The Junk Drawer

Dearest sister Ann,

I know we share the same dentist, but I didn’t know you had an appointment with him yesterday. I also didn’t know you told him we auditioned for The Amazing Race.

Yeah, well, I had an appointment for a cleaning with him today.

Here’s how our conversation went, if you can call it that:

Dr. M.: So, I hear you hung out with your sister this weekend.

Me: (mouth pried open, jaw aching, sucky thing hanging out of my mouth) Uh?

Dr. M.: You’re trying out for The Amazing Race!

Me: Aaggh, yah.

Dr. M.: I think it’s great you’re doing this! Most people just say they’re going to try something wild like that.

Me: Mm-hmm.

Dr. M.: So how’s that work?

Me: Wewwl, oo fiwl ow aa abblicashun and mayg a vieeodabe.

Dr. M.: No, I mean, how do you run the race?

Me: Oh, wewwl, oo run fum sheckpoin do sheckpoin doing crachzie dasks ‘n puzzlesh tying do bead all da uddu teamsh bag do da sheckpoin.

Dr. M.: That’s nuts!

Me: Wewwl, we yike do shink we can do ut.

Dr. M.: That sounds like a friend of mine who’s training for a triathalon. You have to be kind of crazy for that, but I really admire her.

Me: Aag, shash grade!

Dr. M.: Do you think you have a chance to get on?

Me: Bobbabby nod.

Dr. M.: Well, I still think it’s awesome you’re trying.

Me: Shanks.

Dr. M.: You have a cavity. Spit. Rinse.

Thanks a lot, Ann, for giving Dr. M. something to talk to me about while I’m at my most incoherent. It was so much fun for me.

Sincerely,

Your mumbling, drooling, cavity-head sister.

I wrote on Monday that my sister Ann and I planned to audition for a spot on the reality show The Amazing Race.

With visions of stardom dancing in our heads, we drove to Lancaster, PA early Saturday to take our spot in line for the craziest thing we’ve done in our lives.

Finding the Place

Getting there was a breeze, thanks to Ann’s Garmin GPS, which gave us spot-on directions to the park where the audition was held. Problem was, there were no signs pointing us to the audition spot. We drove aimlessly for ten minutes, imagining if we were picked for the race, we’d be doing a lot of the same: driving around and around not finding anything.

Eventually, we spotted pairs of people walking toward a bandshell near the park’s entrance. We crash-landed the car, stuck our Amazing Race Pass in the window, and headed over to where a half dozen people had collected themselves.

You Slept Where?

Upon arrival, we chatted up other teams and marveled at how far some people traveled to get there. One team came from Rochester, NY and slept in their car in the park (!!!). Another sister team came in from their respective homes: one from California, the other from New York City. A brother/sister pair flew in from Florida and Georgia, respectively.

We thought our 1.5 hour trip was the shortest, until we met another team who rolled out of bed an hour before and drove five minutes to the park. The locals weren’t allowed to complain about anything.

Biding Our Time

The two-hour wait went fast because everybody in line was fun, friendly and excited to be there. What puzzled us was that only about 80 people showed up by start time. Ann and I expected 500 or more.

At one point, a dog belonging to one team ran up to me and started barking its blessed head off. I remembered what you guys advised me to do when this happens, and held out my arm and yelled “Stop!” Twice. Didn’t work. The dog kept barking until its owner came to retrieve it. Home, Lancaster, anywhere. Dogs apparently hate me.

An hour into the wait, a woman running the event instructed everyone who parked in the regular lot to move their cars to an area designated for a barbecue being held far away in another section of the park.

Everyone who had to move a car, including Ann, groaned as they grabbed their car keys. But as they returned from moving their cars, those of us still in line cheered them on back to imaginary checkpoint mats, just like we’d do on the race.

Ann came in third out of a dozen people. Way to go, Ann! Maybe we wouldn’t get eliminated after the first leg!

Assessing the Others

While waiting, you can’t help but size up the other teams to see where you stand against them. The brother/sister team, who I could see getting picked for the show, were in excellent shape, gregarious, and attractive. The camera would love them. Another sister team sounded like they’ve been everywhere and seen everything. One is a Rockette, and the other is a roadie for big musical acts. She flies to Norway next week to set up for a Rod Stewart concert. What am I doing next week? Maybe getting an eyebrow wax and haircut. My life runneth over with excitement.

Another team, each wearing matching pink tops and matching pants, were instantly assessed as the “Didn’t Read the Instructions Team” by all of us in line. More than one of us read a tip sheet on preparing for a reality show audition. Wearing matching outfits is tops on the “Don’t Do” list.

One team, dubbed “The Biker Chicks,” was a walking advertisement for Harley-Davidson. Others were seniors. Some were frat boys. And, of course, there was one plastic model-y team. But most were normal, everyday people just like us.

Let’s Go to the Video Tape!

When filming time arrived, we were ushered to a small tent where the camera and lights were set up. The “director” told everyone in line to be as animated as possible, tell why you want to be on the race and why you’d make a great team. You had two minutes to plead your case.

We had a plan, but when the camera’s on you, a whole lot of stuff flies right out of your head and you just hope for the best.

Since we were 4th place in line, we could watch only three other teams go before the camera. On one hand, we wanted to watch more people go ahead of us to see how they handled it. On the other, we were glad to get it behind us quickly.

We noticed the first teams were not very animated and stared straight at the camera. We thought “We can do this, and do it better than them!”

Suddenly, it was our turn. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!  We walked under the tent and were handed microphones and told “Hold these close enough to your mouth, but don’t swallow them, OK?” This made us laugh and loosened us up a bit.

I couldn’t remember everything we said if you held a gun to my head, but we basically told them how we were the “real people” the show was looking for, how we’re not twins, but we’re very twin-like. We practically read each other’s mind and “often (Me:) finish each (Ann:) other’s sentences.” And then we busted a gut laughing.

Ann said we’ve traveled together, gotten very lost, but always find our way to our destination. I said we were in this to entertain the home viewers, who could identify with us. I suppose we rambled on for another twenty seconds, laughing the whole time, and then handed back the microphones.

Even though we didn’t say everything we planned to, we were sure we were animated enough. We often talked to each other, instead of staring dead into the camera. That we engaged each other is perhaps one thing that set us apart from the few who came before us, and maybe a bunch after.

Stellar performance? Hardly. Fun to say we did it? You bet!

That’s Gotta Hurt

One sad note about the brother/sister team. We found out while waiting in line that they’d already made their audition tape at home. We weren’t sure why they showed up at all, since they could have just sent their applications and tape to CBS through the mail. We suspect they thought appearing at an open audition gave them an edge. It didn’t. Instead, I’m sure it gave them a massive headache.

I barely made out what the check-in people told them, but it was either they shouldn’t bother making a new tape, or they couldn’t make a tape if they planned to send in their other one. This meant that they each hopped a plane to the middle of Pennsylvania for no reason whatsoever. Ouch. We pitied them as they walked away, heads hanging low.

Someone Bring Champagne

So what happens now? We wait for the phone call to go to the next round in New York City. Don’t worry. We’re not delusional. Pretty sure it’s not going to happen. But if it does, watch out. It’ll be total pandemonium in The Junk Drawer!

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Last one over to Humor-Blogs gets eliminated!

As many of you know, I’ve been trying to lose weight for months and months. Strike that. I’ve been thinking about losing weight for months and months.

The problem is I have very little will power and therefore, the scale laughs at me each and every morning. Oh, Kathy, Kathy, Kathy, we’re not going to do this again, are we?

Tomorrow might be different, because today I had a guardian angel keeping me from eating all afternoon and he didn’t even know it. I estimate he saved me about 1,000 needless calories.

Part of my job as a computing consultant is to install and update software on a PC that gets mirrored to 36 other computers in one of our labs in the building. The gentleman who saved me today asked me to install some software for him, which I did last week. Before I sent it out to all the other PCs, I needed him to come to my office and thoroughly test it.

He arrived at 2:00 and tested for three straight hours. In an office the size of a walk-in closet.

How did that help me? His presence just a few short feet away kept me from diving into the following things, which I was too self-conscious to eat in front of him:

One Peanut Butter Balance Bar: 200 calories

One snack bag of White Cheddar Cheez-its: About 250 calories

Ten Caramel Hershey Kisses: 230 calories

Half a dozen Goetze’s Caramel Cremes: 260 calories

My office is more a candy store than a place to conduct business. There is a candy dish that sits at the front desk next to a trim and fit woman who makes sure it is always full. God bless her. She allows herself one Hershey’s Kiss per day, if she’s been careful with her eating the rest of the day. I’d kill for her discipline.

The bowl is very small, however, so rather than emptying it out in one visit, I go straight to the source and take directly from the drawer where the big bags of it live. It’s the other junk drawer in my life. I do replenish what I take, but I don’t know why I bother putting new bags in there, because I’ll be taking it right out an hour later.

Somebody please help me! Would anyone consider being my food guardian angel? You’ll never see a better deal in your life because I’d pay you to do absolutely nothing.

You’d come to my office, pull up a chair and sit and stare at me so I don’t eat. I would occasionally talk to you, but we don’t have to speak if you don’t want. You can bring reading material if you like, or I’ll give you a laptop and you can watch a movie or surf the web. Popcorn and candy obviously prohibited.

It’s either this, or the junk drawer has to go. Do any of you have struggles with an abundance of goodies in your office? Have you ever suggested a moratorium on junk food and been successful?

So my sister Ann got this insane idea that we should try out to be contestants on The Amazing Race, a reality show that pits teams of two against each other in a race around the world. Prize if you win? One million smackaroos.

Teams compete by performing weird and difficult tasks while making their way to pit stops along the worldwide route. Contestants have to fly, drive or take a train or bus on their own throughout the race. If you’re the last team to arrive at a pit stop, you get the ax.

You must be able to manage your time, follow clue directions, do crazy physical and mental stunts, and find places you’ve never been before.

We can do none of these things.

And that’s our “hook” for getting picked at an open audition being held this weekend in Lancaster, Pa. Our shtick will be “We suck! We’ll be eliminated at the first pit stop, but our pathetic attempt to get there will entertain your viewers. You want us. You need us!”

As proof of our horrendous planning and traveling skills, Ann and I spent a good amount of time trying to decide if we should drive two hours to the audition the night before and stay at a hotel, or just leave really early Saturday morning and pray we get a good spot in line.

Keep in mind, teams on the show are given what seems like nine seconds to make their travel plans. Our planning took us four days and we changed our minds three times during the process. Hotel the night before, drive that morning, hotel the night before, drive that morning.

Do you think it has anything to do with our travel preferences?

1. I wanted in-room Internet access so I could keep up with email and my blog.

2. She wanted an onsite restaurant so we could be sure to get food in the morning. A continental breakfast won’t cut it.

3. I didn’t want to drag all my toiletries with me overnight. Instead I just wanted to shower up Saturday morning, hop in the car and go.

4. She is not a morning person. She’d prefer beaming herself to the destination.

5. I have a hard time falling asleep in strange places.

6. She didn’t want to get lost getting from the hotel to the audition location.

For the uninitiated, these are basically the opposite of all the requirements for the race. Oh, and did I mention we’re both directionally-challenged? Even with her GPS, we’re not sure we’ll get there. We know we wouldn’t stand a chance actually running the race. Getting to the audition will be challenging enough.

I’ll be blogging about our mini-adventure upon our return. That is, unless they pick us for the race and tell me I’m forbidden to write about it.

You never know. If you’ve been to The Junk Drawer before, you know crazier things have happened to me.

It could happen. Right? Right?