What the hell, I figured. My roommate, Kramer, as well as Whit were baffled.
You really want to do this? / No offense, but you're not exactly the type.
Oh, but I can pretend to be that type, I told them, smiling. This should be good.
The interview took place in - surprise, surprise - Beverly Hills in Suite 1012 in a building that - what a shocker - performed plastic surgery. I spoke with a man in his forties whose Blackberry constantly buzzed and who immediately decided I would not be a good candidate until we started talking. He'd very slowly and clearly make a reference to the contest and the rules that we'd have to follow, and I very quickly and sarcastically made a reference to the types of girls that he must meet every day in order to be speaking to me at such a lethargic pace. He laughed, and I pretty much owned the room for the remaining time we had together. He said I'd have to work on my arms and legs, but that the rest of me was fine. Golly, he sure knew how to get a lady. As I stood up, he did a double-take and told me that actually, I didn't have to work on the legs. BAM. Damn right I don't. I left the room knowing that he probably was checking out my butt as I went. Ugh, what an experience.
A week later I got an email that boasted at the top:
Congratulations Jamie on being accepted as a contestant for the
MISS CALIFORNIA USA® 2011 Pageant!
Oh, no.During the interview I got to choose two cities (one major, one not-so-much) within Los Angeles as well as an LA landmark that I would represent. The email congratulated me on becoming Miss Hidden Hills, representing LA Live. Why? Because I work at ESPN Zone LA Live and because I randomly Google Mapped a cool LA city name, and that's what popped up. The only next thing I had to do was find sponsorship, fill out a bunch of forms -- and, oh, pay $1500 for entry costs. Um, jigga-what? Very soon I made the decision to not be Miss Hidden Hills. So sad to see you go, they replied.
A couple weeks later I got an email that boasted the headline:
Discount of $1,250.00 for returning contestants ends this Friday.
Save money for other expenses!
Save money for other expenses!
Nope, I'm good.
Flash forward to today. My mom emails me this link.
Well, as Whit told me, didn't I get out just in the nick of time.
Flash forward to today. My mom emails me this link.
Well, as Whit told me, didn't I get out just in the nick of time.
This is just as funny to me as it is ridiculous for a number of reasons:
1) No one could understand why Miss Beverly Hills was able to claim such a title when, in fact, she was from Pasadena. (As I mentioned, every girl could choose any random city they want to represent, and if it's taken, she could choose another - like picking a username for your Bank of America account.) This selection process has been going on for a while, now... No one noticed?
2) I think the mayor might have forgotten that Americans have the freedom of religion and the freedom of speech. Oh, and
3) A decade ago, Miss Beverly Hills would be disowned for saying that she did think gay marriage was okay, not the opposite.
What can I say? People are nuts! Or, at least, LA people are nuts. I can't believe I willingly moved from Normalsville, Illinois, to this crazy town. (ASIDE: Here is where I was going to write "Planters" and link the word to a website with the phrase "Relax. Go nuts," their catch phrase, as a clever finish to this blog. Instead, I could only find the following Planters catch phrases:
"Instinctively good."
"There's a whole lotta snack goin' on."
Ummmm???
Sigh. So it goes.)
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