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Welcome to Holidailies, where certain members of the journal community make a pledge to update our journals on a daily basis as a special Christmas gift to you, our loyal readers. Lisa and I have developed a new comedy routine that can be funny to no one but us. It's weird, but we've developed this bizarre sit-com comedy ability when we're driving in the car together. We can start with any topic, and then just spiral madly out of control. It's very noisy. Outsiders must think we're having knockdown screaming matchs, but we're actually in stitches, laughing so hard we bruise our bladders. It starts simple, like this form we had to mail. Lisa had it all ready to send, and wanted me to drop it off in my mailroom at work the next day. I'm a bit sheepish to admit that in the two years I've worked here, I've never figured out how the mailroom works, so I asked her just to drop it in a mailbox. Lisa countered with the fact that we were in a hurry, and one less step is better. Stubbornness mated with orneriness and produced some bastard offspring that to us sure looked like comedy. We went on for nearly half an hour, each raising the ante in levels of volume and ludicrousness, until it climaxed with the car parked on a sidewalk, six inches away from a mailbox, with Lisa refusing to open her window or even hold the letter, and the two of us screaming at each other in silly voices. "TAKE IT TO YOUR MAILROOM!" "THE MAILBOX IS RIGHT THERE!" Boy, it doesn't SOUND funny, reading it here, but we were laughing so hard we nearly peed our pants. Any observers would have called the cops to make sure we weren't killing each other. 
Survivor's editors are geniuses. All episode they taunted us with clips of Jon and Burton exclaiming how smart they were, how in control of the game they were, how the women couldn't pull a strategy out of their asses even if they shared a brain between the three of them. We gnashed our teeth, we pulled hair, hoping that these smug bastards would have their clocks cleaned. And then when Burton went home, we cheered so loud that the cats bolted and Pippin flew off across the room, down into the landing and pooped in my shoe. That was my pick Sandra manipulating them. When Jon was swearing on his (fake) dead grandmother's grave that Burton and him wouldn't kick her out, Sandra was saying, "I swear on my two children (that I will screw both of you over)." That's my girl. Go for the gold! Sunday's Finale Picks: Okay, we're down to Sandra, Darrah, Lill, and Jon. Unless Jon wins immunity, the girls will bump him first go. Lill won't win immunity so she will either go first or second -- both girls have stated they don't want to stand against her in the final vote. If all goes ell, it'll be down to Darrah and Sandra for the final vote. I know Rupert and Christa will vote Sandra. Likely Jon will too -- the player always recognizes who played him. Darrah's broken her allegiance before, so she won't have any friends with Tijuana. I pick Sandra to win! In Ancient Times...
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