Aliens in America

Like everyone else, I've seen this picture:

So when I opened up the CW website, I immediately assumed "Aliens in America" was a clever advertisement for ANTM. Ah, how I under estimate the anti-brilliance of the CW!

Anyway, I finally got off my ass long enough to digitize our America’s Next Top Model tryout interviews. I have to warn everyone that the sound quality is bad (yes, even worse than usual.) so if you are listening to it, I really have to give you mad props. Enjoy!

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Click here to listen to the ANTM tryouts episode

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The day started out well enough. Well, no, let me back track. It started out badly but then got better, which in the whole picture, made sense. I went to pick Scotty up at school. The collegiates came out of their class, and a new group went in, still, no Scotty. Finally, after waiting for an hour (Betch, you owe me! I only give Aaron 15 minutes before leaving.), just as I pulled up to my garage, Scotty called. Turns out he had skipped class and fallen asleep at home, conveniently with his phone off. Damn you sprint and your faulty chargers!

But I digress. I head over to pick up Scotty, and we get some quick lunch on the way. When we arrived, I felt as if I had inhaled not chicken nuggets and fries, but rather an entire bale of hay. And somewhere in that haystack, a needle was poking at my bladder. No matter, we do a quick recording in the car, and hit the ground running!

As we walked towards Drink Houston – wait, back track again!! Ok, whoever decided to hold this thing at a club during the daytime, and not serve drinks, was an idiot. The club was very damp and dark, with barely any seating. Everyone was sitting on counters (very hygienic for future drinkers) and it was very uncomfortable. As expected, we made several snide remarks about passing girls such as “HEYO! She’s not trying out, I hope!” or “D-damn girl’s got some badunkadunk,” or “That was a dude, right?” There weren’t very many people outside the club, which was weird. We managed to get a couple of interviews, and it turns out, NO ONE can pronounce chartreuse

Overall the interviews went smoothly. Sadly, no one asked where they can listen to their interviews. The highlight of the interview for me was when we accosted someone who I will now refer to as the Red-Eyed Monster. She barely spoke, was tall (to her credit), but had braces, a full inch of gums that were exposed when she mouthed words to us, and one of her eyes was completely red/scary. I know, I know, I shouldn’t make fun of people with eye diseases, but the soul cancer is digging away at me.

Now for the good part. The three requirements to get inside were you had to be female, between the ages of 18-27, and 5’7”. That is it, ladies. Now we see why we had our pick of the litter for the psycho sluts we see on this show. Scotty and I approached the lady who had the power of the stick (and no, she wasn’t a chick with a dick. If only we were that lucky!). She had the power to turn anyone under 5’7” away. When we asked her for permission for a picture, she encouraged me to try out since I was over 5’7”. Naturally, I was more than flattered (think Mean Girls scene when Cady finds out that she had been nominated for Spring Fling Queen, cut to Damien and Janice do an imitation of her swooning at the thought of possible reign) Still, I was hesitant to go in since Scotty had to leave for work in 10 minutes, and it would take hours for the audition. If you’ve met Scotty, though, you know how hard it is to turn down his big, excited, Chinese-opera like blue eyes and Cheshire grin.

With that, Scotty takes my car and I step into the dangerous world of Sluts“R”Us. As soon as I stepped in line, I realize what a huge mistake I had made. I felt as if I had stepped into a really boring lion’s den. There was possible danger, but most likely you had to wait an eternity for anything exciting to happen. By the time it happens, you’d probably be glad that your head was being chewed off (or in this case, your ribs, and instead of a lion it’s Tyra.) There were about three to four hundred girls in line, and cycle one of ANTM was playing on a huge screen. By the interviews, I knew that in this round, the things they asked girls to do were the following:

State your name and age

Tell them why you want to be America’s Next Top Model

Show them your walk

According to one of the girls, there was no panel of judges/directors/producers. Seems as if only the crew was running this whole shebang. No matter, I decided I’d wait for two hours, maximum. After filling out the 10 page application, I got stir crazy and decided I wanted to go home. I called my sister who proceeded to tell me that I would be a terrible reporter (duh that’s why I’m not one) and that I was failing all of our fans. What happened next is what I would like to call Gays to the Rescue. I called up Max and Liang and they both came over immediately! I was so relieved to have the gays over, and we were quickly giggling and gossiping as Max and Liang ate their pizzas and I scratched my mosquito bites that I had accrued while staring at the Hot Topic sign and cursing A.J. Long story short, the day ended at about 10 p.m. when I asked the “bouncer” (CW lady with clipboard) when my number would be called. She gave me an approximation of “midnight at the earliest” and that was when I decided that I had to go home. After all, a girl’s gotta eat.

And oh yeah, the song from this episode is Hotel Song by Regina King. She is the sexx.