Do you think MTV believes in euthanasia? Granddaddy never wanted to live this way... He's in ever so much pain. Liver looks like a pound of petrified hamburger patty. Back thrown out from that last drunken three-way.
Oh, and by "granddaddy," I mean "The Real World."
Please, MTV. Please. Put "The Real World" out of its misery. You have no idea how hard this is for me. I once wanted to be on "The Real World."
:: flashback ::
Two years ago, I convinced myself and everyone around me that I was destined for "The Real World." My dad was a holdout of course. He kept saying, "Son, you don't even have a job. You're not ready for the real world." Then he'd sort of make one of those gruff Tim Allen caveman noises and take a swig of bear. Beat his chest. Sometimes quote from "The Grapes of Wrath."
I would laugh: HA!
"No, no, father. I'm not ready to support myself. You know my rule of thumb regarding the discussion of utilities, buying apartments and terrier dogs is 'only over a game of Monopoly.' I'm talking about reality television here. Now drive me to Washington, D.C. for auditions."
My dad instead hit me with his truck. Actually, not really. I was hit by a car while running on Barracks Road one week prior. Point is, I was on crutches. This being important because I thought it was my "in" at auditions. I'd be that guy. That crazy handicapped guy. It might sound gimmicky, but let's face it -- I needed one. My pectorals weren't the size of bongos.
My mom ended up driving me, which I thought would work towards my benefit. Not because having your mom come with you to "Real World" auditions is cool or anything. I mean, it is, but I already had my gimmick, and I didn't want to go overboard. Mom and crutches? Might just backfire on me. No, I thought my mom would take care of me is all. Fetch me water and unsalted peanuts. Perhaps grab a stool for my battered ankle.
Too bad my mom abandoned me with two gnarly-looking lesbians at a bar table so she could go shopping in Georgetown. Not that the lesbians weren't nice. They were, and I was happy to be with them at their table. Especially after my mom made them promise that they'd look after me.
Only problem was: they both thought they'd get on the show. Like both of them, together. I, of course, told them that they would. "If anyone has a shot at getting on the 'Real World,' it's you two." Little did they know, I could be a liar.
In my mind I thought, "No way, no how were these two chicks getting on over me. Sure they had tattoos and like five estranged fathers between them, but I had crutches."
Then, suddenly, we were kicked out on the street by a bouncer named Tad. I told the lesbians that Tad was a tad rough around the edges. We all agreed I was really funny and stood in line for two hours -- coming up with more Tad puns.
Tadpole.
When it finally came time for our interview with the "Real World" casting troupe, I was so ready to rock. But not roll. Rolling my ankle was what got me on crutches in the first place! Tadpole.
Me, my lesbians and seven other wannabes all crowded around this cozy little coffee table with our "discussion leader" who'd say single words that we, the group, would have to run with. For example: anthrax.
Yes, my discussion leader gave my group anthrax. Not literally. He didn't blow it in our faces or anything. He just wanted us to talk about it. I could honestly talk for hours about anthrax. In fact, sometimes I do.
Unfortunately, everyone in my group was very chatty, and somehow one of my lesbian friends managed to come out. While talking about anthrax. The discussion leader seemed impressed, and I knew I had to act fast. So, I said, "Yeah, anthrax is deadly, but cars can be even deadlier. Check out m'ankle, maaan." And I plopped my swollen ankle up on that coffee table, declaring it the victim of a hit and run.
Touche.
That's how I got my callback for the "Real World." I didn't make the show or anything. A casting director told me I was too edgy. "2 hot 4 TV" is what he said -- which I can understand when watching this season of the show. Just look at the cast:
Brad? The boy shouldn't be allowed to operate a stapler.
Frankie? She'd make out with a Ronald McDonald mannequin then call her boyfriend while weeping and say, "I don't remember what I just did, but I think I cheated on you."
Robin? Is she ever sober and not shrieking? I mean, really.
Whatsherface and Whodat? I see them occasionally, but I'm not sure if they actually live in the house with the others, or just wander through sporadically.
In short, the "Real World" bores me. MTV needs to spice up the formula. Maybe more alcohol and more sex. Because I don't think there's enough of that. If that doesn't work, they could always try adding even more alcohol and even more sex. And crutches. Have everyone on crutches. With alcohol and sex. It'll be like a new lease on life for Granddaddy.
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