So yesterday I accidentally auditioned for a reality tv dating show in Miami
And today I went and climbed a glacier, which is why I didn't get a chance to type up this post earlier.
So it went down like this: writing club (names redacted, but B., T., S., and J.,) and I came across a flier looking for a group of 5-6 single Alaskan women ages 21-33 who'd been friends for a while, preferably people who haven't traveled much, who wouldn't mind an all-expenses paid trip to Miami to be in a reality tv show.
Except for the no traveling part, this describes writing club perfectly! So we nabbed the flier, B. emailed them, and we didn't really think anything of it.
Sunday afternoon I got a call from B. saying the woman in charge contacted her and wanted us to come in THAT DAY to film a short group segment and then shorter solo segments to send to the New York Execs who pick from the samples she sends. I was already in town, so no big deal!
So we got there and this woman with big glasses and huge hair (think Professor Trelawney but slightly heftier build) answers the door (to a building, I might add, that has no sign on it, in a vaguely sketchy neighborhood)--and she's very nice but she out-monologued T., which until that point I had never before seen accomplished. She gets us started on paperwork.
Which. Asks us about our "perfect man." And says the name of the show is "Love in Miami."
I mean, a) worst name for a show ever. EVER. But 2) apparently we should have surmised the inherent 'dating show' part from the way they specified 'single.' The full flier, when we saw it, kind of racistly specified that they'd really like native alaskan girls! woo! Actually the full flier was clearly looking for mythical beings. A racially diverse group of prime-aged single women who haven't traveled but are super hot and bodacious (not that they said that last part but come on, it's implied. Hollywood execs don't put nonpeople on dating shows).
Even though it was a hilarious long shot before, it is now quite clear to us that we! are never ever ever ever! going to go to Miami! BUT WE'RE ALREADY HERE, WE HAVE TO PRETEND THAT WE KNEW ABOUT THE DATING SHOW PART, AND FUCK IT, YOU KNOW, JUST ROLL WITH IT! \O/
The woman, K., starts telling us how we need to manifest what we want out of life, including our ideal lovematch--she did it, so it can be done! Although her perfect man got paralyzed from the waist down and then died six months later from melanoma so maaaybeee she messed up a little in the manifestation part? And then she started oversharing about the skeezy men who'd hit on her in her life. In way too much detail. All while we're trying to come up with descriptors for our perfect guy--speaking for myself, it was really difficult not to start listing fictional tv boyfriends. And I did wind up putting "internet" as a hobby.
The other thing is that--S. is 99% lesbian with a chance of Ewan McGregor, which we giggled helplessly about when K wasn't looking. Especially when S. got asked the ideal man question on camera. She managed to answer quite gracefully with a few bonus gender-neutral pronouns. (When T. got asked the question she answered, "Ideally, an appreciation of concrete.")
When we all got asked the question of what we thought Miami would be like, we answered, "Hot. Palm trees. Lots of murders. Isn't Dexter set there?"
Guys, I don't even know. It was really fun just doing this much, it was an adventure and a half. And we're neeeeeeever getting picked, and I'm totally okay with that.
Though it would be a hellaciously entertaining social experiment if they did lose their minds and pick us. But if that happens NONE OF YOU ARE ALLOWED TO WATCH. tombolguid is already threatening to make gifs if they pick us, NONE OF YOU ARE ALLOWED TO DO THAT EITHER.
But we really really REALLY won't get picked, so it's all good! :DD
So it went down like this: writing club (names redacted, but B., T., S., and J.,) and I came across a flier looking for a group of 5-6 single Alaskan women ages 21-33 who'd been friends for a while, preferably people who haven't traveled much, who wouldn't mind an all-expenses paid trip to Miami to be in a reality tv show.
Except for the no traveling part, this describes writing club perfectly! So we nabbed the flier, B. emailed them, and we didn't really think anything of it.
Sunday afternoon I got a call from B. saying the woman in charge contacted her and wanted us to come in THAT DAY to film a short group segment and then shorter solo segments to send to the New York Execs who pick from the samples she sends. I was already in town, so no big deal!
So we got there and this woman with big glasses and huge hair (think Professor Trelawney but slightly heftier build) answers the door (to a building, I might add, that has no sign on it, in a vaguely sketchy neighborhood)--and she's very nice but she out-monologued T., which until that point I had never before seen accomplished. She gets us started on paperwork.
Which. Asks us about our "perfect man." And says the name of the show is "Love in Miami."
I mean, a) worst name for a show ever. EVER. But 2) apparently we should have surmised the inherent 'dating show' part from the way they specified 'single.' The full flier, when we saw it, kind of racistly specified that they'd really like native alaskan girls! woo! Actually the full flier was clearly looking for mythical beings. A racially diverse group of prime-aged single women who haven't traveled but are super hot and bodacious (not that they said that last part but come on, it's implied. Hollywood execs don't put nonpeople on dating shows).
Even though it was a hilarious long shot before, it is now quite clear to us that we! are never ever ever ever! going to go to Miami! BUT WE'RE ALREADY HERE, WE HAVE TO PRETEND THAT WE KNEW ABOUT THE DATING SHOW PART, AND FUCK IT, YOU KNOW, JUST ROLL WITH IT! \O/
The woman, K., starts telling us how we need to manifest what we want out of life, including our ideal lovematch--she did it, so it can be done! Although her perfect man got paralyzed from the waist down and then died six months later from melanoma so maaaybeee she messed up a little in the manifestation part? And then she started oversharing about the skeezy men who'd hit on her in her life. In way too much detail. All while we're trying to come up with descriptors for our perfect guy--speaking for myself, it was really difficult not to start listing fictional tv boyfriends. And I did wind up putting "internet" as a hobby.
The other thing is that--S. is 99% lesbian with a chance of Ewan McGregor, which we giggled helplessly about when K wasn't looking. Especially when S. got asked the ideal man question on camera. She managed to answer quite gracefully with a few bonus gender-neutral pronouns. (When T. got asked the question she answered, "Ideally, an appreciation of concrete.")
When we all got asked the question of what we thought Miami would be like, we answered, "Hot. Palm trees. Lots of murders. Isn't Dexter set there?"
Guys, I don't even know. It was really fun just doing this much, it was an adventure and a half. And we're neeeeeeever getting picked, and I'm totally okay with that.
Though it would be a hellaciously entertaining social experiment if they did lose their minds and pick us. But if that happens NONE OF YOU ARE ALLOWED TO WATCH. tombolguid is already threatening to make gifs if they pick us, NONE OF YOU ARE ALLOWED TO DO THAT EITHER.
But we really really REALLY won't get picked, so it's all good! :DD