Survivor kicked off its 30th season last month with Worlds Apart set off the coast of Nicaragua. Once again I was glued to the TV like a contestant’s soggy underwear to their nether regions in the sweltering tropical heat. A few Mainers have competed on the show over the years, with one actually winning the grand prize. (Anyone remember Bob? Best season evah.)
This year we have this man to cheer on: Dan from Gorham.
Wow. Ayuh, he certainly looks like a true Maineiac. Some highlights of his quest for the million dollars: Nobody on his tribe can stand him, he peed on his own jelly fish sting and he’s free-balling it because he lost his undies in the ocean. Yee-ouch! Looks like he’s all chafed up with no place to go. I have no idea what that means.
Watching this middle-aged postal worker slog around the beach with his sweaty furry belly hanging out made me think, Dammit, if HE can do it, so can I! As luck would have it, I ALSO have a giant gut, and yes, it’s very furry and I can bitch and sweat like nobody’s business! (And if I had balls, you’d better believe I’d go commando, too.)
But before I send in my application, the rules of Survivor have to change slightly to accommodate me.
NEW SURVIVOR RULES
- Before my arrival entire area must be purged of spiders, no matter the size, and every single one sent to Exile Island.
- Before my arrival entire area must be purged of Russell Hantz and assorted Hantz relatives, no matter the size, and every single one sent to Exile Island.
- I must never be sent to Exile Island.
- My camp must be completely debugged and demonkeyed. As tantalizing at it sounds, Shirin, monkey sex is not a turn-on for me. But sloth sex? Fine in my book.
- Jeff Probst must never give his annoying play-by-play while I’m competing for rewards. Instead he will cheer, “GO DARLA! GO DARLA!” and wave a giant foam middle finger at the other contestants.
- All tribe rewards must be in the form of chocolate.
- I will be allowed to bring one luxury item from home and that item shall be a king-sized memory foam mattress with 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets embroidered with my fave celeb’s face.
- At every tribal council I will be permitted to stand up at random moments and scream Sue Hawk’s “You’re a snake and she’s the rat” speech directly at Jeff Probst but instead replace “snake” with “dick” and “rat” with “bastard”.
- At every tribal council I reserve the right to sit in Jeff Probst’s lap and whisper sweet nothings into his ear so I can make up for my most recent shameful outburst.
- At every tribal council whenever someone is voted off I will be allowed to do the cabbage patch dance, yell “Neener, neener!”, and blow raspberries directly into loser’s face while his/her torch is snuffed. After torch is snuffed I will be permitted to ceremoniously break torch in half then throw the pieces down like I’m dropping a mic while saying directly to the camera, “This is how I do.” (dramatic pause) “Boom.”
- No one is allowed to be completely naked at any time*. Except Jeff Probst, who shall be naked all the time.
If the producers of Survivor are reading this, and I know that they aren’t, please pick me to go on the next Survivor. I’m sure you could use yet another bitchy, sweaty, old fart like me on the tribe. This has been an especially long, cold, cruel winter here in Maine and nothing would cheer me up more than being voted off after three days.
*I will be naked the entire time.
Would you go on Survivor?
If yes, what would be your one luxury item from home?
If no, why not? It’s the spiders, isn’t it?