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"BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít Thin..."
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George Tirebiter 2982 desperate attention whore postings
DAW Level: "Howard Stern Show Guest"

07-16-01, 08:34 PM (EST)
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"BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít Thin..."
Sorry, shakes, it's another long one. At least I've compensated somewhat by skipping the bullsh°t recap stuff at the beginning of the episode. If you've arrived here without a clue, please go back and read Midway! the incredible, amazing recap episode from last week!

BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít Think Weíre in Kansas Any More, SnoopySucks!

DAY 23 The cicadas are already buzzing in the heat as the sun arises in the middle of the Red Sea. Our castaways are awakened by the din of a helicopter overhead; they stumble to their feet, transfixed at the sight of their tent breaking loose from its moorings, as it comes crashing on top of their still-unsorted pile of belongings from the hasty move to the new campsite.

Survivorerist appears over the knoll, carrying the dayís catch of suspiciously red fish from the retention pond. He absent-mindedly drops them at OFGís feet as he stares at the chopper--and then is distracted by a flash of color peeking out from under the corner of what used to be the tent (brought to you by our proud sponsors at Coleman!)

Survivorerist: OMG! I always LOVED those! Shakes promised me a pair, but I thought he forgot about Ďem before he left. . .

He wrenches a pair of size 40 red leather shoes off the feet--which promptly shrivel up and disappear.

The Eye In The Sky helicopter lands a few feet away, and two familiar faces emerge--yes, itís the EGG sleuths, EBug and GG, microphones and cameraman at the ready. George Tirebiter seems oblivious to the dust in her gaping mouth, as she ogles GG--who has assumed a Marilyn Monroe pose whilst the rotors waft his kilt up around his waist. The other women abandon their ridicule of her preference after learning first-hand that it is indeed the custom to enjoy the contrast of the coarse tartan against bare skin. . . EBug shoves her microphone in the closest face

EBug: Is it true that the producers of Blowsvivor are manipulating the outcome of the show? We have had several reports that the fix is in to assure an all-female Final 4--can anyone substantiate this? (to the camera) That Kismet is EVIL, I tell you--I just know sheís up to no good!

AyaProbe storms out of his trailer wearing only a bathrobe--and his toupť is on backwards.

AyaP: What the hell is going on here?! You people arenít authorized to land in the middle of our set! (He manhandles the cameraman and breaks the tape.) Where the hell are those clowns from security? and why wasnít our airspace protected?! (He continues shoving the news crew back into the chopper. As a large contingent of security midgets surrounds the crew, we see a small figure swoop from the opposite side and land amid the camp rubble.)

ItzLisa: HaHAAA! You BitchingBores thought Bubbles was too nice for this game, huh? Well, Iíll show you! She grabs a couple objects from the pile. Think you can get away with writing ME out of the show, do you, Outfrontgirl? (brandishes OFGís bong) Well, howdíya like THESE apples?! And YOU--Mon Cherie--Iím taking THIS (clutches spandex tiger suit in the other hand) to send you a message from VampKira! Your ass is grass, you hussy!

MonCherie Um. . . thatís Dangerkittyís. . .

ItzLiza (oblivious to her mistake) You people make me SICK, you know that?! And Iím here to tell you that you havenít seen the last of Bubbles--there are enough ambulance-chasers on these boards to ensure I get my way onto Blowsvivor 2! Me and my funbags will show you hoís how nice I can be. . . (evil laughter)

Bubbles retreats into the helicopter as itís hurried away under threat of the heavily-armed security force.

AyaP: Well? What the hell are you people gaping at? Get your asses back to work! (storms back into his trailer, clutching his robe and hair as the gale subsides)

Everyone looks in amazement

GT: It is just too fucking early for this kind of sh°t. . . I say we fire up Goldie before we even think about breakfast.

OFG: Agreed. What was with that Bubbles, anyway? Is she too flaky to remember weíve only got about four more bongs in this camp? hehehe

RudyRules: Say, you girls oughtta get a move on. I say a hearty breakfast is just the thing before we get serious about moving this camp to higher ground.

IceCat: The codger is right--and while you do that, Iím going to check out this map and see if I canít find us some tree mail. If my calculations are correct, the only tree for miles will be at the top of that highest peak. (gestures upwards)

sleeeve: I was going to say that, man. . . and you know what? I bet itís burning, too!--not that we need the fire, mind you. . . as an Eagle Scout, I bet you I can still build one in less than two minutes!

As Tweeedledum and Tweeedledeee head up the hill--fighting over the map the whole way--GT and OFG glare at all three men, then begin preparation of the first real meal at the new site.

OFG & GT: singingOh, Womaaaan is the nigger of the woooorld, yes she is, if you donít believe me, take a look at the one youíre with. Womaaaan is the slave to the slaaaave, yeah. . .

{Interview with RR}
RR: Iím thinkiní this old codger is doing pretty well to have lasted to the merge. So far, my ďunder the radarĒ act is working pretty sweet. If that last old coot could hide the fact that he had his own bank, I think it should be pretty easy to conceal the fact that Iíve got me a Masters degree in Thinkology. . . (sly look as he taps his temple and chews a piece of straw)


IceCat and sleeeve return with tree mail--and green goggles for all.

sleeeve: . . . no, I get to read it!

Just when you thought this gig couldnít get any stranger
Your journey begins to harbor some danger
If mutant fish and no plant life does not give you pause,
You really deserve the name given you DAWs.

So put on your glasses to lend you an air
of more lucious surroundings while you tackle this dare.
Hike your asses over to the place where Pharaoh stood
To see if your balance is really that good.

Your teamwork should now be a thing of the past
As you fight against each other to see who can really last.
Snarf your rice and get moving, so AyaP wonít be pissing
If heís late for cartoons, your reward youíll be missing!

Survivorchick: Hot damn! A physical challenge--all my time in the gym should pay off here.

Survivorerist: Iím gonna wear my new shoes! If this is a balance game, they should give me an edge.

MonCherie: Oh. . . my. . . gawd. . . No one ever said this was going to involve so much WALKING! And this dustbowl is making for major chafing where my teddy thongs. . . ssshhhhhaughh (eyes roll)

IceCat: I really canít see why we have to wear these goggles. . . I mean--the elastic is going to wreak havoc with my hair.

GT rolls her eyes and proceeds to trade grooming duties with him. As they take turns undoing tangles and braiding each othersí hair, the other women get catty:

{aside with Schick, DK, and MC:}
Damn. I really was hoping she was gay. . .
Damn, I really was hoping to get my claws into that Cat. . . heís purrrrrrrfectly gorgeous.
Damn, ever since she got that Playboy centerfold, no one even cares about my hopes for a Victoriaís Secret shoot! Iím NEVER going to get sex here, I just know theyíre editing me wrong!And Iím not so sure youíre wrong about her. . . have you noticed sheís starting to develop some suspiciously batty canines?

{aside with GT}
MC knows I have a score to settle for Vamps. . . but I canít really say I care. I mean--sheís one of those bar floozies who has to throw herself at EVERY man she meets! Donít these young girls know theyíd get farther if theyíd pick ONE appropriate guy and quit alienating all the other females? I mean--how smart do you need to be to realize every conversation cannot revolve around YOU?! (glares at camera and flashes her pearly . . . fangs?)


The DAWs are now assembled for their hike--green goggles in place (and they suddenly appreciate the friendlier glow it gives the place)--and they head across the Eleven Commandments set toward the impatiently awaiting AyaProbe. Sensing danger, IceCat twitches nervously, the entire trek. RudyRules is similarly pensive as he overthinks every step, and sleeeve (who recalls the promise of danger in the tree mail message) keeps being alarmed by the sound of his own knees rattling together. Survivorerist--frequently stumbling in his new shoes--clutches a spot between the others. The women are fairly oblivious to the journey--either too mellow to care, or wrapped up in hushed conversation. As they arrive at their appointed spot, a shadow passes overhead and a wicked cackle is heard

Mistofleas: (circling overhead on her Hoover) HAAAA HA HA HA-HAAA! You fools! Donít you know whoís in charge here?! How dare you deviate from the script, AyaP! Kismet will get you, my pretty--and your little dog, too!! (she continues her flight until it is clear that she has spelled ďSurrender AyaProbeĒ with her contrail, then disappears)

AyaP: Yeah, whatever. (shrugs) Okay, Weenies--now that youíve finally hauled your lazy asses over here, itís time for a little balancing act. (he motions over the rise to a giant plastic mat covered with colorful spots) This little challenge comes to you courtesy of our fine sponsors at Milton Bradley. Yes, kids, itís TWISTER!tm Youíre going to remove your shoes, assume your positions around the perimeter of this grid, and play a little Simon Says with your good friend Aya. The fact that itís mid-day now--and youíre all good and sweaty from your hike through the dustbowl--should make for a fairly brief experience, which may or may not make up for that last TC debacle. . . You are playing for a food reward from another fine sponsor, as the added security measures have necessitated scraping the barrel for more income.

You people know that lousy BB2 is already on the air? If we donít wrap this crap up before Love Cruise shows its ugly mug, Blowsvivor is SURE to tank in the ratings--so youíd damned better well keep smiling, and donít be afraid to flash a few goodies! If you donít maximize your endorsement potential, you people will miss your fifteen minutes before you even reach Loserboy Island!

Much grumbling ensues as the DAWs take their places. RudyRules, suffering from excessive toejam buildup in his army boots, slides off and is disqualified immediately.

OFG: I TOLD you people I have a floppy retina! I think itís patently unfair that you have chosen to subject me to this grid--which would obviously give seizures to any garden-variety epileptic! You had better hope this doesnít compromise my position in the game, or Iím joining that little Bubblehead in her suit for compensation! Iíve done the paralegal shtick, you know, and Iíve got all the time in the world to back myself up! (OFG stumbles away, rubbing her eyes)

Soon after this outburst, GT gives a wink in several directions and abandons the game, citing her old knee injury and sinus headache from bending over. sleeeve and IceCat, no thanks to their manly physiques, succumb to their off-kilter center of gravity and topple soon after. Surv--despite his sound footing from refusing to remove his shoes--soon cowers under the glare of the remaining women.

Dangerkitty: You might as well give up, girls. . . youíre dealing with a pro here. Not only do I have years of yoga behind me, Iím liable to Chi Kung your asses! Give it up now, I say!

This seems to infuriate the other two. Schick attempts to cop a feel, and is promptly roundhoused onto her butt in the middle of a puddle of sweat in the center of the mat. MC attempts a stare-down with DK as they wrangle for spots, but is soon unbalanced by her own fit of picque. DK wins the RC.

DK: Meoooowwrrrrrrrrr. . . . What did I win?!

AyaP: Congratulations, kitty--you are now the proud recipient of Auntie Emís Moleskin Cookiesģ, the cookies with a whole mole inside! Theyíre delicious--and economical, too! You just eat Ďem, wipe Ďem off, eat Ďem again! Thatís Auntie Emís Moleskin Cookiesģ Here ya go--now get your butts back to camp--Iíve got Powerpuff Girls in like ten minutes. (he hops into a golf cart and whooshes away)

The mood on the walk back to camp is incredulous.

DK: What the hell kind of reward was THAT?! These are the most disgusting things Iíve ever seen! (she tosses the bag as she stomps along--and it is quickly adopted by MC)

MC: I shouldíve won the challenge anyway. . . And--heeeey! these arenít bad! And urp! you really CAN eat them over and over!!


DAY 25

Thanks to the efforts of just about everyone (except MC, who is still eating those cookies, and Surv, who is polishing the grit off his shoes. . .) the camp has now been pretty much moved to higher ground--about where Moses stood. Although RR is still playing it cagey about his survival know-how, sleeeve and GT have masterminded some pioneering feats learned at summer camp, IceCat has foraged some game, and DK has ingratiated herself by filling the water jugs with some fairly foamy river water and has boiled a quantity for food purposes. The goggles have remained on, as they lend a more relaxed feeling to the landscape.

AyaP suddenly appears from his trailer, and is dressed in his finest Lone Ranger ensemble.

AyaP: Greetings, peons. Today weíre going to play a little game for immunity--a game I like to call Texas Hold-Em. sleeeve, you have your cards with you?

sleeeve: Why yes, of course--theyíre my ticket to staying popular with everyone during those boring times in-between. . .

AyaP: Thank you, Iíll just borrow them for a while. (takes cards) Now we all know the secret to winning at cards is knowing when to hold Ďem and when to fold Ďem, am I right? (all mumble in agreement) That was never so true as right now, because I am about to give each of you a card, and your immunity will depend on your ability to stand pat and keep your poker face! (deals cards to all) I want you to all line up there--and you, sleeeve, can be the first one up. (Aya faces sleeeve toward the other contestants)

OFG: Aya--we donít get tree mail for this?

AyaP: No, you donít. That last one was so lousy, I decided to skip this one. These writers need to learn that elementary rhyming doesnít make up for a lack of meter!

Now sleeeve--I want you to take this (hands sleeeve one of Daltonís pearl-handled six shooters) and take careful aim at the card the next contestant is holding--yes, I WOULD hold it out as far as possible, RudyRules. . . You have six shots to make that card as small as possible. You will each fire in turn, and the holder of the smallest card will face off with the best shot. If you hit your opponent, you are both disqualified. This challenge is brought to you by the NRA and Smith & Wesson. (Aya gestures toward the hilltop, where Charlton Heston--in robe and beard--waves toward the group.) Ready?

sleeeve: Um. . . Aya? I donít think this is the best idea. . . I mean--sure, I got my merit badge for BB guns, easy!--but how good are the rest of these people? Arenít there union rules or watchdog groups that will frown upon this? And what about my cards?! I wonít even have enough left for a game of pinochle!

AyaP: Thatís what separates the men from the boys in poker, sleeevie! Now. . . SHOOT!

sleeeve sighs, then takes careful aim at RudyRulesí card, and blasts two-thirds of it away. RR manages to keep his nerve until sleeeve announces he canít bear to take his last shot.

RudyRules demonstrates his skill by quickly piercing Survivoreristís card in several places--but never actually diminishing the overall size.

Surv takes aim at Survivorchick, whispers to her that he has enough experience at Whack-a-Moleģ that she can trust his aim--then quickly falls into a heap, declaring his desire to spare her so that she can make good on her promise to make him a man. . .

Schick fires once at IceCat--barely missing his head--and runs shrieking behind a hill when this results in a fearsome roar.

IceCat manages to carve away GTís card, however leaves a large part hanging--until the last second. He throws the gun down in disgust, thinking heís blown it--and it misfires and parts Schickís hair as she peeks over the hill. Cat disqualified for the beanball.

GT demonstrates her years of expertise at Nintendo and clips Dangerkittyís card close enough to trim a claw with it--drawing giggles from MonCherie.

DK, pissed at the breakage, tries to substitute her whip at MonCherieís card. . . MC has a hissy fit and stomps off to join Schick behind the hill. Outfrontgirl calmly takes her place and hangs on while DK struggles to hit the card at all.

OFG takes the final stance, aims the gun at sleeeve. . . pauses to question the sanity of using firearms at all--and is quickly chastised from on high by Charlton Heston. . . pauses again to ask how the thing even works, and when she bends over to peer at the chambers to see if there are even any bullets in it, the gun misfires and leaves sleeeve with a quarter inch of card falling to the ground as he makes a sudden dash to find the latrine.

AyaP: (surveying the damage) Alright, people--we have two winners. OFG gets the best shot, GT has the smallest card--sleeeve, you were supposed to HOLD ĎEM! Ladies, take your position here at the podium. . . Left hand behind you, right hands together. . . now--THUMB WRESTLE! The winner takes all.

The two make a half-assed attempt at competing, then GT smiles and loses her balance. OFG is awarded the Immunity Condom Necklace, which is presented by Mr. Heston, with his smarmiest gun-loviní smirk and a transparent GIF at the bottom of the screen hawking the NRA as a purveyor of good, clean family fun and our God-given right to bear arms.



The Blowsvivors are obviously shaken by their first truly dangerous encounter of the game. sleeeve, who still had fond memories of his last experience--and high hopes for the future--finds the former BBís first aid kit, complete with their allotment of Exstacy. . .

sleeeve: Hey, gang--I donít know about you, but Iíve got a headache that could beat the band. Whaddya say we use up these aspirin before heading over to TC?

Survivorerist: Iím all for that, sleeeve! I tell you, I feel so close to each and every one of you right now, you just canít imagine the stress Iím feeling at the prospect of having to vote against any of you tonight! (screws up his face in obvious torment--then turns from the group and rolls his eyes)

GT and OFG exchange knowing glances, but join the cult in their ritual. . . In no time at all, the party is in full swing.

{aside with OFG, who has assumed a position on the Moses rock, overlooking the crowd}
Yeah, I knew this wasnít aspirin--and I normally prefer a much more natural high--but this is no time to go setting myself apart from the group. Besides, it sounds like Monkeyboy and his power trio on the next lot, so Iím feeling pretty good about things right now. This could be fun.

The rest of the contestants seem also to feel no pain. DK and IceCat are strutting circles around each other, reminiscent of his old porn flicks. Yes, heís only wearing a scrunchy--and it isnít on his hair!

Surv and OFG have located AyaPís cooler stash, and are greedily picking out the best popsicles to enjoy in the late afternoon heat. GT joins in--and the ladies remove their shirts and bask on that rock, driving RudyRules and sleeeve into apoplexy with their popsicle antics.

MonCherie has a major conniption at the realization that all the good guys are once again ďtaken,Ē and she storms off into the Red Sea with Schick in hot pursuit. . . They make it as far as the debris left by Pharaohís army, and are last seen huddling together in one of the chariots.

{aside with GT}
Damn--itís always about sex with those two. . . that is NOT what I came here for, I tell you--I am NOT going to screw up my position here by fucking around with one of the other contestants! . . . although I AM feeling a little bit antsy right now. . . If Kismetís cute delivery boy was to make another entrance, Iím afraid Iíd nail him on the spot. . .hehehe (spaces off dreamily, with a wicked Mr. Spock eyebrow) uhhhhhhhhh. . .

At this point, a thunderous sound and flurry of movement appears on the bed of the Red Sea. . . an animal is heard to roar

whine-o:YES, Iíve been a bad, bad boy--and you just KNOW I donít mean it when I say Iím sorry! HAHAAAAH!

Several explosions occur on the set as he disappears--compromising the gate on the flood waters. whine-o is heard to howl in pain as a misfire singes his horn. Hinges snap, metal crumples, and suddenly the former campsite is awash. Debris is whooshed around like socks in the Maytagģ (logo appears for another fine sponsor) and the waves crash against the Moses rock to the delight of the dehydrated X-ers. The revellers are surprisingly nonplussed by it all, as it simply seems to be a logical part of the grand scheme of things--the drugs, the throbbing music, the depraved behavior, the awesome waves.

At this point, a giant clown-head appears--and it seems to be breathing fire! AyaP storms out of the production trailer . . . and then blanches at the sight of it.

shakes: I TOLD you all this would SUCK without me!! You and your scab writers--youíve driven this thing into the ground! You idiot, Aya--even BigBrother2 is a better read than this! Youíre in for a mid-season cancellation for sure, asshole!

Suddenly, the sky darkens. A swarm of rejects from Monkeyboy Island swoops down upon the camp, terrorizing the less experienced drug-users. A pair of them pins Survivorerist to the ground while another pair wrenches the shoes from his feet.

Surv: Noooo! Shakes promised me shoes like his! Theyíre mine, I tell you!

shakes: Surv, you twit--you have no business with those, you donít know how to use their power! They were in possession of my brother, bakes--and now theyíre back where they belong, with ME! (Surv quivers in a heap)

Two more fallen monkey-butlers find SnoopySucks, who has been hiding out this whole episode in the camp refuse pile, in an attempt to avoid further lousy lines that refer to her as a male. They stuff her into a basket and fly away with her, to the delight of the cackling clown

shakes: RudyRules, RudyRules! Are you frightened? I have your stupid little dog now, and Iím not giving him back until notshakes writes an episode! You boobs will NEVER find out where Iím hiding! (the most evil and lenghthy of laughs ensues)

Suddenly, we notice a monkey swinging from the production trailer door. Kismet is inside, frantically trying to figure out how to work the control panel--various dissolves and filters further confuse the picture.

AyaP: Ignore that woman behind the door! This is all a joke--get that clown head off the set and cut film!

Kismet fumbles frantically with the set-up, as smoke begins to trail from one of the DATs. sleeeve, ever the loyal scout, instinctively grabs a fire bucket from the campsite and rushes to fling it inside the trailer.

Kismet:OOOH! You cursed boy! What have you done?!! (she begins to crumple and ooze a foul-smelling smoke) Ohhh--who wouldíve thought that such a good little boy could bring down my beautiful wickedness. . . OOOOooohhhhh. . . what a world, what a world. . . . And I didnít even manage to get Pen enough votes for his comedy gig. . . . AAAAaaaarrggghhhh. . .

sleeeve faints dead away, shocked that he didnít see this coming. In a semi-conscious state, he mutters something. DK looks frantically for an oil can, until GT glares at her ignorance and takes charge

GT: He said ďboiled ham,Ē you nit! (before DK can panic about how to open it, GT slices through the lid with the Swiss Army knife--sleeeve is revived by the smell of Spamģ) I swear--reality teevee is for people like you, who canít handle drugs! (glares at DK)

IceCat, suddenly sensing an opportunity, looks furtively around and makes a beeline over the hill. He is promptly chased back by a menacing beach ball the size of a Volkswagenģ.

AyaP stands before Kismet with his mouth agape, then turns to the clown in amazement

Ayap: What have you done? You. . . youíve killed her! . . .

shakes: Those are the breaks in Hollowwood, pinhead! POOF!! (shakes disappears)

AyaP simply shuts himself in his trailer--presumably to get his head straight by watching an Indians game.

And the two missing tribe members? Last seen being pulled from the Red Sea by the EITS chopper--both limp and apparently lifeless.

Just when we assume the rave will go on into the wee hours, a benevolent face appears in the clouds--itís Dalton, and sheís waving her magic peace pipe to spread mellowness to all, undoing the harsh edge the X and all these activities have caused. . . The revellers stare up in unison.

Dalton: Listen up, you a-holes--Dalton ainít finished with you, yet! Didnít I tell you not to mess with Mother Nature? Well, in light of all the crap thatís gone down here today, Iím going to take it easy on you, because thatís the kind of good-natured girl I am--if only youíd had the brains to find it out before you booted my ass! Now get your heads in this game--and win it for the WOMEN! (Dalton disappears in a flash of lightning)


Come time for TC, the Blowsvivors are still pretty much immobilized, enjoying the mellow at the end of their highs. The mood is broken by AyaP, once again exploding from his trailer, cell phone in hand.

AyaP: Time to get your heads out of your collective asses, you losers--do you even have a remote clue as to what youíre supposed to be doing about now?! (barely inquisitive looks are cast about) Time for a VOTE--remember? You people really are hopeless. Well, lucky for you, weíve had another catastrophe, and youíve been spared having to make a decision in your sorry state. In case you havenít noticed, your little group is two short--Iíve just been told the slut and the dyke were washed away in the wrath of the rhino. They didnít even have the courtesy to pull a Skupin while a cameraman was nearby--this is gonna suck for the ratings!

Can anyone lay their hands on their personal effects? (Survivorerist clutches their 8 X 10s, getting tears all over Schickís) Give me those. (AyaP rips them from his hands) This makes for a terrific Tribal Council, doesnít it?! (Aya glares into the camera, brandishing the pix in his fist) Well, here you go, America--double carnage for the price of one! (he rips their photos into small pieces and flings them with some force at the camera lens) If I EVER take on this kind of responsibility again, somebody be so kind as to SHOOT ME, okay?! (Charlton Heston nods in assention as AyaP wheels around and disappears back into the production trailer)

The castaways quickly resume their sprawling on the banks of the Red Sea, and IceCat entertains them all with his furtive sonar blips.


As the credits roll, we are taken to a scene inside a hospital ward, where Schick and MC are sharing a room.

Schick: Man, Iím just glad to be outta that mess. At this point, Iím so disgusted with shakes for getting me into this, I donít care if I EVER get my fifteen minutes! Yep. . . I think when I get outta here, Iím gonna see if I canít lure that Viking character with the promise of a round of golf; from what I hear, his wifey sounds like she just could be my cup oí tea. . . (wicked smirk)

MC: Yeah, well I was getting tired of all the dirt and hard work and pointless posing in my underwear. The Bible-thumping got me nowhere in the game and the occasional breast falling out of my clothes did nothing to get me the sex I was after. . . Now that Iím here, Iím thinking I might have better luck with a rich. . . . . . . . . Ooohhhhh! Doooctor! (smiles flirtatiously)

A handsome man with lab coat and horn-rimmed glasses smiles back at her. . .

Clark: Why, Iím not a doctor--but I could play one on TV! hehehe No maíam, Iím just here from Hematology--gonna take your blood sample for the night.

He smiles disarmingly at the feeble-minded girl, then drops his glasses for the camera. . . and from underneath his lab coat we see a pair of blood-red eyes and hear a heart-stopping rasp

VampKira: I TOLD you Iíd have my revenge, you BEE-YATCH! hehehehe

Supe and Vamps: sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiif! (maniacal laughter as the picture fades to black)


Back on Monkeyboy Island, a lone figure sits in front of the television--which is tuned to BB2. . . We can also see an iMacģ (brought to you by our fine friends at Appleģ), which is connected to the live feed of the BB hot tub as the silhouetted figure talks on the phone:

skierdude10: . . . I dunnoe abowt the PRizeS, duuuude, but I got the plase to myself an there ainít no sine oí that Dalton or noone! Yew gotta cum over heer and hang owt wile we kin! Iím gonna order pizza and innernet PORN! Itís gonna be way KEWL, man--I swear! Aní like bring yer CDs, maaaan--I feel a BUMP cumminí on!

Tune in next time for more farcical entertainment from the people at SeeBS! Same BlowsvivorSign, Same BlowsvivorStation!


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  Subject     Author     Message Date     ID  
 BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít Thin...   George Tirebiter     07-16-01       
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   aymelek     07-16-01     1  
     RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   MakeItStop     07-17-01     18  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   RudyRules     07-16-01     2  
   Poor Snoopy Sucks!   AyatollahKhomeini     07-16-01     3  
     RE: Poor Snoopy Sucks!   George Tirebiter     07-16-01     5  
     Mr. Edwards   Kismet     07-17-01     13  
         Ugh   AyatollahKhomeini     07-17-01     16  
             RE: Ugh   Kismet     07-17-01     21  
                 Prairie Time   AyatollahKhomeini     07-17-01     23  
                 RE: Ugh   ItzLisa     07-17-01     24  
   Part 2 (after the hijack)   AyatollahKhomeini     07-16-01     4  
     RE: Part 2 (after the hijack)   Outfrontgirl     07-16-01     7  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   Survivorerist     07-16-01     6  
     So little time   Outfrontgirl     07-16-01     9  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   LadyT     07-16-01     8  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   VampKira     07-17-01     10  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   Superman     07-17-01     11  
     RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   VampKira     07-17-01     12  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   Kismet     07-17-01     14  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   ItzLisa     07-17-01     15  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   MakeItStop     07-17-01     17  
     ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!   AyatollahKhomeini     07-18-01     38  
     RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   George Tirebiter     07-18-01     43  
         RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   MakeItStop     07-19-01     49  
   That does it! I Quit!!!   dabo     07-17-01     19  
     Poor Dabo!   Kismet     07-17-01     22  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   Riordan     07-17-01     20  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   SherpaDave     07-17-01     25  
   Blowsvivor Blows!   Survivorchick     07-17-01     26  
     RE: Blowsvivor Blows!   Drive My Car     07-17-01     27  
     RE: Blowsvivor Blows!   George Tirebiter     07-17-01     28  
         RE: Blowsvivor Blows!   AyatollahKhomeini     07-17-01     30  
             RE: Blowsvivor Blows!   Outfrontgirl     07-17-01     32  
                 RE: Blowsvivor Blows!   dabo     07-18-01     44  
             AYaK?   Drive My Car     07-18-01     40  
                 Episode 17   AyatollahKhomeini     07-18-01     41  
                     RE: Episode 17   Drive My Car     07-18-01     42  
         Woodstock and tabouli   Outfrontgirl     07-17-01     31  
             RE: Woodstock and tabouli   George Tirebiter     07-17-01     33  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   dangerkitty     07-17-01     29  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   GG     07-17-01     34  
     RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   George Tirebiter     07-17-01     35  
         RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   VampKira     07-18-01     36  
             RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   George Tirebiter     07-18-01     37  
                 RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 ē I Donít ...   ItzLisa     07-19-01     48  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   mistofleas     07-18-01     39  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   Outfrontgirl     07-18-01     45  
     Re: BV Website   George Tirebiter     07-18-01     46  
   RE: BLOWSVIVOR EPISODE 8 • I ...   dabo     07-18-01     47  

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