STRANGER THAN FICTION: THEY SHOULD MAKE A REALITY SHOW ABOUT ME

Hold on to your rat meat, folks, the winning "Survivor" participant will be named in just one night!

Around here, people are treating the final "Survivor" episode like the Super Bowl. Fans are planning parties, putting down bets and comparing "Survivor" stats with friends.

Not me. I simply couldn't let myself get hooked on another television show. I'm already in for "Law & Order," "Frazier" and the "Sopranos" -- and those are just the ones I might DIE without seeing. (I'm too afraid to test that theory.) A re-run filled summer is helping me accomplish some housework, but I may as well be married to the TV during the regular season.

Even non-viewers know a little bit about "Survivor" It's about 16 people placed on a remote island for 13 episodes and forced to overcome challenges as they vote each other off the show. The losers get a night on a luxury yacht and some consolation prizes, and the winner receives a cool $1 million.

It received plenty of media coverage for being the top-rated reality show on television. I tuned in for a few minutes one night in time to see poor Gervase voted off the island. He handled it calmly, whereas I would have yelled, "Thank you! Thank you! Now where's that yacht with the buffet!?!?" I also checked out "Survivor" facts on cbs.com.

Apparently, the most popular "luxury item" taken along by participants was a journal. I'd have to go for the tweezers like Susan, the truck driver from Wisconsin.

Being stranded on a desert island is no excuse for untamed eyebrows!!! I've been regularly watching another reality show -- "The Real World" on MTV. Watching that show is a deplorable activity for a healthy 30-year-old female, but I just can't help myself. The reality TV genre sucked me in.

I think it's because the new episodes are set in New Orleans, my favorite American city. (But I wouldn't want to live there.) And I'm baffled by the concept that people could be given a gorgeous home just outside the French Quarter, cute roommates of both genders and jobs that require only 20 hours per week and STILL manage to whine incessantly about their lives.

I guess that's why 30-year-olds aren't the show's target demographic, and nobody on the show is over 23.

At 23, you're more likely to listen to your roommates' whining and try to talk things out, using phrases like, "One person CAN make a difference!" and "I respect your feelings, but you really hurt me when you used that word/borrowed my sweater/didn't clean the bathroom." At 30, you're more likely to say, "You! Off my planet!" and go on with your life.

I'm considering filing an age discrimination lawsuit against MTV, forcing them to make me a "Real World" roommate for the next round of tapings. With my luck, they'll move the show to Toledo.

In the meantime, why not make a show about my life and the exciting people I encounter? Here's how I see the basic content for one day: I get up and dress in complete darkness, trying to feel the difference between a beige and navy pump while not disturbing the rest of my night-shift-working husband. The viewer will be fascinated to see how I extract information from him while he sleeps.

Heidi: Sweetie? Where did you park my car after you borrowed it last night?

The Other Half: MMmmmpphhhtt.

Heidi: On the north side of the apartment building, you say?

TOH: Rrrrlllllgggbbbrn.

I begin my exciting commute to work, listening to National Public Radio and eating my PowerBar. How riveting! The excitement mounts again around lunchtime, when 50 employees jockey to warm their meals in a single microwave. The dialogue is tense and engages the viewer.

Heidi: Um, how much longer do you think yours will take?

Co-worker: Five minutes, just like the timer says.

Heidi: Oh. Thanks.

Co-worker: No problem.

(Long silence.)

Heidi: Sooooo, it's really hot today, huh?

I finish out my exciting day of placing unreturned phone calls and arguing with New York transplants to South Florida, then commute home, where dirty laundry awaits me. After a conversation with a neighbor about her poodle's arthritis, I start four loads of clothes in the laundry room and sit down to a turkey sandwich.

I fold the clothes in front of the TV. Hey! I could watch a reality TV show! How clever is THAT? Of course, I follow the television watching with surfing the Internet and going to bed.

Anyway, that's my idea. I have to go now. I expect a television executive will call any moment.

Heidi Nieland is a former Southeast Missourian staff writer who lives in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.