So this past Saturday, Jenny and I drove down to the Dave & Buster’s in Plymouth Meeting (yet another nonsensical Pennsyltucky town name) where they were having a casting call for I Survived a Japanese Game Show. Random, I know. But I figured with Jenny’s sass and my desire to be humiliated on national television, we were shoe-ins. Then I read the waiver, which stated that everyone who was chosen for the show was required to stay in Tokyo for five weeks with zero contact from anyone in the States. As much as I love sushi and isolation, I thought that was a bit much. I decided to go through with the interview anyway, just to see what would happen (and also because I drove like and hour and a half to get there). While we were waiting, we made friends with some guy who said he owned the hottest bar in Reading, PA. I think it was called the California Grill. So big-ups to Steve or Joe or whatever your name was if you’re reading this.
Anyway, after filling out questionaire detailing my dreams, aspirations, and athletic abilities (mine were kickball and awesomeness), I was finally called into Party Room One. A short, energetic dude named Billy who worked for the casting agency introduced himself. He asked me a bunch of questions, and I proceeded to act insane and bubbly because that’s what all the Rock of Love girls do.
What you I do with $1000?
Buy a minitature pony.
Tell me something about you that I wouldn’t know from looking at you.
I have giant shark tattoo on my leg.
What do you do for fun?
Drink heavily.
And so on. He asked if I ever tried out for a reality show before, and I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted or not. Later that night at 9pm, I received a voicemail from Billy saying congratulations, I’d made it to the second round, and could I please fill out the long questionaire he’d send shortly via e-mail? I replied saying that, after much consideration, I decided that I Survived a Japanese Game Show was not for me. He e-mailed me back saying I had a great chance, and to let him know if I changed my mind.
So if this whole writing thing doesn’t work out, I know I have a future in reality TV.
I’ll keep this short:
You are retarded for not doing this.
Dude, five weeks with Mr. California Grill and friends would kill me. I think I’d rather do Unbeatable Banzuke.
I agree with commentor #1