Ok, ok. You guys (and Momus, and my kids, and my mom) convinced me. I’m going to go for it. Friday I accepted my invitation to audition for Jeopardy. And let the games begin.
Saturday I received the email with the full details (and contestant questionnaire) of my audition. Then the panic attack really commenced. I am outside of my comfort zone in pretty much every realm:
1) The amount of information I now have to cram (or re-cram) into my head is epic. I spent Saturday memorizing all of the capitals of Europe, Asia, and South America. Africa and Oceania still to come. Miraculously, I still knew most of my state capitals. And I was able to teach myself all of the state flags in just a couple of hours (we’ll see if they stick). But oh, my goodness. I have to brush up on my Shakespeare, learn a few composers (and operas!), and I know way too little about the Bible. Help! I think I’m going to spend the next month reading nothing but The World Book Encyclopedia.
2) Thursday I called my mom and told her the news. She’s an avid Jeopardy fan, so she was very excited. Of course, her first question was “What are you going to wear?” Because that’s how my mom rolls. She also knows that I have about as much chance of dressing myself like a grownup as Momus does of making it through a day without cracking a joke. So I’ve been given marching orders to go out and try on a bunch of tops and take selfies (have I mentioned that I hate a selfie?) so that she can tell me what I should buy. This should be fun. If only I weren’t completely mall phobic, I might be able to pull it off.I am the least interesting person you have ever met Click To Tweet
3) Sunday my daughter pointed out “you have a lot of grey hair, mom.” So I marched myself to the woman who cuts my hair, who also knows that I am completely incompetent as an adult human being, and asked for her advice. She’s going to give me something called a “partial foil” (sounds like something you do to a baked potato) a week ahead of time. She says that it will cover the grey, but that when I inevitably fail to renew it, I won’t have a big fat line across my head where the dye is growing out. Ok, I guess I can do that. Hopefully I won’t have the kind of freak-out I had the one time that I got a facial.
4) Did I mention that I don’t really wear makeup? Lord, help me.
5) And then there’s the questionnaire. I have to come up with five “brief bits” about myself to supply Alex with interview fodder should I make the show. You know the part of the show where Alex asks the contestants about their porcelain cat collection or the fact that they spent a year crossing Greenland on a dog sled? I got nothing. No, really. I am the least interesting person you have ever met. The most interesting thing about me is probably the fact that I write this blog. And that’s a secret from everyone I know in “real life”. So I can’t even tell them that!
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…