Would you ever be a cast member or contestant in a reality television show?
Uhhhh - yeah - aren't I already...it's called 'Running with the Blues'?!?! Seriously, though, I will qualify this by saying that I can't go on shows where I would potentially have to eat weird food. If there's a possibility I'm going to be 'challenged' to munch on some pig rectum or centipede-like creatures, you can pretty much count me out.
Big R says that we couldn't go on the Amazing Race together because of my food issues. This is a contentious point in our relationship for me because he's making some sweeping generalizations that I wouldn't be a good game show partner based solely on the fact that bugs and offals aren't in my personal food repertoire. Just because Big R doesn't eat vegetables doesn't mean that I pass judgment on him. If he feels compelled to live a constipated lifestyle, who am I to judge. Go for it, cowboy! At least I'll know the reason he has a pinched look on his face. Oh and I guess now you do too.
I think I would have liked to have gone on MTVs Real World when I was - ahem - within the appropriate age range. Though it's not really a game show, it is a reality show. And, if you're a bonified nut ball, prone to public drinking and violent psychopathic reactions to less than major disagreements over whose ass looks better in a bikini, you get asked to participate in their 'Challenges'. These little soirees of TV land servitude do have a cash payout given you can survive the weekly challenges pitting two contestants against one another for ultimate domination. Or so I've heard. I mean it's not like I watch them or anything.
Big Brother is always a hit with me. Big R says that I probably wouldn't survive on that show either because (get ready Big R, you'll like this public acknowledgment) then people would see how mean I really am. Puh-leeze!
American Idol is a hit or miss with me, but a worthy option nonetheless. If I could carry a tune, I would definitely do it.
Project Runway I would do in a hot minute. I want to be -licious, fierce and wear leathah whenevah and wherevah possible all in the name of F-A-S-H-I-O-N. I am dying to meet Tim Gunn and Michael Kors. I want Kors to tell me that my interpretive fashion expression of a grave diggers spring time uniform is chic, fashionable and wearable.
Intervention. Now that's a show I'd like to be on. Like if i had a raging rhoid problem or maybe if I was a stumbling drunk. I want to be like that "contestant" who comes from an affluent family, lives under an overpass on the southbound side of the 405, calls a souped up Vespa that is equipped to hold 5 surfboards and has 16 welded handles for holding bags of cans and recyclables their primary mode of transportation, hasn't showered in something like 6 months, but oddly looks like a Calvin Klein model. When I'm in the middle of my intervention, I want to fake like I have to go pee only to be caught clamoring for the other side of a 12 foot highway barrier in my parents backyard. I would try to always wear cute underwear and matching hair barrettes in case my family became so desperate they needed to publicly announce my rhoid problem and that they were no longer going to support me if I didn't get help. I would want to be the contestant who looked back in that post-episode epilogue and say, 'Damn I stunk like the dark side of a cat's ass, but I sure as hell looked cute!'
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