Kristen calls me and asks if I’d
like to try out for a TV game show. No idea what the game is or what’s
expected, but my daughter and I figure there is no bad publicity. Why not go on
television if we can? Then, of course, there’s the possibility of a $10,000
prize…
We wear a sign saying "Team Daught.mom". It's Kristen's idea and it's brilliant. Vince adds the "dot" because it reminds him of a url. The assistants love the sign. No one else has one.
We arrive a tad late and I am
pressured to fill out the form. They ask what I fear and I say spiders, hoping
it’s not a “face your worse fear” game. The form also wants me to list what
“party tricks” I can do, what my strengths are, and my weaknesses. I can only
think of writing and singing for the party tricks, do okay with the strengths,
and fall apart on the weaknesses. I don’t want to tell the truth – like “I suck
at trivia” – just in case it’s a jeopardy game. So I say my weaknesses are red wine
and Brad Pitt.
This starts the conversation about
the time I ran after Brad at The Toronto International Film Festival. The girls
beside us want to know, but we’re called to attention.
They hand out a one-pager of
multiple-choice questions, trivia they call it. Reads more like general
knowledge to me. I guess at most of the answers, only really know one or two
for certain. I hope this won’t be a make-or-break toward that ten thousand
dollar prize.
Next we’re called into the audition
room. They tell us we’re going to participate in a couple of fun games. We line
up across from our partners in two lines, then face the front. The young
good-looking assistant gives each team a tennis ball. The instructions are to
pass it to one another without the use of our hands. He reminds us that this is
where they want to see us shine. “Show us your big personalities,” he says. So
we do.
The ball starts off being passed
chin to chin. Lucky for me I am beside a tall good-looking young guy, whose
beard tickles my neck. I take a little longer than necessary to pass the ball.
We laugh and encourage each other with shouts and high-fives. The next game is
called suck and blow. I kid you not.
This elicits a lot of guffaws. But
we listen politely to the instructions on how do it. You suck on the paper to
hold it in your mouth, then blow out to attach it to the next mouth. What if
you’d admitted your worst fear was germs?
The last thing we have to do is
walk a carpet as though it’s a catwalk. We call out and clap for the others as
they dance, wiggle, or even cartwheel down the room. When it’s Kristen’s turn,
she gives them the D-Cup shimmy and I figure it’s pretty much sewn up for us.
So I seal the deal with a song and dance and a show of ass as I sing, “I like
big butts”. They seem to like them, too.
We’re sent to the waiting room to
see who will be picked. Kristen and I are among the six selected to go to the
next stage: an interview with the…I dunno, directors, producers, writers?
Anyhow, they ask us questions about our backgrounds and what we do for a
living. I’m a bit nervous but manage to tell them some coherent things. Then
sadly, we are asked to demonstrate our “party tricks”. Kristen does really well
– she sells one of the interview team his own pen. I could write something, I
say, I mean I’m a writer, but I guess that’s no good for television…after that,
I have no choice but to sing.
“Blue moon, you saw me standing
alone…”
Don’t call us, we’ll call you, they
say as we leave.
No comments:
Post a Comment