So tonight I had too much time on my hands. That’s dangerous for me. It gets me thinking and turns me ambitious. And tonight that ambition came in the form of being a reality tv show cast member. In summer of 2005, I became hooked on “Big Brother.” If you’re not familiar with the show, get out there and live life. What do you do every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday evening in the summers that could possibly be more important? I can’t think of anything.
I don’t think I’d win the show, but I’d like to participate any way. The show is based on manipulating people by creating alliances and stabbing people in the back. I’m too bad at keeping secrets to actually win the $500K the last player remaining receives. But I think I could at least compete. Maybe get sixth or seventh place, which I think is pretty respectable. A couple things have held me back from applying up to this point:
1. Bikinis: I’m not sure if they’re required, but every girl I’ve seen on the show is always parading around in one. That would not bode well for me and my stretch marks.
2. Hyperhydrosis: I have sweaty hands, and their competitions regularly involve activities that would only work with dry hands: like hanging from ropes for six hours. But now I have weight gloves that I could pack a long with me. Major crisis averted.
3. Book ban: apparently the only book they’re allowed to take along is the Bible. I wouldn’t bring the Ultimate Handbook for Winning Big Brother by Season 11’s own Jordan, I would just want an empty notebook I could scrawl my strategies away in, which, once discovered, would ultimately result in my eviction.
4. Limited menu: if you lose a food challenge, you spend the week allowed to eat nothing but some oatmeal mush concoction they call “slop.” I guess this wouldn’t be all bad as perhaps that would force me to lose my
couple 25 remaining LBs. But then again, I would get evicted as soon as I was put on slop because my housemates wouldn’t be able to stomach me any longer. I have lost friends before in those torturous hours between meals because I’m so irritable.
5. Money: If I don’t win, is it all a waste? Or do contestants get paid regardless? Because I know Steve would never go for me taking a summer off work and not getting paid. That would make me not only poor, but also divorced.
But tonight, despite these five very good reasons to stay at home and laugh at other freaks who end up on the show, I thought, what the hell: I’m young(ish): I better apply now or else I’ll be the token old crazy person that everyone makes fun of. So I went to CBS.com. The deadline was last Friday. Eff. Let’s chalk it up to another summer wasting away watching
normal people freaks (with no lives other than waiting for open casting to be announced online) parading around in that primetime television house. Damn elitists. I bet they don’t even have to pack weight gloves.