The Real World

Last night, someone from a cable network came over to my apartment and interviewed me on camera to be the star of a reality show.

I'm not really the kind of chick who lands herself her own reality show. I like death metal and horror movies. I have body piercings and a tattoo. My room is a mess. And I suspect I may be too fat for TV. Really, it's the kind of thing you'd expect to see Stephanie Klein on -- well, pre-marriage and pre-moving to Texas and pre-knocked-up anyway. But still, I'm floored that I was even considered, and the whole interview process was fun. I also learned something important about myself -- I am really bad on camera.

I mean, really bad. I said "um" and looked at the ceiling a whole lot. I could tell I was situated in quite possibly the most awkward position on the couch. I kept getting flashbacks to that time Bruce, the sound guy at WRGB News, told me I had the voice of a stoned 12-year-old boy. Another thing I did was that nervous talking thing. I was all like "I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."

Only I was talking about like, dating and my friends and stuff. And I'm thinking, "Why am I telling her all of this stuff? If I don't get picked to be on the television show, are they going to use this in like the first episode? Me talking and talking and talking and being TMI girl for no reason?" So yeah, it was a little stressful.

Now that it's all over, I'm fairly certain I'm not getting my own reality show. Which is fine, because if I'm being honest, I don't want my own reality show. I prefer the blog, where I get to control the editing. Plus, I'd probably have to explain why I'm a 31-year-old woman who makes a decent living yet lives in an apartment resembling a dorm room. And I'm pretty sure Mom would never forgive me if I was on television swearing like a sailor and talking about my sex life. She's mortified enough by The Bedroom Blog.