Day 273: New Location, Same Terrible People

I woke up at Kyle's on Day 273 to a call from FF.

"I'm going to Tom's lake house up on Lake Lanier. Come with me," he said.

"Absolutely not," were the first words that came to mind.

The first words that came out of my mouth, though, were, "That sounds fun . . .but I don't think so . . .I just woke up."

"Come on! The lake will make you feel better. You can sleep on the way," he said.

I could not argue with that point. Plus, I had no other plans that day than to lie on my couch and nap intermmitently (a favorite Sunday activity of mine), and I had a bathing suit and cover up in my car (a fact that both pleased and fascinated FF. I mean, really, who travels with swim wear all the time? Answer: those of us who still wish they lived at the beach.)

I had no more excuses left. I did not want to go, but in the spirit of this year, here's to saying, "yes" when I feel like saying, "no."

When we got to Tom's parents' lake house, I instantly remembered that I had been there before, years ago, when Tom and I were in college together. Visiting Lake Lanier was not going to suffice as the thing I've never done before.

"Do you want to set up T's (he and Taylor's son) Pack N Play?," Tom asked me.

"Tom, don't ask her to do that," Taylor exlaimed, before I could answer.

I'm pretty sure she said that because she didn't want me, the guest, to do any work, though it occurred to me later that maybe she was concerned that I'm a complete idiot and might do something during the set up that could unintentionally hurt her son.

"I don't mind. I'll do it," I said.

And so Tom walked me through, step by step on how to set up a Pack N Play. I didn't find it to be particularly hard, though now that it's months later, I couldn't tell you any of the steps. I follow directions well, though, all of you moms, so if you need me to baby-sit, I'm sure I could figure it out. I'm not as irresponsible as I look, or as some of my actions may reflect.

The next thing I did that I'd never done before, on the other hand, will stay with me for a long time, and it happened on a boat ride that Tom, FF and I took later that day.

Day 273's thing I've never done before was to visit Lake Lanier's Cocktail Cove.

The name, "Cocktail Cove," does a pretty good job of explaining what the place is all about--a cove on the lake where boats park and drink cocktails.

On second thought, if they really wanted to be clear perhaps they should've called it, "Cocktail Cove full of awful people with barbed wire tattoos and fake boobs wearing Confederate flag string bikinis dancing promiscuously while listening to Nickelback, smoking Menthol cigarettes and drinking Hunch Punch out of insulated cups donning their names in puff paint."

Tom prepared me for the outward cheesiness of Cocktail Cove, but I wasn't quite prepared to see a boat named "The G Spot," with the "G" in the style of the University of Georgia "G." Stay classy, fellow Bulldogs.

If forced to spend a day there, I would have, without a doubt, enjoyed myself. I've been told by others that I could have fun in a paper bag, and I believe it's true. I may have even joined in on some of the shenanigans that I experienced on my short trip, including, but not limited to, booty-dancing with strangers on other boats, screaming the lyrics to Bob Marley songs, and stumbling around wasted with my bathing suit barely covering my private parts.

But overall, Cocktail Cove for me is a lot like the Pavilion at Myrtle Beach. I'm glad I went to see what all the fuss was about, but if I never went back, I think I'd be okay with that.

According to Tom, this Cocktail Cove is different from the Cocktail Cove of a few years ago, but only in location. The people, he said, are more or less the same, and since I'd been to his lake house before there is a good chance I'd been to the old location. I'd like to think I'd remember a place so unforgettable, but apparently not.

If what Tom said is true, I think I have a way to market the new Cocktail Cove.

Cocktail Cove: New Location, Same Terrible People

Day 272: Oprah! Pick Me! I'm a Party!

Day 272's thing I've never done before was to audition for my own show on the Oprah network.

I put myself to bed early on Day 271 so that I could wake up early on Day 272 and drive north of Atlanta to Roswell, Georgia where the auditions were taking place in the parking lot of Kohl's discount store.

According to Oprah's website, which I had consulted many times in the days leading up to Day 272, her staff would begin handing out wristbands at 7am and would stop handing them out at 12pm. The application needed to be filled out completely before auditioning. Any hopes of speaking to the media giant herself were quashed, as the site made it abundantly clear that OPRAH WILL NOT BE IN ATTENDANCE AT THE ATLANTA AUDITIONS. If there was specific detail about exactly what the audition would entail, I forgot to read it; I simply showed up with my application and hoped for the best.

I was not surprised to show up to find hundreds of people in the parking lot, all hoping to become the star of their own show. Some were dressed to the nines, others were more casual like me. The whole scene was circus-like: there were members of the local media on hand, folks hugging and greeting each other, and people selling bottled waters out of coolers helping contestants to beat the heat. It was 7:30am. It was weird.

Once out of my car and in the mix, though, that despite drawing was surprised to find that despite the mass quantities of people, the entire operation was extremely organized. The amount of people who had come out to audition was intimidating and gave the impression of complete chaos and disorganization.

Leave it to Oprah, the most successful woman in television to bring a sense of calm, and class to the audition process. None of this American-Idol-sleep-out-on-the-sidewalk-for-days-in-advance bullshit. Nope, Oprah's approach was far more civilized. Come, in an orderly fashion to retrieve a wrist band, and then come back at the your scheduled time. Don't waste your whole day out here.

While waiting in line, I met a middle-aged attractive woman and her husband who had driven up from Destin, Florida. She was clutching her audition material in one hand, and a microphone in the other; her husband was holding amateur video equipment. She told me that she has a blog, inspiring women to embrace getting older and live life to the fullest. She excused herself for a minute, turning briefly into a television reporter while her husband filmed her showing her blog audience the parking lot full of Oprah show hopefuls.

When she was done taping her little bit, we continued our conversation. I told her that I also had a blog and explained its premise. My show idea was an extension of my blog, encouraging regular people, just like me, to step outside their comfort zone and try new things.

Side note: if you told me a year ago that I'd be discussing blogs with complete strangers in the parking lot of Kohl's in Roswell, Georgia, I would've said you were crazy, but alas, there I was.

Complete stranger blogger friend said she loved the idea of Project 29 to 30 and asked if she could interview me for her blog. Duh, I told her, of course you can. So she asked me questions about my show idea while her husband taped it.

When I made it to the head of the line, I received a wrist band for and was told to come back at 5pm. That time would've been perfect, if I had nothing to do for the rest of the day. But my friend Melissa's wedding was scheduled to start at 6:30pm in the city, so even if this audition took just an hour, and I suspected it would last longer, there was no way I would be able to make it back in time. I considered asking if I could change my time with someone else, but when I looked at the wrist band, I noticed there wasn't a specific time listed on it.

So I went home and slept for several hours, woke up and got a pedicure, watched a little bit of the World Cup game. Then I packed all of my things for the wedding, and headed back to Roswell.

I parked my car and walked towards a large tent where lanes were roped off. Like a bouncer, a staff member checked my wrist band and checked to see that I had my application in hand before instructing me to stand in one of the lanes. As I walked forward in the lane, I could see ahead of me eight or ten tents with other contestants sitting in a semi-circle around a table. Behind the table was an Oprah staffer. Everyone seemed very laid back and relaxed; there was even laughter coming from the tents. I breathed a sigh of relief.

While in line, I met a woman named Carrie who had driven from from Chicago. She is a social worker who works with at-risk youth helping to prevent teenage pregnancy. She told me her show would draw from the real-life cases she deals with to focus on teen issues, and helping young people reach their full potential.

She was spunky, and had a great smile, and we chatted until the Oprah staff said it was now our turn to go. In each lane, they counted 20-25 people off and sent them to take a seat under one of the tents. The seats were in a semi-circle around a desk with a chair behind it. On the desk were stacks of applications. Judging by the stacks, these casting agents had already had quite a busy day.

After we were seated, a young, skinny guy sauntered over to the tent; he loudly and gruffly introduced himself to everyone.

"I'm Billy. I'm 26. I live in Los Angeles and I work in casting. We're going to go around in a circle. Tell us your name. Your age. Your show idea. We don't have a lot of time, so keep it brief. If you're taking too long, I'll tell you to wrap it up so we can move on."

And then he collapsed into a chair behind the table, leaned back and pointed at the woman directly to his left.
"You're up," he said to her. The woman

"Wait, wait," he stopped himself. "One more thing. Keep in mind that I'm the one making the decisions here, so while it's nice to engage the others, you should be directing your pitches to me."

Little 26-year old Billy was humorous, but he was also an ass.

The first woman stood up and said her name was Annie. She lives in Nashville where she is an advocate for victims of physical and sexual abuse. She wanted her show to offer a lending ear for victims and serve as a platform for those issues.

Another woman that looked like soap opera star Susan Lucci stood up wearing a form-fitting red dress. She said she wanted to host a show about woman over their fifties, and call it "50 and Fabulous." I thought about my reluctance to turn 30 and smiled. This woman is definitely aging gracefully and though I've got a long way to go until 50, I think I could learn a lot from her.

One woman stood up and smiled at the group before dropping an enormous bomb on all of us: my husband is Georgia's version of Bernard Madoff. In 2006 he scammed all of his employees for millions of their retirement money. And then he left me for this secretary. I'm raising our 12-year old daughter on my own. I confess I have no idea what her show idea was because I was too shocked and too sad that chose to share this very private, very devastating information with all of us.

One by one, each member of our tent circle rose to pitch their story idea. The environment was friendly and even though we were all "competing," against each other for our own show, there was a sense of camaraderie among our group. Maybe because we all knew how nerve-racking an experience like this is or maybe it was because we were all nearly melting under the hot Roswell sun. Regardless, I found myself smiling at each one of them, proud that we'd all been so courageous.

One man wanted to host a show about money matters after having worked at a bank for years. Another extremely worked up man paced back and forth shouting like an evangelical preacher about kids refusing to wear their pants on their waists and ending up in prison. Apparently after a child "low rides" their trousers, prison is the next step. I tried not to laugh as I pictured Chris Farley's motivational speaker character from Saturday Night Live. One woman who called herself a "performance artist" got up and read a poem that she had written.

I meant it when I said everyone was putting out good vibes for each other, but I admit, as each participant stood up to pitch their show idea, I couldn't help but think, "My idea is so much better than that."

Despite my confidence though, when it was finally my turn to pitch, I was nervous. Really nervous.

"Hello, my name is Stephanie and I'm on a year-long quest to do 365 things I've never done before. Today, Day 272's thing I've never done before is to audition for my very own show on the Oprah Network!"

I tried to sound as upbeat as I possibly could, but I think my nerves got the better of me. My voice was shaking and my knees were too. But when I went on to explain that for every one of the last 272 days I'd done something that I'd never done before, Annie looked me right in the eye and smiled, nodding her head at me. I could tell she was interested in the project and her reaction gave me energy to get through the rest of my pitch.

"I have had such an amazing year, thanks to the people who have offered to help me try new things. I want my show to encourage people to step out of their comfort zone to try the things they've never done before. I can take someone sky-diving for the first time, or take them to the spa to get their hair dyed a different color."

I think Billy had fallen asleep at this point, and I noticed he never wrote anything down while any of us were talking. He barely even glanced at the 16-page application that everyone had filled out. Either he was not interested in any of our ideas, or, I considered when I left, maybe the decision for this contest had already been made.

As I was walking away from the tent to my car, a woman and her daughter, who had both auditioned under my tent, came up to me.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like Uma Thurman?," one of them asked me.

"What?," I said, smiling coyly. I heard what she said, I just wanted to hear it again.

"You," she repeated, "You look exactly like Uma Thurman."

She leaned back and looked me over again.

"Yep, you sure do. Just like her."

"That's so nice," I said, "Thank you!"

I think I grew several inches taller on my way to my car. I drove to Kyle's house knowing, for certain, that I wasn't getting my own show on he Oprah network. In fact, I found out later that before the audition in Atlanta ever happened, a hilarious man with cerebral palsy had won the web submission contest and would likely be Oprah's choice.

When Kyle and some of our other friends asked me how it went, I told them I had fun, but they shouldn't hold their breath on my becoming a star. The casting agent was less than impressed with me, but what an experience.

"But," I went on to tell them, "Someone told me that I look like Uma Thurman, so I'm going to call the day a success anyway."

I think perhaps I might've been a little too excited, because while getting ready for the wedding at Kyle's house, I fell down an entire flight of stairs, bruising the entire backside of my body. I hit every single step individually, injuring both my back and my ego enough that warranted everyone at the house to the stairs to make sure I was okay.

First the audition, then the stairs? I was striking out.

I should've been exhausted, but I wasn't. Neither incident could keep me down, and neither kept me, or my friend Trish, who was 8-months pregnant, from hitting the dance floor, taking the dance party of two to an all-out throw down.

Oprah show or not, I remain a one-woman party.

Day 271: Let's Get To Know Each Other

Part of the fun in writing this blog is that I already know what's coming next, and you all reading it do not. Well, for Day 271, I'm going to have to blow the surprise and tell you what was coming on Day 272. The next two day's entries are related.

On Day 272 I auditioned for my own show on the Oprah Winfrey Network.

On Day 271, the thing I've never done before was to fill out the 16-page questionnaire for the audition.

I printed several copies of the application before heading to Wal-Mart on Day 270 and tossed them in the backseat of my car. When I finally took a look at them later, I felt overwhelmed. The application was 16 pages long.

Pages 1-3 were eligibility requirements, making sure all contestants were at least 21 years of age (yep), willing to travel to Los Angeles (sure thing), and not currently an elected official for public office (definitely not).

Pages 11-16 were release forms, which consisted of a lot of legal jargon I didn't understand. I just signed them, releasing my likeness, releasing the answers to the questions.

Pages 4-10 was the actual application, full of questions ranging from extremely easy and standard to extremely thought-provoking.

I didn't really do more than glance at the questions until the afternoon of Day 271, less than 24 hours before I was supposed to actually turn the application in to Oprah's producers. I realized pretty quickly that not all of these questions were going to be easy to answer. And I was running out of time.

There was a part of me that wondered if any of these questions even mattered. If I got there, and pitched the greatest show idea the casting director had ever heard, would how I described myself in one sentence make a difference in the long run? Probably not, but it didn't change the fact that the application had to be filled out. I knew I'd likely bomb the audition, but I didn't want to be eliminated on a technicality.

FF and I had plans to go to dinner that night. He suggested, after I told him I was stressed, that I should bring the application to the restaurant and he'd help me fill it out. I knew there was no way he would be able to help me, "describe my high school experience," (pretty fun, made lots of friends, learned a lot), but I took him up on his suggestion.

Maybe, I thought delusionally, this could be a good getting to know you game. Some of the questions were pretty interesting, and could be a good way for FF and me to get to know each other.

Name, Address, Phone Number, Email address, Schools Attended, Degrees Earned, Occupation.

So far, easy.

Interesting jobs. I'd say driving a truck and trailer across the country promoting Country Music Television qualifies as "interesting job."

What is your dream job? Travel writer. I actually do that job, I just don't get paid for it. Not yet, anyway.

Have you ever been fired from a job? No.

Where did you grow up and how did it influence you? I refrained from telling them that Growing up in Columbia, South Carolina helped me garner an appreciation for strip malls. Instead, I said, "Growing up in Columbia was great. I have a great, supportive family and lots of friends, many of whom still live there. Everyone defines, "normal," differently, but my childhood was pretty standard."

Wow, I thought, as I read back over my responses up to that point, I'm pretty vanilla. Nothing very interesting there.

What's the most important lesson you've ever learned? I'm not sure when I learned this lesson, but I've learned that I'm only in control of myself and what I do. I can't force someone to care or demand that they do things the way that I do them. People don't change because I want them too. It sounds cynical, but it's actually quite liberating.

What was your favorite game as a child? As an adult? My favorite games as a kid always involved me acting older than I really was. Only, instead of, "playing house," I liked to, "play college." My name was Mercedes, I lived in a dorm with a roommate, I always had a boyfriend, and I drove a white VW Rabbit convertible. (I was a huge License to Drive fan, apparently.)

Games as an adult? Does golf count? I think games are supposed to be fun. Golf is stressful. I'm going to have to come back to that one.

Provide an example that shows your level of competitiveness.

I started to write, "I'm really not that competitive at all," but then realized that in this instance, maybe complete honesty is not what they wanted to hear. I had to tailor my answer here to show them that if given the opportunity to try out for this job, I would fight for it in a way that would make for good TV. How can I convey who I really am, but let them know that I'm not opposed to making other contestants cry by clawing their eyes out to get ahead? This question was tricky too.

How do you react when you lose? The same way I act when I win.

How do you react when you win? The same way I act when I lose.

Describe the most important person in your life. My parents. They think I can do anything.

Describe your relationship status. Single and ready to mingle. (This question did not, thankfully, open things up for a "defining the relationship talk" with FF.)

Kids? None.

Describe your most embarrassing moment or experience. I can't remember the worst, but I'm sure it involved falling, either off of a bus or down some stairs.

Tell us your most disappointing moment (getting passed over for a promotion), your best qualities (spontaneous, fun-loving, kind, adaptable), your worst qualities (sensitive, procrastinator, wear my heart on my sleeve), and what does success mean to you (success for me is being happy with exactly what I have and not wanting what someone else has).

At about this point, I was over this application. Surprising, I know, since I've spent the last year talking about myself via this blog, but I was exhausted thinking and talking about myself this much. These questions were thought-provoking and made interesting for conversation for a while, but since I actually had to write my answers down for someone else to read, I couldn't really enjoy the discussion.

What types of people intimidate you?

I'd say off all the questions, this one stumped me the most, because it was one I hadn't really thought about before. I don't intimidated too often, but people who intimidate me are usually ones that are completely different from me. People who are reserved, careful with their words, effortlessly cool, and borderline aloof. Since I've never been like that, I find those who are, intimidating.

At the top of Page 9, the paper read, in all capital letters: PLEASE ANSWER EACH QUESTION HONESTLY.

Wait, what?

I had been honest on Pages 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 (minus the question about being competitive), but maybe they were looking for some good storytelling? Whatever, I thought, it’s too late to go back. I’m letting my answers stand.

Have you ever hit anyone in anger or self-defense? No. I'm a chicken. Other than my brother when we were kids, I don't think I've ever even slapped someone. I hugely regret this, at age 29, because I can think of some people who deserved a little slap from me.

This is when the "getting to know you game," started to get interesting, and I thought about fabricating some story about a huge bar fight I got into once just to see what FF's reaction would be.

The fun and games stopped, however, when I arrived at the next question.

Are you now, or have you ever seen a therapist, psychologist or psychiatrist?

As soon as I spoke the word, "therapist," I put my pen down, looked up from the paper down and said to FF, "Well, this is awkward.”

“What?” he said.

I sat back in my chair. He gave me a puzzled look.

"I've seen a therapist before," I said, matter-of-factly, as if I was revealing that I used to be a man or that I had several illegitimate children.

He tilted his head towards me and smiled.

"Okay," he said.

I resisted the urge to keep talking but the urge to explain to him why I had seen a therapist prevailed.

"It was years ago and I had a lot of anxiety and I wasn't sleeping or eating and I just needed to get some stuff out," I said in one long sentence like a crazy person. If he was ever confused as to why I had seen a therapist, he probably wasn't now.

"Okay," he said again. He did not seem at all fazed by this information.

For the record, I'm not ashamed that I've gone to therapy. I think therapy is highly underrated. I'm just not sure this is the sort of information I was ready to share at this time, at this location. My tendency to "over share," had once again put me in an uncomfortable position. Regardless, he seemed to take it well.

In an effort to divert the conversation, I went on to the rest of the questionnaire, which was pretty easy. Why do you think you'll win? Because my idea is awesome, and so am I. What do you bring that is completely unique? My self-deprecating humor. And my hair.

It asked about allergies (none), medications (none), arrests (none, yet), felonies (none).

And then I signed off that all of my previous statements were the truth as I know it. Therapy and all.