Tuesday afternoon marked a momentous occasion in my life: my first encounter with reality television.
It was like one of those moments in movies where the clouds part and the sun shines down like a spotlight and the birds sing and beer replaces all the water on earth. Fate. Auditions for MTV's ""The Real World"" at Brothers.
I'm pretty sure I was born to be on TV. Unfortunately, I have no acting skills and most people don't like me based on first impressions, so being a celebrity, like a bona fide one, has never been an option for me. It seemed that years before I ever had my chance, my dreams had been dashed.
But nothing makes dreams come true like being on reality TV. For myself and millions of —OK, probably more like a few other—desperate souls, the idea of having our 15 minutes of fame is almost too much to handle.
So it's almost too much for me to imagine what being on ""The Real World"" would be like. Forget 15 minutes... give me five months. Who cares if the entire world would see me at my worst? My self-respect and sense of decency were lost years ago.
Walking into Brothers felt like walking into a Western shoot-out. I felt on-edge as I grabbed an application and settled into a booth, surveying my competition. The application was exactly what I expected, and still I had trouble answering some of the questions.
My most embarrassing moment? Probably something that I haven't done yet today. Or that time when I got stuck in the Tube doors in London and freaked out while my flatmates looked on in horror.
What do I look for in a romantic partner? Money.
Tattoos or piercings? Yes and yes. Put me on your show and I'll let you see.
After completing the application, which took me a lot longer than it should have, I had to sit and wait to be asked to interview.
Eight of us were then led up to our face-to-face interviews with the casting director. The questions she asked were similar to the ones on the application forms.
What is something you're passionate about? Finding the best-tasting, least-filling light beer.
The girl sitting next to me, in my opinion, gave an answer that made her a shoo-in. ""I'm passionate about my faith in our lord Jesus Christ."" She caught me so off guard I proceeded to fall off my stool. The interviewer looked down and asked me, ""Have you been drinking?""
I had to think for a moment and hesitantly said, ""Well, not yet.""
I figured since I was as sober as is possible for me, I would have to get her to understand that this was just the tip of my crazy iceberg.
Describe yourself in three words.
The other interviewees took turns going around the table.
""Smart. Funny. Sexy.""
""Strong. Independent. Faithful.""
""Blonde. Pretty... that's all.""
My turn: ""Lover. Of. Birds,"" as I lifted up my shirt to reveal my newly acquired swan tattoo on my rib cage.
The rest of the interview is kind of a blur given the euphoric high I was experiencing from the thought of actually joining the ""Real World"" cast and then getting invited to do challenges. And then meeting Wes, the sexiest ginger walking the planet.
Apparently, though, the casting director did not realize that in order to fulfill my life-long dream, she would have to offer me a spot on her show. So she didn't.
As devastated as I was about not being offered a spot right then and there, I was offered some consolation when we were informed that some applicants would receive callbacks in the coming days.
But I didn't. I feel disappointed. I'm trying to come to grips with not being accepted, but it's just so hard. So instead, I've convinced myself that some kind of clerical error has been made. I'll be getting a call any day now. I have to. It's my destiny.
Do you work for MTV and want to clear up the confusion? Or give Jillian her own show? E-mail her at jlevy2@wisc.edu.
