Wednesday, July 07, 2004

Outback Yak

In lieu of my regular ‘Survivor’ cheese hour of television, I have developed an unholy addiction to the newest train wreck of reality broadcasting, ‘Outback Jack’. What can I say? I need my regular fix of crappy television programming to keep me regular as well as to alleviate those normal stresses of working in my office place and the constant plotting and backstabbing among my fellow coworkers by kicking back and relaxing on the couch with a bowl of Frito’s and watching other people stress out during their own plotting and conniving schemes as they manipulate and backstab one another in order to get one step further towards winning a million dollars. In some small capacity, it‘s like I never left work at all, except that there is no million dollars at the end of the day and no half naked exotic jungle boobies to ogle...unless you count the Eastern European girl that sometimes sits in the cubicle across from me. But I digress.

In ‘Outback Jack’, a dozen bleached blonde bikinied babe's whose only experience at “roughing it” would be that they once attended a catered luncheon in Central Park, and whom have the combined intellect of a discounted waffle iron, all vie for the attention and affection of one lucky single Crocodile Dundee type man in the middle of the Australian Outback. Yep, there’s nothing like uptown store-bought daddy’s princesses all bitching, whining and moaning about bugs, weather, their rural setting, their nails, their split ends, camel spit and of course, each other, to satisfy an hours worth of mindless television viewing. It’s everybody’s Porky’s fantasy come true! I feel like Pee-Wee getting a sneak peek into the girls locker room after high school gym class.

What really cracks me up is that this Aussie Casanova for whom this debacle of a television is being played out for is constantly complaining about how difficult it is to have to eliminate these girls one at a time and how awful it is to make these hard decisions based on “real connections” he has made during the course of this caveman dating game. Yeah, that must be REAL tough watching a group of uber-babes all completing to be your bitch and having to decide each week, which one you’d least like to bone, and send her packing. Poor fuckin’ baby! Suck back another Fosters mate, and deal with it Jacko!

Any other single red blooded male on this planet would swim the entire Great Barrier Reef with hunks of raw seal flesh hanging out of their swim trunks, or allow themselves to be sodomized by a giant sawfish in order to have the opportunity to have hot models in fuck-me dresses compete with one another to catch and prepare them a fish dinner and the privilege of being their undivided sex slave till death do them part. Shit, I’m tickled fuckin’ pink if anyone so much as winks at me on their way to the staff bathroom on their way to pinch a loaf after consuming their KFC “Value Meal” at lunchtime.

If I were the studly ‘Outback Jack’, I would be relishing every juicy, fleshy moment. Not cranking on about having to eliminate one of the girls from the competition each week! I’d be all laid back in a hammock come elimination time, chowing down on a quarter pound Kangaroo burger served on a silver platter by Aborigines servants as my platoon of buxom bimbo’s duke it out in thong bikini’s in bouts of Foxy Boxing inside a swamp laden with killer crocodiles, or wrestling one another inside a ring filled with vegemite. Now, THAT’S entertainment!

The victorious Sheila would be rewarded with the honor of cleaning up my plates and silverware afterwards, fetching me another frosty Fosters out of the cooler, and giving me a handjob while I finish watching the rest of the Cricket match on the tele. Our “alone time” later in the evening would entail her to perform a strip tease and lap dance for me to old INXS tunes while I spank her with a boomerang.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

LMAO!!! it would be much more entertaining to watch you in the outback! That is GREAT!!!

4:18 PM  

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