Thursday, May 15, 2008

• My Reality Television Partner

  MY REALITY TELEVISION PARTNER

  Challenge 2008-09

  Imagine you have been selected for a reality television show i.e. Big Brother, Survivor, et all.  You have to choose someone to share this experience with,  your own partner.  Who would you choose?  Why?

  One must be fully aware at the onset that I am not and probably will not ever be a reality TV person. So this will be perhaps not as accurate as some would prefer. All I can base my perception on is little glimpses of previews, rumors, innuendos and of course reliable second hand, next day, half awake, semi-recollected renditions from passers by and strangers.

  Wait, I lie. I do watch “Whose wedding is it, anyways?” and “Clean house”. But they don’t count as I’ve been married 36 years and I don’t envision myself ever trying that again. As for Clean House, I can’t understand the whole concept of living up to your neck in the middle of a rummage sale and then letting someone else sort out all your garbage. It’s all no, no, no until they see what somebody else’s money, talent, and hard work has done for them. Then it’s bring it on and be sure to come back in two years so you can do it all again. Life Leaches.

  I’ve seen bits of Bad Girls. Now there’s a bunch of numb minded wenches. All that yelling, screaming, waving their arms and running their mouths while completely unaware of the disconnection between the brain and the tongue can’t possibly be considered talent. Being able to spout the longest string of off color words combined to portray an imaginative yet nearly impossible scenario at the top of one’s voice does not make up for an all expenses paid trip to the hoosegow.  In my neighborhood you kept quiet. Let them wonder where the sugar in the gas tank came from. Needless to say, my perception of reality shows is somewhat jaded. Back stabbing, even with a smile, is no longer my modus operandi. Don’t even mention the dancing, singing, traveling stuff. That takes talent of which I have less than nil.

  I simply do not play well with others when left to my own inclination. I’ve spent a lifetime learning to get along with people. I don’t think I can conscionably render all that work worthless. I’ve remolded myself into a kinder gentler termagant. Otherwise, I would not only be the first voted off; they would probably be taking me out feet first in a pine box right behind the other three people that I had single handedly critically wounded. No, just can’t picture myself up there on the big screen cutting throats and stabbing backs. It wouldn't be pretty.

  My acquired style is much more Ninja; quiet, stealthy, monosyllabic and extremely good at making anything a weapon. So my partner would have to good at ducking. Yes, ducking and mind reading and coffee making. I won’t participate unless there is coffee and lots of it. I think that, Natalie, who plays Monk’s assistant, would do very well. Compliant, knows how to make the boss happy but not so easy as to keep the game interesting.  The fact that competiton is bound to release my internal overbearing know-it-all attitude would only stir the reformist in her. So,as soon as they have “OCD Ninja’s hyped on Caffeine” as a reality choice, you can count me in. Ok, Natalie, wipes, nunchakus, china coffee cup with Chuck Norris on it. Ready. Let’s go. Unfortunately, I doubt this format would prove very entertaining as Ninja’s do most of their work at night or hidden or invisible, whichever the situation demands. Natalie could handle it though. Everything would be in order, straightened and categorized. Whatever the challenge, Natalie, would prepare the needed materials and produce them on cue.

  “Ninja One, did you scale the wall and retrieve a Golden Apple?” “Yes, here it is.” “Ninja Kathy, did you scale the wall and retrieve a Golden Apple?” “Yes.” “Where is it?”  “Natalie has it and has sanitized and polished it to perfection.”

  Well, that’s it for tonight. Tune in next week when the OCD Ninja’s must find a black cloth flag at midnight, guarded by bats, during the New Moon.

  (Natalie don’t forget the net)

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