One survivor is a gay, one is throwing up, one is holding his team back, and one is a waiter.
Yeah, that's all Bobby Jon. FIRST ZING OF THE NEW SEASON ZING!
Welcome to Survivor: Guacamole...I mean, GAUTEMALALALALalalalala...la....la......la.
First off, allow myself to introduce...myself. I'm the one affectionately referred to by my peers (mom and her biker boyfriend) as the
Survivor Ninja.
I get the inside scoop on all things Survivor: production notes, fan insiders, former cast member feedback, etc. I gather this info, write it all down, burn it, smear the ashes on my face, take a nap, and then write the most absurdly bizarre and increasingly hilarious Survivor review in the history of written text... ever. As per the blog description, be warned, I don't care. I'll make fun of anything from retarded albino lesbian midgets, to, well, retarded albino hetero midgets (I have a very small following, but they understand me). Oh, and if you're French, gitdahellouttahere! For any information on ninjas, pirates, their relationship, and how much the French suck (big metal lady statue... thanks, ya stinky freaks!) visit your local library, or come to my house. It's down the street. No, not that one, the one with the front door. Yeah, right there. Be aware there will be:
- random thoughts translated into text and digitized for your enjoyment
- drunken, shabby hobos for no reason
- profanity that would make a Vietnamese hooker blush
- Vietnamese hookers
- strategically placed past-season references
If any of these things confuses you, you're pretty much gonna be ok. Except for those hookers. If you see ping-pong balls, duck and cover (They have wicked backhands!).
If you're not sure what to expect, please feel free to lick my ass. By "ass", I mean "previous season's posts", and by "lick", I mean "read", and by "feel free", I mean "give ice cream to the homeless!"
Intro: Camera pans down on Mayan ruin. Standing on the top, with the sun setting to his back is Jeff "Let God sort 'em out" Probst. He reaches down, pulls up a spider big as Rupert's beard, bites it in half, and looks to the camera. The words he utters haunt my dreams, and weakens my bladder:
"Welcome to Hell, bitches."
Well, that's how it should have started. The premiere episode starts, with much boredom, and Jeff introduces the 2 separated tribes two smallest pussies of the biggest pussy tribe in Survivor history: Steph (Yah!) and Bobby Jon (forgot he was alive). These two were chosen to lead the new contestants into what would be referred to by me as the scenery that fought back. The weather, the terrain, hell, even the trees were kicking these guys' asses halfway though their 11 MILE hike through the Latin American jungle brush. No poisonous snake or croc encounters, just mean ass plants, and dehydrated stud-monkeys. The guys that looked the most promising went down faster than Bobby Jon's credibility as a serious contestant. I mean, Beej (I get to call him Beej), come one, dude. You know jungles are hot, and that you really should give 110% of hard work the first day when we clearly saw last season that you're composed of about 75% hard work, and 35% primal screaming fits.
Back to the plot:
The survivors first surprise after the "Oh great, it's those two guys. What were their names again?" moment was the introduction of the idea that CBS is running out of money for the Survivor budget. I mean every other season involved boat rides, canoes, limo service, even sky diving into the starting camp sites, but 11 miles. Damn, Burnett, you're a mean mother. The hike got the best of the guys early on. No surprise there, seeing as how every single one of them wanted to show off their Outwit Outplay Outlast muscles by carrying tons of supplies through the jungle. Um, bad call douches. Besides, it's hard to dodge thorny, slow-moving plant matter when you're trying to impress the ladies into not voting your sorry ass off on the first council.
Nakum, or Bobby's Boys as my imaginary goldfish, Flippy, likes to call them, took the lead and got the good camp, the one with actual buildings, while Yaxha trailed, lost, and had to paddle their sorry asses back to their dirt patch they would now call home. The biggest problem I saw was where Steph and Bobby though they were being elected as team leaders, and started acting the part. To no one's surprise they added a couple of notches of resentment on their "Reasons why we should make them go away" lists. Poor tactical planning and an eagerness to make up for past aggressions caused both of the former (and soon to be again) losers to hustle their little useless asses off. Neither one was vital to a team triumph, nor was either praised for their presence. Backfire, much?
Immunity challenge consisted of a boat race, a tug-of-war competition, and an ancient Mayan method for both hauling boats to shore, and for breaking ankles of people stupid enough to stand in front of rolling logs. Nakum and Yaxha were tied for a bit, but more ankles were broken on the Nakum side, Yaxha limped to victory, and a trip to Painsville! I hear it's lovely this time of year. Jim, being the eldest of the survivors, and the least athletic, and, oh yeah, the least coherent of the group, forgot that it was an ankle-breaking challenge, and accidentally broke his arm instead. WHERE ARE MY PILLS? ZING! Honestly, if they think like Rudy, but look like Scout, keep them away from people who seriously have a chance to win the million. Trust me, it would just make for a better show, Mark, that's all.
Nakum went to tribal and, surprise freakin' surprise, Jim got a big torch snuffer mark across his ass on the way out. Man, I wish I had money to bet on him leaving first, 'cause I'd be rich, and in therapy again (I have a slight gambling problem, oh, that, and fecophilia; I just loves those, um,
fecos!)
Anyway, all and all, it was a good start, except nobody got killed. I like to start every season of my favorite shows with a cast death:
Lost: BAM! Dead people everywhere!
O.C. :Boom! Phone check, Trey, phone check!
Rome: Don't get me started, Pollo!
The King of Queens: See ya, Mr. Ben Stiller's real dad!
So there you have it. This is the first of many reviews for this season. Not all of them will be late, but be warned they're all moderately funny, and vastly disturbing. I rub cat eyeballs and my naked skin!
See what I mean?
Now, there's usually a section here where I address everyone individually and tell them what I think they're doing right/ doing wrong/ how bad they suck/ why they should die, whatever the case may be. Well, seeing as how the first episode has no real material or occasion in which I feel I should commit any of their names to memory, I will go ahead and talk to some people:
Gary - Seriously, unless you're name is Tom Boneham, and you love children's soccer, and you're mom died of cancer, and you're gay and love being naked, there's no way your QB career is going to seem threatening, loser. MULTIPLE SOLE SURVIVORS YOU'LL NEVER BE COMPARED TO ZING!
Various nurses on the island - Your instinct to care for people will bite you in your ass at some point during this game. Be warned.
Bobby Jon - Jesus Christ on a cracker, is it possible you're a bigger pussy than before. I guess so, Punky Brewster. RANDOM 80'S SITCOM THAT TAUGHT ME HOW TO LOVE ZING!
Blake - Um, duck next time. Trees don't kill people, people who don't move out of the way of trees do. Um, yeah. (That felt like an insult when I wrote it...)
Probst - Sorry I couldn't make Julie's birthday party. I heard the petting zoo and the clowns were kick ass! STOP RUINING THE YOUNG AND IMPRESSIONALBE ZING!
Pop. Poll:
This is a feature I introduced in last season's review to help the readers new to the series (New? Do you live in the Alps or something?) To introduce them to who's pulling the popular vote and who's being collective shat upon by an entire fan base. First impressions are hard to break, so it's no surprise that Steph is leading the pack with 50% of the pop. vote. Well, so far she's the only one with a personality (Yeah, Gary, football careers don't count you Tom wannabe). BJ is, of course, at the bottom of the list, like at Rupert's birthday party (just be happy you made the list, Bobby, and don't tell Osten that you got to go, ok?)
Rupert's corner:
We welcome back Rupert Boneham (allegedly) to the blog. He provides us with his view on the episodes, advice, recipes, and if you read carefully, you might just learn something.
"Ahoy bitch-nuts! It's me, Ru to the pert, here to tell you about skin cancer. It ain't just for rich kids anymore. Anyone can get it. Hell, I got a basil carcinoma the size of a buffalo nickel on the center of my chin. You'd never known 'cause my beard fights it daily, giving my 24 more glorious hours in which to teach teens the perils of underage sex... on drugs... without looking both ways to cross the street. I'm a multi-tasker. I need more pills over here, nurse."
Rupert doesn't always make sense, but we still love him. What, you said you love him, too! FAG!! Ha ha, I tricked you, unless you're a girl, in which case, you're smart 'cause Rupe's got like a ka-gillion dollars.
If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, fuck-off letters, chain mail, random forwards of a cat dancing to the Macarena, whatever, please send your mail to survivorninja@hotmail.com Yeah, I'm surprised I got it to, being such a popular name and all...
Tune in next week when:
1) Bobby Jon gets dehydrated fetching water for his team. Ironic, don't you think?
2) Probst catches a random ping-pong ball to the eye.
3) During a challenge Stephanie cries. Whether it's for joy, sorrow, or the thought of baby Janu, no one will ever know...
See ya, freakshow!