Guest Post!!!!

Hi,

My name is (allegedly) Mark Philippoussis, but you may know me more commonly as The Poo. No idea why people call me that, apparently there’s a double entendre in there somewhere but I don’t know what that means either.

I went to school at some famous College in Melbourne. It’s basically a private school for people who have more money than brains and where a lot of drugs are bought and sold (allegedly). Aces! Not that school mattered much to me, mind you. I always had one vision, one goal, one dream and that dream was to become the world’s greatest casanova.

Dad thought I should have a fall back career so he coached me right into the Australian Open Tennis Championships. I told dad it was a no-go but he wouldn’t have any of that crap. He wanted me to have a good career, one that would be stable and see me through to retirement. Professional tennis is not very demanding and therefore perfect for that so I reluctantly agreed. Soon I was winning tournaments but it was distracting me from my true goal of (allegedly) romancing young teenage girls so I picked up my game on that instead. At first this was okay because, I too was a young teenager – but now that I’m 31(ish) I find it hard to explain my (very alleged) love for the young ones. No one is buying “I just tripped and my (alleged) penis fell into her (alleged) vagina” anymore. Mostly because it’s alleged or sumthing.

When I won my first few big games at the open I bought myself a Lamborghini and a Hummer. People wondered why I would need a car like a Hummer in Melbourne, but these people obviously don’t know what a rugged terrain it is out there. It’s jungle and crocodiles everywhere! And I mean EVERYWHERE!

Anyway, dad was (allegedly) getting angry that I was spending all my money on cars and girls so I fired him as coach. Then I started losing games and my knee went to shit. But I’ll give you the hot tip – even though I was already a washed up tennis has-been (at 26ish) I was already primed for my true calling of casanova. Aces, I was loving myself sick!

I (allegedly) admit that I may have been a shithouse tennis player with a lucky serve but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s treating the ladies fine.

Ask any of my girlfriends and they’ll tell you what a catch I was (and still am). Don’t ask Delta Goodrem though. I know she had cancer and needed “support” from me at the time because I was her “boyfriend” and “one true love” but dude, PARIS HILTON wanted to have (alleged) skanky anonymous SEX with me. I’m talking PENIS and VAGINA. Would you pass that up? Girlfriend is fiiiiiiine (and totally classy). No idea how the media got a hold of that one.

Then I (allegedly) got involved with a…err …girl but kept it on the down low up until she turned 18 and then it was ON. Suddenly we were all set to get married and have a big fat Greek wedding except ..it didn’t happen. She wasn’t even Greek!

I was a bit sad about that. She was perfect for me. I mean, she was just out of high school..but she was still perfect for me. Come to think of it, I didn’t really know that much about her – but she was HOT, SMOKIN’ HOT! My friends are like, ‘Poo, you need to settle down with women who have substance and start looking for qualities in a girl that go beyond the superficial’ and I’m like “It’s not just about their cha-chas man, I totally care about what they wear too, I care about their hair, and hot sex. I’m the least superficial guy I know. I live in Las Vegas guys. I’m totally about keeping it real”. They just shake their heads and feel sorry for me for some reason.

The truth is, I really *don’t* get why I haven’t married and settled down yet. I’m TOTALLY open to falling into true love with a girl as long as she’s young and hot and an 11 out of 10. I may be a (allegedly) a bozo with a crap personality and a washed up career with nothing to offer a prospective wife and future mother of my children, but I deserve a hottie, dammit. I just don’t get why I don’t get everything I ask for. It’s soooo unfair!!!

Anyway, I was playing with my new little puppy a few months ago when I got a call from my manager. He said “guess what the Age of Love is?” and I’m like (totally made up) “Bazza, mate I have no idea..what? Is it.. like 15 and a half?” and he’s like “not over the phone Mark… And no, it’s the new television show you’re going to be staring in! We’re going to find you a wife!”.

I was sooooo excited I squealed.

After we taped the first episode of the show the producers explained how the show is going to have me picking through two important demographics of women. Young hotties and old hags. I’m thinking “this is going to be sooo easy”. They were like “the first group consists of women who are over the age of 40 and the second group are in their 20s” “Sounds good” I said…“That’s the old ones taken care of but what about the young hotties?” They explained that the 20 year olds ARE the young hotties! Whoa…what? WHOA.

This sounds like it’s going to take a bit of getting used to. Wish me luck!