000 he was going to use some of it to buy a nice wheelchair for his brother who’d been crippled in a tornado.
Mike, as they say, is one of a kind.
But what made him so endearing is that he’s obviously one of the nicest, most upbeat guys you’d ever meet, despite the obvious hardships he (and his kin) have suffered. (When host Joe Rogan noticed that Mike was missing all but his big toe and the one next to it on his right foot, Mike held the foot up in the direction of the camera, spread his two toes apart, and said, “It’s my peace sign!” It was hilarious.) More endearing still was the fact that he’d been paired with the cutest 24-year-old Alabama beauty, and she loved him. This being Blind Date Fear Factor Joe kept asking the four sets of contestants if a “love connection” was forming with any of them. The three other couples (each very attractive in a Fort Lauderdale/Spring Break “hot bod” contest kind of way) were stoically tolerating their respective partners but were by no means smitten. (To help illustrate this, one of the guys fancied himself a crooner of the Aaron Neville variety, and kept singing everything he would say in a horrible falsetto instead of just talking—like, “We-eah are a-gonna wiiin-ah.” It was terribly annoying and his partner seemed to want to strangle him on more than one occasion. Moreover the guy was a total asshole and he made fun of Mike behind his back constantly.) Mike, on the other hand, was the most adorable man his partner had ever met. She was clearly having a fun time with him and they were getting along like old friends. So when Joe would rib them about their apparent incompatibility the girl (whose name I forget but wish I could remember) would say she was planning to take Mike home to meet her family (as which point Mike called out “Alabama loves Louisiana!”). When they didn’t win the final challenge the girl got really upset because she felt like it was her fault, but Mike—who surely needed the money more than anyone else on the show—consoled her like a champ. And they did win a trip for four to Aruba (I think) so they didn’t go home empty handed.
In short, it was one of the most entertaining hours of television I’ve ever watched.
But with that said, I don’t plan on ever watching Fear Factor again. I hate that stupid show.
Last Friday I answered the phone in my apartment and after saying “Hello?” into the receiver I heard what sounded like an angry guy in the background yelling at his kids. I paused, waiting for someone to say something directly into the phone, but only heard a little bit of giggling and more muffled yelling. So I figured it was just a young kid fooling around with the telephone until I heard, softly, “English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?” in the unmistakable voice of Samuel L. Jackson as Jules from Pulp Fiction. Turns out I was being pranked by some kids using the Sam Jackson prank call soundboard on the ebaumsworld website.
Unfortunately, just as I figured this out the kids hung up on me. I can’t sufficiently convey just how disappointed I was, because once I realized what was going on I really wanted to participate! After all, how often do you get the chance to be verbally accosted by Sam Jackson, you know? Sigh. Nothing’s worse than a premature prank call hangup. Damn kids.
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