Galu's resident Christian grandma with abs-of-steel, Laura Morett, knew that the Foa Foa folks -- and her own teammate, Shambo -- were gunning for her. But when she was voted off during this week's tribal counsel, it still came as a bit of a shock. Especially when the tie between her and Natalie meant that the merged tribe had to do a second vote. "It was about to go to stones," she tells MSN, "and my Galu teammates were will to step up for me. That's what makes this game so amazing. There's the strategy and there's the drama, but I made some real friends in Samoa."




What have you been doing since you got home?

Eating and eating and eating. But you know, it's been a hard transition. You would think that when you get home you just want to be surrounded by your loved ones, but you really don't. You kind of isolate yourself. It took me a long time to process, like, 'What's wrong with me?' My husband would be like, 'Let's go to somebody's house.' And I would be like, 'I don't want to go.' You just want privacy. In a game like 'Survivor,' you build a shell around yourself, like 'I don't need anybody.' So it's hard to let go of that. It's weird to be around people who just want to love you and protect you again.

Do you think it was because it was such a shock the way it all went down?

To a certain degree, I'm sure. But it's hard to crack that shell, to come out of that survival mode.

On the show, you're portrayed as this rough-and-tumble take-charge type. And in real life, you're a 40-year-old Christian grandmother. Do you think you're really both?

It's funny, yes. I'm not what I'm perceived to be. I am like 5'3" and a mother and grandmother, but I'm tough. I ride a Harley. I have two teenage boys that I'm constantly wrestling with and kicking around. So I'm not a girlie girl, but I do like to dress up and look pretty. My husband always says that the two sides of me confuse people. They're taken aback when they see me jump off my Harley and walk up in my leather pants. But I am also a good Christian and I focus on giving. But on the show, it was tough being portrayed as the mean girl. Because that's not me. I care about people and I have a heart for people. I want to minister to them. So to be portrayed as Shambo said as the 'mean cheerleader,' I have to ask people -- tell me one time you saw me being mean? I never did anything mean to Shambo. So that's really tough, watching myself portrayed that way. Because that's not me.

Was it jealousy, perhaps? Shambo's the one with the military background, but you became the strongest female on Galu, the one in charge.

I think it did. When they said, 'Who's the strong girl? who's gonna hold the rope? who's going to run through the water?' And it was me they called on to do those things, while Shambo was standing right there. And I'm her age. I know that she wanted to be the strong girl. She wanted to be the leader, the one that was called on. That didn't happen. You would expect them to call on the Marine and not the grandma. But I was the strongest girl. That and the fact that I got along with all of my tribe really effected her. But I was away from all of my kids, and hanging out with my team reminded me of being around my kids. Especially with Monica and Kelly, so we instantly had a bond. It was like a mother-daughter thing. And I think that Shambo felt left out. She didn't like that.

She looked at you guys as an exclusive sorority or mean girls tribe.

Exactly. But she had her own thing going. I knew that she was firmly Foa Foa the second time Russell sent her back. That was it. And it didn't really surprise me that John flipped. I knew that he was coming after me. Brett and I had a really tight alliance that wasn't shown on the show, but Brett would tell me what was going on. I mean, he told me about when they were thinking about throwing the challenge. So this week, when John turned on me, I already knew he was gunning for me.

At this point, do you still see any kind of unity with the tribes, or is it every 'Survivor' for his or herself?

I still see purple and yellow, but Shambo's clearly yellow. I am amazing and I'm in awe at Dave, Monica and Brett -- they were willing to go to stones for me. They didn't just say it, they did it. They put down Natalie's name, even though the risk was there. They did it when my name was on the chopping block -- those are amazing people that would do that for somebody else. So I still see Galu staying strong. And I'm so grateful for those friends.

What do you think about Russell? He's still sort of playing puppet master.

He's just a creepy little man. You can't hide that -- you can't disguise creepy. I'm not a poor sport. But it's just funny to watch him play the game because you're just like, 'That little guy is just evil.' But it's frustrating to see it happen because I am really competitve and nobody likes to lose. But to see that, gosh darnit, he got me. He's definitely making the show interesting, that's for darn sure.

Do you think you could have taken the million dollar prize?

Yeah, yeah, I think I could have. But this week was the type of challenge that killed me. I'm pretty athletic, but I have pathetic am. I couldn't hit the side of a barn. And I just kept thinking, 'David and Goliath, it only took one stone! It only took one!' Brett actually would have given me the necklace had he won, I know that. He's such an honorable guy. But it was just my luck this week. If the Lord has another plan for me, so be it. My goal was to win a million dollars. But I absolutely do it again -- in a heartbeat. I still had so much game left. I could have stayed out there for another 50 days.

So what's the take-away from 'Survivor' for you?

I guess it kind of confirmed things for me. Being 40, I sort of feel like I'm right on the top of the hill and the other side is straight down. And I ask myself, 'Am I still fit, am I still strong?' To actually go through this experience and get through it with the attitude that, 'Wow, that wasn't actually that hard!' It kind of confirmed in my mind that I am strong, I can do it. And it confirmed in my mind that the Lord has a plan for. He keeps opening these amazing doors and I'm just going to keep walking through them. And I'll enjoy the ride.

As we all know by now, Oprah Winfrey (or as I like to call her, Mrs. Gayle Steadman) will be cryptically saying goodbye to her syndicated daytime talk slot two days before the 10th anniversary of 9/11.

And with that resides a gaping hole in network programming that no doubt has both housewives and second-rate comedians salivating with the possibility of filling her Harpo-sized red pumps.

If one thing's for sure though, none of the below five entertainers will be called upon for the responsibility. They had their shot at the daytime interview couch or Q & A chair and either wildly lived down expectations or induced more prolonged viewer comas than sizable ratings shares. (And it should be noted that the likes of Richard Bey and Wendy Williams only missed the cut because of inexplicable longevity and still-undetermined future success, respectively.)


QUEEN LATIFAH

In case you thought otherwise, the Jersey-bred hip-hop Queen and Oscar nominee didn't seamlessly transition from preaching "U.N.I.T.Y." on the radio to singing and dancing her way through "Chicago." In between there was a little remembered FOX affair dubbed, shockingly, "The Queen Latifah Show." Personally, I'd prefer an uncut cable re-run of "Set It Off" any day.



TEMPESTT BLEDSOE

In hindsight, it's hard to see how producers felt giving the woe-begotten, second-to-middle Huxtable daughter her own syndicated gab fest was an inspired notion. It would be like Mike and Carol Brady allowing Jan to do a solo during "It's a Sunshine Day." And since I had trouble even locating remaining multimedia evidence of this disastrously ill-conceived project, I figured I may as well engage you more convincingly than Tempestt did during her year on the air with this classic, Vanessa-centric "Cosby Show" clip.


PAT BULLARD

Writing stints on "Roseanne" and "Grace Under Fire" helped this future "Reba" producer land his own short-lived morning gig, in which he committed what all TV Buzz readers know I consider the cardinal small-screen sin: allowing for any presence of ventriloquy. But hey, at least the above 10-year-old girl displayed more actual talent for her craft than Jeff Dunham.

Yesterday was an important day in the history of televised entertainment. Not just because some multi-billionaire daytime talk-show host announced she'd soon be relegating future interviews with gun-toting former VP candidates and celebrity incest victims to her cable channel. But also because it represented the launch of TV Buzz' newest feature, Celebrity Birthday of the Day. (It sounded way more triumphant in my head.)

Just to reiterate the guidelines, pre-requisites for eligibility are simple: You must be instantly familiar to more than several thousand people (not including your Facebook friends), have experienced a pronounced period of your stardom via the small-screen and be either genuinely awesome or a really easy target for needless mockery.

So without further arbitrary surveying, I would like to say happy 77th to:


RICHARD DAWSON

Before it was en vogue to sexually harass women half your age, longtime "Family Feud" host Richard Dawson was a pioneer of uncomfortably entering into a young lady's personal space. And more or less making out with her. On television. In front of her family. Come to think of it, maybe Oprah should consider hiring the wily septuagenarian to replace her on ABC. Yes, while portly Louie Anderson, TV handyman Richard Karn and "Seinfeld"/"Dancing With the Stars" alum John O'Hurley have all commandeered the "Family" reins, no one occupied that particular pulpit with the same creepy combination of boozy banter and inappropriate come-ons as Mr. Dawson. It was no surprise, then, to see the one-time sitcom actor sink his big-screen teeth into "The Running Man" as, you guessed it, a transparently scummy game-show host. Jeesh. At least Bob Barker had the decency to keep his alleged sexual indiscretions behind the scenes.


HONORABLE MENTIONS: Variety show/comedy legend Dick Smothers; and Bob Einstein, better known to some as the recently resurrected Super Dave Osborne and "Curb Your Enthusiasm" curmudgeon Marty Funkhauser (fun fact: Osborne actually starred alongside Dawson in a 1980 sketch-comedy special called "Bizarre").

It's the end of an era.

L.A. folks have been speculating for months about the rumored end of Oprah Winfrey's much-loved syndicated talk show -- and lately the buzz has been deafening. Now the hostess with the most-ess is set to officially announce the show's 2011 demise -- live on tomorrow's show.

"Tomorrow, Oprah will announce live on 'The Oprah Winfrey Show' that she has decided to end what is arguably one of the most popular, influential and enduring programs in television history," Tim Bennett, president of Oprah's Harpo productions, said in a letter to ABC affiliates obtained by Access Hollywood today. "The sun will set on the 'Oprah' show as its 25th season draws to a close on September 9, 2011."

"Oprah's personal comments about this on tomorrow's live show will mark a historic television moment that we will all be talking about for years to come," Bennett noted.

This news comes just weeks after a rep for Winfrey said that the talk show diva would give the official word on whether she'd be taking her show to her newly-formed Oprah Winfrey Network, aka OWN, after more than 20 years on network television. TV watchers speculate that the move to cable will cost Oprah some of her 8.5 million daily viewers, but won't diminish the Hollywood heavyweight's clout -- which only seems to be increasing with major bookings like Monday's chat with former Alaskan governor Sarah Palin.

Stay tuned for more scoop on this tomorrow.

As a young, TV-loving turk, I would settle into an evening by the tube with "Entertainment Tonight," awaiting its nightly roll call of that date's celebrity birthdays. Because what else could lullaby a pre-adolescent to sleep better than discovering Carol Channing just turned 65 or that Mccaulay Culkin was actually one year younger than myself? The answer? Doughnuts. Definitely doughnuts.

Anyhow, I figured I would begin honoring that tradition of blowing out the figurative candles for various famous folk with the launch of TV Buzz' Celebrity Birthday Of The Day. The rules for eligibility are simple: You must be instantly familiar to more than several thousand people (not including your Facebook friends), have experienced a pronounced period of your stardom via the small-screen and be either genuinely awesome or a really easy target for needless mockery.

So without further indigestion from cake-topping candy roses, I would like to wish a happy 73rd (and may he contradict all known principles of science and physics to engender another 73 more) to:


DICK CAVETT

While the Merv Griffins (for whom Cavett was a writer), Ed Sullivans, Johnny Carsons (whom he also ghost-scribed material for) and David Lettermans of the world tend to monopolize all the storied glory of being an iconic talk/variety-format host, let us not forget the intelligence, wit and subversiveness of Mr. Dick. His eponymous chat show was a pulpit for unforgettable interviews with everyone from Groucho Marx to, most famously, John Lennon and Yoko Ono (viewable above). And he also opened his stage doors to performances by the likes of David Bowie and Janis Joplin. And unlike other late-night contemporaries and followers, treated his musical guests as being equally, if not more, worthy of insightful Q & A as glamorous actors delivering canned press-junket banter. So kudos, Cavett, for being a too-often-unheralded pop-culture pioneer, and one of our all-time most memorable redheads. (Apologies to the Wendy's girl and Lindsay Lohan.)

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Fellow septugenerian Larry King and former "NBA Inside Stuff" host/Phylicia Rashad (aka Mrs. Huxtable) ex-hubbie, Ahmad Rashad

My apologies for taking this long to publish a reaction to Lady Gaga's tragi-comical promotional appearance on "Gossip Girl" the other night. And in case you were busy re-living Sunday's mixed-blessing installment of "Curb" on DVR or ironing the googly eyes out of your muppet-stitched evening gown, Ms. Germanotta uncoiled, Dracula-esque, from a plume of smoke looking uncannily like Marilyn Manson and lip-syncing more transparently than Milli Vanilli. (What? You got any other notorious vocal-miming examples?)

It was an almost depressingly self-fulfilling pop-culture moment. If Gaga's quasi-provocative antics and pseudo-intellectual Q & A ramblings hadn't already started spoiling her appeal in advance of its expiration date, then Monday's "Gossip" cameo (wink-wink as it may have been, given her own well-touted New York socialite upbringing) all-but-coffin-sealed it.

You see, these sorts of publicist-coordinated guest spots on teen dramas and sitcoms can, more often than not, act as a kind of "Madden Curse" for one's recording career. Just ask Color Me Badd or Tevin Campbell.

But then there are the occasional exceptions, instances when a musician and the creators of a primetime program possess mutual creative respect, or when a band acquiesces to their record label's urging and manages to emerge from the ultimately ill-conceived decision with integrity unscathed.

So below are just a few examples of memorable musical TV cameos that didn't prematurely assassinate the participants' future, and may have even been pretty inspired.


FLAMING LIPS ON "BEVERLY HILLS 90210"

In an episode that also incongruously featured music by house diva Cathy Dennis, "Love Hurts" will be forever remembered as part of that very bizarre moment in time when seemingly one-hit-wonder-bound Flaming Lips made the rounds on both MTV's Spring Break and FOX's venerable adolescent melodrama, performing their novel alterna-hit "She Don't Use Jelly." Before, of course, dipping back into semi-cult-obscurity for several more phenomenal albums, and then resurrecting themselves as a mainstream commodity on their own terms. Unfortunately, Warner Music Group are poopyheads and have removed the embeddable evidence of their Beverly Hills brouhaha, but I've included the actual video of the song so no one's retinas start bleeding in the absence of multimedia.


RADIOHEAD ON "SOUTH PARK"

In lieu of leaving you sans actual footage from Flaming Lips' "90210" stage-burner, I have included two—yes, that's right, a whole double-banger—snippets of video goodness from Radiohead's animated cameo in the classic "Scott Tenorman" must die episode. I suppose appearing as cartoon renderings of themselves was the only way that Britian's elusive rock demigods (who can be a bit like the J.D. Salinger of rock bands) would grace basic cable's airwaves.


THE DOOBIE BROTHERS ON "WHAT'S HAPPENING!!"

What's actually most improbable in the wake of this watershed musical cameo is that any viewers made it out alive from underneath the rubble of absolute ridiculousness. And really, where do a bunch of guys who named themselves after a joint getting off lecturing Rerun on illegal bootlegging? It would be like Ice-T reprimanding high school kids for drinking coffee. Or something like that.


R.E.M. ON "SESAME STREET"

Ah, redemption. Michael Stipe and the gang may have barely missed the cut for my recent rundown of celeb visitations to "Sesame Street," but they can breathe deeply within the solace that they've landed on this hallowed list. Also, this video is terrifying. Unless you can get past all the potential for decoding creepy inuendo and its overall resemblance to both the trajectory of an acid trip and this "Mr. Show" skit. That said, dolling up one of the muppets as a purple-fabric Kate Pierson was kind of amazing.


THE RAMONES ON "THE SIMPSONS"

Ramones - Happy Birthday (The Simpsons) @ Yahoo! Video

Hard to tell what's funnier here. Mr. Burns embodying every elder curmudgeon's misunderstanding of that damn rock 'n' roll by ordering Smithers to "have the Rolling Stones" killed, or witnessing The Ramones—punk's misanthropic, blandly outfitted icons—become both literally and figuratively more animated than we'd iever imagined possible.

Looks like the CW's scheming was successful.

The strategic return yesterday of original "Melrose Place" fan favorite Heather Locklear, who played conniving Amanda Woodward, has proven fruitful for the flailing soap, which has been struggling to get a ratings foothold since it premiered in September.

Locklear's much-hyped return garnered the show its best overall numbers since its October 6th airing, but also pulled in more impressive figures in key demographics like women 18 to 34 and women 18 to 49 -- plus an executive-pleasing increase of 20 percent in overall viewership. The better to sell Clairol ads with, you know?

Still to be seen is how well Amanda's audience-enticing return maintains the bolstered viewership. If Locklear manages to pull off a ratings increase for the rest of the season, it might just save the "Melrose" reboot from being killed off after its first season. And it wouldn't be the first time Locklear's pulled off such a feat. After all, that's exactly why she joined the cast of the original "Melrose" in the first place.

During the course of this fall TV solstice, I've vigilantly expressed my concern over three incredibly consequential world issues: the diminishing returns of this season's "Curb Your Enthusiasm"; the suddenly less dependable presence of its forebear, "Seinfeld," on syndication; and how I'm going to single-handedly fix this damned economy while saving all the earth's population from a cataclysmic apocalypse. Oh, wait, I confused myself with Danny Glover in "2012" on that last one.

Anyhow, I had a triumphantly uncomfortable blast watching this past Sunday's penultimate episode of "Curb," which finally delivered full-scale on its up-til-then over-hyped "Seinfeld" arc, arguably the most anticipated sitcom crossover since Lucy left Desi to have a rapturous affair with noted fictional racist Archie Bunker. OK, there's a good chance I'm getting my wires crossed again there.

Either way, the edification was short-lived. Last night, I was fortunate enough to cruise past classic "Sein" ep "The Boyfriend" hitchhiking through the wilderness of late-night FOX drudgery. I pulled over my remote control, told Jerry, Elaine, special guest star Keith Hernandez and the gang to get out of my dreams and into my living room, and buckled up for a half-hour ride of hilarity and warm familiarity.

Much to my dismay, however, I kept getting distracted by flashbacks to the aforementioned "Curb" episode. Images of the real-life Jerry, Julia-Louis, Jason and Michael doing table reads as their fictional alter egos during an improvised send-up of a never-materialized actual reunion were dancing through my head like horny devils (is there any other kind?). The fourth wall had been broken, and there was no going back through the looking glass. Or at least the comedy goblet.

It was like the holiday season losing its authenticity after I watched Hannukah Harry changing out of civvies and into his annual flannel menorah pajamas. Or accidentally stumbling into Dennys' kitchen, seeing how the sausage was made and never being able to order Moons Over My Hammy again.

This isn't to say I didn't already possess total intellectual understanding that "Seinfeld" was a fully produced, scripted and acted sitcom that broadly enhanced the real-world travails of its creative team. And like any Larry and Jerry devotee (or socially anxious hermit), I'd spent years poring over any extraneous material relating to the show for insight into its uncanny encapsulation of life's minor absurdities.

But sometimes, TV also needs to exist in a strange, sentimental bubble of reruns and personal association. It's that mysterious nexus—achieved most recognizably after years of ubiquitous syndication—in which a program becomes less an outpouring of a few peoples' creative consciousness and more a privately cherished source of comfort and meaning for millions of disassociated (and in my case, deliriously co-dependent) viewers. Even if that applies to network television's most successful unsentimental half-hour. Which is something both Larry and Jerry are acutely aware of, but unfortunately—no matter how self-aware or satirical their uprooting of the concept may be—not immune to or above.

I shall, of course, still watch the "Curb" finale. I'm not a masochist after all. But I fear that for every moment of meta-laughter gained in that climactic 60 minutes, a little bit of my relationship to its iconic antecedent will be irrevocably perverted.