I just finished watching my favorite TV reality show, Survivor. I’ve seen all 3,000 seasons. After we watched last week’s thrilling finale, my six year old daughter turned to me and said, “Hey, Mom! I know what you can do for a job! Go on Survivor!”
Oh, silly girl. Mommy wouldn’t last ten minutes. Why?
- I’d constantly tell the hunky young men to put on a shirt. And pull up their pants, get a damn haircut and a shave, for god’s sake.
- I don’t like insects.
- I like to eat.
- I don’t like to eat insects.
- On the first day, I would be banished to the ‘Over-40/Pre-Menopausal/Cranky Ol’ B’ tribe.
- After listening to Jeff Probst’s relentless and annoying play-by-play during the first immunity challenge, I’d haul off and punch him in the face and scream, “Shut up! Just shut up! For one goddamn second! Think you can manage that, huh? How ’bout some f***ing silence while I try to pull these f***ing puzzle pieces out of this stupid f***ing volcano!”
- I like to sleep without the threat of millipedes burrowing into my ear canal.
- No toilets.
- I’m a terrible liar. Halfway through a betrayal, I’d snort and laugh and say, “Naw, I was just messin’ with you! I love you! Don’t vote for me, k?”
- If anyone were to write my name down at Tribal Council, I’d burst into tears and wail, “Why? Don’t you like me? Is that it? Huh? Was it something I said? Why would you do this to me? Why?!”
- Sometimes the view on an island ain’t so pretty, dude.
- If Russell Hantz were to surprise everyone by suddenly zipping into the game on a helicopter, I’d have to haul off and horse punch him.
- Same goes for any and all siblings/offspring and/or nephews/nieces/uncles/aunts/pets/neighbors of Russell Hantz. I suspect at least one of them will be on the next Survivor. Possibly all of them.
- No toilets.
(Yeah, it bears repeating.)
- Maineiac Darla doesn’t have the same ring to it as Boston Rob