Shattered dreams

My dream is dead.

I was going to be a star. A movie star. I was going to be rich and famous and wow audiences and stun critics with my talent as Denzel Washington's love interest. And now it's over.

After more than 20 minutes of blood, sweat, and tears, the dream is dead. We were too late for the casting call.

Apparently, Denzel Washington is going to be filming a movie in the next town over, and today there was an open casting call. Sure, it was supposed to be for extras, but I just knew that when they saw me, the casting directors would be so blown away by my talent (which would somehow be evident by my mere presence) that they would cast me in a lead role. In fact, they would probably re-write the movie so that it centered more around my character. And make sequels, lots of sequels.

Sadly, I did not learn of this 12-8 pm casting call until 7:45 pm. David's cousin saw it in the paper and called to see if I was crazy enough to stop what I was doing right that second and go with her. She said she couldn't get anyone else to go, but I'm pretty sure what she meant by that was, "You are beautiful and talented, and I love being with you, but I had to ask everyone else in the family first so their feelings wouldn't be hurt, but it's really you I wanted to go." Or something close anyway.

So, having a limited number of opportunities to do crazy and spontaneous things since I'm almost 29 years old again, and I live in Arctic Mayberry, I said yes. Yes, if you absolutely insist, I'll stop cleaning the bathroom and go become rich and famous. Thus, my dream was born.

And 20 minutes later it was dead. (Or at least floundering on life-support. I guess it wasn't fully dead for another 10 minutes, which is when we gave up hope of finding the casting director's hotel.)

So now Mary Esther and I (I started to abbreviate her name as ME, but then it read "ME and I," and I was afraid that would give some of you the impression that I was schizophrenic, or worse yet, that I use incorrect grammar, so I'll have to write out her name) are trying to find another way to achieve fame and fortune without actually having to do any work. We're considering reality t.v., but we're running into a lot of roadblocks.

Our stomachs are too weak for shows that involve drinking cow's blood or eating roaches, so Survivor and Amazing Race are out.

We have no talent, so American Idol and America's Got Talent are obviously out.

We have no readily noticeable neuroses, addictions, sordid pasts, or plastic body parts so Big Brother is out.

We don't have enough children for a show on TLC . . . though, if we adopted sixteen kids who were all blind and mute and maybe missing a limb. Hmm, maybe there's hope yet.