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Sunday, July 28, 2002

Melissa posts live from the Challenge which is filming in Jamaica

Another thing from the Battle of the Sexes filming right down in good ole' Jamaica: Melissa from New Orleans is still going strong... Here's the passage taken from her journal:

"So, I am in Jamaica right now, and I can't say the internet access is 24 hours as I was promised, but let me not start by complaining. Actually, that is precisely where I will start.

Who is in charge of doling out the punishment around these parts? There have been numerous levels of sheer disappointment, socially speaking, anyway, for me.

Let's start with good old Taye Diggs. We're actually in the same area where they filmed How Stella Got Her Groove Back, but I can't relate because I am still trying to get my groove on. I got all cute on my day off thinking I could snag the precious Taye (the heat must be making me delirious with confidence that doesn't quite exist) only to find that he was here to get married. Yeah, thanks for the fun times Taye.

Moving on to Black Jesus. Know that Madonna video Like A Prayer? Remember old dude on the cross crying that one drop of blood as a tear, yeah him. He's here! Yeah, so I am lounging around by the pool (never confessing to the fact that I can't swim), drinking pina colada (singular) and I recognize this person that I swear I know. It wasn't even a celebrity sighting until after I was embarrassed about how I rolled up on him. I went up to him and actually said the words, "Excuse me, sir, with the shorts on, I know you..." He proceeded to tell me that he didn't, and I proceeded to insist that in fact I did. He said he doesn't live in LA, but that he's an actor so perhaps that's how I know him. At that point, I tried to gather any scrap of dignity and started the long and elaborate apologies. We get to talking and he invites me to this huge concert (featuring Ja Rule and Ashanti) and I explain that I am "not allowed" to leave this here compound. I take many poetic licenses with the "not allowed" thing. I do many of those things thinking I am not being filmed, but whatevs.

Anyway, I ended up flaking on the concert because we were filming the dramatic voting off "ceremony" (that's what they call it, it's really not that ceremonious, it's actually somewhat repetitive) until midnight. So, the next day, I was down at the bar again. Don't worry, I am not drinking my face off while being filmed. Learned that lesson long ago. Not that you were worried, though. So, next day at the bar, I see him and of course, I suck because I flaked. He then invited me to a casual dinner (we'll get to the food situation in a second) and to the concert again (it's like a neverending festival of music).

Listen to why I couldn't hang out with him! Let me preface this by saying if any of you ever have the opportunity to eat with Black Jesus, take it any way you can. I regret flaking already! I couldn't hang because I have a rather unfortunate bout of the Traveler's D. Yeah, the kind with the sense of urgency and fire. I told him I was sick. He asked what kind of sick, and being the girl with no game, I actually told him what kind. So that makes me completely undateable and stupid, but like I said, the heat makes me retarded. No, I wasn't sick and drinking at the bar, but the cameras weren't at the bar so that's where I was.

So, the food situation. I have lost weight, and I dread the possibility of being accused of an eating disorder when this airs. Know those swollen-bellied children in Somalia? Yeah, that's about where I am. Registered in at a whopping 92 pounds, and I feel really gross and at about 88 ish. Steady diet of ramen noodles and pb & j because I can't eat the "catering" they've provided because oh, I don't know, there's a rumor there's a virus. But everybody got the D long before I did. Now everybody's healthy and galavanting, while I am sick and sad but hiding both ailments because it's that type of show. But things don't stay hidden for very long when you're under infrared surveillance.

On to the non-complaining. Jamaica is some beautiful stuff. I can't even explain. Just know that every time I get pissed at production, I have to remember that I fell asleep watching the sunset and woke up looking at the ocean listening to steel drums. It rules here. The humidity makes my hair ugly, but it rules here.

I have tried to be on my best behavior and with the exception of a few times where I suffered really ugly and poor anger management, I have managed to really have fun. Surely they'll air every time I had to bitch about something and make me the ambiguously undedicated contestant who complains, but I swear it's mostly about the way shit is handled by production. Some things just boil down to plain unfair. They're great people, but the fairness goes out of the window sometimes.

So the paranoia has set in for sure. Come airing date, I might just find a hole and die. Some of the missions will make me look insane as some of the boys have told me, but whatever, I can't deny that I am scared shitless (I actually wish I was shitless) every mission. I don't really get down with jumping to my death and sinking into a coma, nor do I enjoy sweating profusely. But it's all under wraps. I just stand there, not really understanding the directions or the strategy and pretend that it's the least terrifying shit I have ever heard of. Go team!

But did I say I was having fun? I really am having fun. Interesting how I enjoy the company of the folks here. I have actually had to apologize for any negative judgments I've made about a few folks here so that's really refreshing.
Before I start singing Kumbaya (which is sung ad nauseum around here, along with the Juicy Fruit song which I do co-sign), let me go. Somebody's waiting for the computer and might vote me off because I took too long. Joke. Joke. But is it really?"

Interesting. Some slight insight on what's going on!

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