But am I obnoxious enough to be selected for reality television? That’s right, my friends, I am applying for Survivor. As in, I am about to walk across campus, video camera in hand, and tape a submission for my application. I’m getting nervous just thinking about it, but then I remember how much of a douchebag I am, and I start to calm down a bit.
I mean seriously, how many people in reality television aren’t at least a little douchey? It’s almost as if the casting directors have a box they check on the recruitment applicant paperwork. And I can always fall back on the fact that, I don’t know, I’m getting a master’s degree. Or that I went to a phenomenal undergraduate institution. Or I have great friends that have my back no matter what. Or, best of all, I am not applying to be on Tool Academy.
I already filled out my application, all twenty pages of it, and now I just have to talk about myself. To be perfectly honest, and rather ironic seeing as I’m writing this on a blog, I vehemently hate talking about myself. As in it legitimately makes me uncomfortable and I have to suppress the urge to squirm. However, if I’m going to be successful and get on the show that everyone tells me is perfect for my personality, I’m going to have to learn quickly. I already listed my three adjectives as “abrasive, charming, and intelligent.” I already told them that my friends think of me as the loud and obnoxious one, the guy who’s psychotically competitive and turns everything into a game, that player that would be borderline sociopathic in how he used other people to get himself closer to the finals. They asked me who I would play like from a previous season, and I listed Randy – because I honestly don’t care what strangers on a TV show think about me. So now I have to drive it home with this video.
I have to make what is abundantly clear to anyone who meets me in person come across on a cold, stale camera. I have to make it obvious that I am brutally honest, sarcastic, and sometimes downright rude in how I assess people around me. Sometimes I don’t even notice a line when I go after enemies, or friends for that matter, and while it certainly doesn’t help my relationships, it would be perfect for ratings. My problem with male authority figures, and authority in general, would most likely rear its ugly head and make for a good fight at some point. And I guarantee you I would call out Probst for being such a jack ass.
So here’s to wishing myself good luck. Because that’s what real douchebags do – they look out for themselves.