Congratulations on changing your life!

Branden,

First of all, I just want to let you (and all the other inhabitants of your little bohemian treehut) know that I'm not holding a grudge at all about the whole kicking me off thing. My mood is, in fact, the anti-thesis of grudgeful right now. This hotel they put us up in after we gave our pissy little final words is like whoa. I just got a full body massage and something herbal or another and I feel like butter. There are all these docile white tigers walking around, which is really perplexing me because I haven't seen a single mound of tiger poo yet. The little things get me. My room is jungle themed, which contrary to popular belief hasn't helped get me lucky yet. This being especially true since I'm isolated into this empty hotel with only the other survivor outcasts as company (you know, media black-out). I'm sure it had to be pretty hard on Tobias those first few days alone (until I followed so soon after). When I got here he had already re-worded all of the menus to more completely capture the "soul and essence" of the meals. As for Rizzn, all he does is go down to the piano bar every night, get trashed, and sing "Danke Schoen" OVER and OVER. At first it was endearing. But last night he draped himself across the piano and did a 45 minute arrangement of "Sweet Child of Mine". He had a wig on for christ sakes.

Actually his 45 minute arrangement was cut short when Heather stormed the stage to do her 2 hour rendition of Gangsta Boo's "nasty trick", dedicated to Emaline and Melanie Griffith of course. Me? I'm trying to organize a group of squirrels and rats for "Sorry Ms. Jackson". I guess we're just a musical bunch. The blackjack tables are down for lack of staff, so what's a survivor gonna do?

Really what I'm saying is that you guys should go on and vote some more people off because it's getting weird around here.

Okay, I guess I should get down to what was supposed to be the main "issue" of this message. The first thing waiting for me after a long soak in my high pressure jet tub was a letter from my father. It seems that he had seen some of the previews for Survivor 2 and he recognized you. The reason he recognized you was because, according to him, he is your real father.

Apparently some time back in the 80s when my dad was running around sporting a neo-hippie beard wowing the ladies with archaelogical hot words he ran into your mother. No where's and why's were made clear to me. All I know is that it was a very short term thing. They decided that it would be best for both of them (since they were both married to people they had no plan on leaving) if they hushed up their shenanigans. I guess they did a pretty good job with it since neither you nor I have heard about it until now, 16 years after the fact. As the 8th step of AA my dad was supposed to make amends to me and everyone else by telling the truth, UNLESS it would cause more harm than good. My assumption is that he thought he'd never be able to find you, so revealing your existance to us would just upset the whole family structure doodly deal. When he saw you on television right next to me it must have triggered some deep rooted texas style heartbreak. I can only imagine.

First off, I have to know...have you ever looked at a piece of art and just thought "Man oh buddy oh man, that would look great with some glass and a piece or two of wood around it"? Everyone in our family, down from my grandfather to my dad, aunts, cousins, and I have worked in picture framing stores. It's got to be genetic. If I was still in high school I'd do a fucking science project on it, I swear.

Speaking of odd, I'm really disturbed by the all the interelations on Survivor. Apparently, not only are you my long lost brother, you're also Mellisa's, which makes me and the best diary layout on survivor somehow distantly kin. That's not the weirdest thing. EVERYONE is related to someone else on survivor. I'm sure you know this all too well from the screams of joy or dismay coming from the confessional over there every night. This is like some perverted form of Clue(the movie of course) or The Westing Game. Hell, there were 16 "contestants" in the Westing Game too!

The more I start to think about all this, the more it perplexes me. What if my letter from my father (and everyone elses') was a fake? You don't look very much like my dad (no offense...none taken I'm sure). I mean...sure I'd like to think my gene pool could produce such an excellent writer as yourself, but a playwright, too? Nah, we're more crafty people. Personally, I think there's something shady going on at Survivor central. I'd watch your back because I think someone is going to end up dead while the rest of us get a million dollars or an FBI file. Make sure you're on the right side of that equation bro. Well, if it's not all a hoax I'm glad to know I'm going to have some help with our 10 year old hell-on-wheels fireheaded sister at christmas time. Bring the rope.

Love Ginger

IC#3 explantion Branden, First of all, I just want to let you (and all the other inhabitants of your little bohemian treehut) know that I'm not holding a grudge at all about the whole kicking me off thing. My mood is, in fact, the anti-thesis of grudgeful right now. This hotel they put us up in after we gave our pissy little final words is like whoa. I just got a full body massage and something herbal or another and I feel like butter. There are all these docile white tigers walking around, which is really perplexing me because I haven't seen a single mound of tiger poo yet. The little things get me. My room is jungle themed, which contrary to popular belief hasn't helped get me lucky yet. This being especially true since I'm isolated into this empty hotel with only the other survivor outcasts as company (you know, media black-out). I'm sure it had to be pretty hard on Tobias those first few days alone (until I followed so soon after). When I got here he had already re-worded all of the menus to more completely capture the "soul and essence" of the meals. As for Rizzn, all he does is go down to the piano bar every night, get trashed, and sing "Danke Schoen" OVER and OVER. At first it was endearing. But last night he draped himself across the piano and did a 45 minute arrangement of "Sweet Child of Mine". He had a wig on for christ sakes. Actually his 45 minute arrangement was cut short when Heather stormed the stage to do her 2 hour rendition of Gangsta Boo's "nasty trick", dedicated to Emaline and Melanie Griffith of course. Me? I'm trying to organize a group of squirrels and rats for "Sorry Ms. Jackson". I guess we're just a musical bunch. The blackjack tables are down for lack of staff, so what's a survivor gonna do? Really what I'm saying is that you guys should go on and vote some more people off because it's getting weird around here. Okay, I guess I should get down to what was supposed to be the main "issue" of this message. The first thing waiting for me after a long soak in my high pressure jet tub was a letter from my father. It seems that he had seen some of the previews for Survivor 2 and he recognized you. The reason he recognized you was because, according to him, he is your real father. Apparently some time back in the 80s when my dad was running around sporting a neo-hippie beard wowing the ladies with archaelogical hot words he ran into your mother. No where's and why's were made clear to me. All I know is that it was a very short term thing. They decided that it would be best for both of them (since they were both married to people they had no plan on leaving) if they hushed up their shenanigans. I guess they did a pretty good job with it since neither you nor I have heard about it until now, 16 years after the fact. As the 8th step of AA my dad was supposed to make amends to me and everyone else by telling the truth, UNLESS it would cause more harm than good. My assumption is that he thought he'd never be able to find you, so revealing your existance to us would just upset the whole family structure doodly deal. When he saw you on television right next to me it must have triggered some deep rooted texas style heartbreak. I can only imagine. First off, I have to know...have you ever looked at a piece of art and just thought "Man oh buddy oh man, that would look great with some glass and a piece or two of wood around it"? Everyone in our family, down from my grandfather to my dad, aunts, cousins, and I have worked in picture framing stores. It's got to be genetic. If I was still in high school I'd do a fucking science project on it, I swear. Speaking of odd, I'm really disturbed by the all the interelations on Survivor. Apparently, not only are you my long lost brother, you're also Mellisa's, which makes me and the best diary layout on survivor somehow distantly kin. That's not the weirdest thing. EVERYONE is related to someone else on survivor. I'm sure you know this all too well from the screams of joy or dismay coming from the confessional over there every night. This is like some perverted form of Clue(the movie of course) or The Westing Game. Hell, there were 16 "contestants" in the Westing Game too! The more I start to think about all this, the more it perplexes me. What if my letter from my father (and everyone elses') was a fake? You don't look very much like my dad (no offense...none taken I'm sure). I mean...sure I'd like to think my gene pool could produce such an excellent writer as yourself, but a playwright, too? Nah, we're more crafty people. Personally, I think there's something shady going on at Survivor central. I'd watch your back because I think someone is going to end up dead while the rest of us get a million dollars or an FBI file. Make sure you're on the right side of that equation bro. Well, if it's not all a hoax I'm glad to know I'm going to have some help with our 10 year old hell-on-wheels fireheaded sister at christmas time. Bring the rope. Love Ginger
My AIM changed to gingermissippy for now. ginger@mosquitoinc.org