Dork night

Toward the end of my pregnancy, I started getting bloated. I looked like the corpse of a pot-bellied pig dredged out of a lake after a week and a half.

And my blood pressure started going up.

A week before my due date, my doctor put me on bed rest ... and I was thrilled. I got permission to lay my bloated carcass on the couch and watch TV. It was awesome.

During that time, I started watching a brand-new TV show. A show unlike the sit-coms and medical dramas, I'd watched in the past. It was at the forefront of a new genre called reality TV.

That show was the first season of Survivor.

I watched that show while I was on maternity leave and since I've seen every season.

I'm not bragging, I'm just saying I'm one of those people.

My name is Robin and I watch reality TV.

But I'm not alone. (Thank goodness!) My dear friend, Tracee, has been making the trek to my sofa every Thursday to watch Survivor with me for ... gosh, how long as it been, Trace? A couple years at least.

A couple seasons ago, we thought it would be more fun if we devised a game to play along.

I had to take a break from our Survivor game the last couple seasons, but we are back at this time.

And better than ever, I must add.

Last night we watched the 2-hour season premiere and took notes. We got to know the characters and started looking for possible winners.

We also did this:

We crafted up our Survivor bulletin board.

What?

See, this season, not only are Tracee and I playing, but so are my gramma and my mom. So we had to get organized. We each have our own square where we'll have our weekly ballots. There's a place for pictures of the contestants along with a place for those voted out.

Yeah, I know. We're dorky dorks. But sometimes you have to let your innerdork shine.

Ours are blinding our husbands.