LAST EDITED ON 05-05-11 AT 05:18 PM (EST)Or how Raunchy equals Pudding
Here at the School of really Raunchy Ladies we are very grateful for having escaped the worst of Mother Nature's wrath, and refuse to succumb to the notion that it's some sort of sign that we should mend our wicked ways. That's just a silly notion. Crazy Nicaraguan talk. If that were true then we would have been knocked off our Vespa Hogs long ago, and not allowed to rape and plunder all those small defenseless towns and humiliate the local mayors and sheriffs and their hillbilly deputies. So enough of that kinda balderdash.
Those of us that were in the hot tub entertaining clients when the tornado came thru are actually very appreciative of the effects a twister can have on naked and frantically copulating bodies. Very unique and liberating. Oddly enough BTW, the scare factor actually enhances the climax. In fact we have our Wussy Cabana boys working on a tornado hot tub attachment. In addition to the Raunchy line of underwear and tee shirts with filthy slogans and fake armpit hair and sweat (and other) stains, we hope to make a lot of money off of those. We need a name for it. We are currently holding a contest to see who can come up with a good and Raunchy name. It has to be up to the standards one might expect from Raunchy Girls Inc.
Anyway the only one whose libido actually "shrank" from the effects of storm was our pal and secret insider information source, *not-Russell. He was so scared that for a while he turned into a raunchy Wussy girl himself. But he did provide a few tidbits of insider info.
Spoiler #1: As often happens when a castaway inserts a well meaning but misguided God reference into his or her expressed raison d'être, God had to take Mike aside and 'splain things.
God> "OK, when I told you last night to give it to the Omes, I mean that you should give it to them in the ass, not to give up your hard won privilege."
Mike> "Oh Crap God, I thought that when you sent my pelt buddy to me here on the Isle of St. Matthew's Purgatory, that now I was your favorite."
God> (Slaps forehead) "No. You ignorant bumpkin. You here to entertain the pygmies. St. Matt is still my boy. Now get back to picking those fleas off Ralph. He's itching again."
Spoiler #2: The Howler monkeys in the jungle are wondering where their cousin Ralph when to. They miss their little buddy a'howling their song.
Spoiler #3: Steve gets tossed from the game on a technical.
Spoiler #4: Phil gets another self-promotion, now he's a Senior Statesman. When Hillary heard this news she began to plan for a Predator strike on the island, and loaded Phil's photo into the nav-unit for a couple of Tomahawk missiles.
You don't mess with the "Hillary", she has an ex-presidential penis on her key chain to prove it.
She is apparently unaware that his self-promotion began as an inmate in the Bellevue Institution for the very silly and insane feather headed Bullshido artists.
Spoiler #5: After his Dreds ate his face off, Grant was replaced with a wild man from Borneo. Very surprising that no one at TC notice the substitution.
(* legal disclaimer.)
Tribal Art{Remember folks cut and paste "Because Spoiler to the stars, MissyPissy says so!" in your voting thread on spoilers. Don't let me down. I'm financing this spoiling gig out of my own pocket, and it's getting serious.}