Journey to Oz, Part Deux

This is me being super famous in my dressing room.

I was due at Rockefeller Center at 8 a.m. in the morning for the 10 a.m. taping. I got up at 7 and began the preparations for making myself effortlessly beautiful. My primary concern was eliminating under-eye bags and having a solid poop that made me feel five pounds lighter. I killed two birds with one stone by doing my make-up while sitting on the toilet. (I’m sure that’s how all the great actors of our time prepare for a television appearance.)

At 7:30 a.m., an Oz Show junior assistant producer called to make sure I was still coming. At that point, my hair was wet, I didn’t have any pants on, and I still had a few unresolved pooping issues. I told her I was on my way out the door and began to haul ass.

The best I could do was arrive at Rockefeller Center 10 minutes late in a sweaty panic. I had a feeling that I wasn’t quite famous enough to be arriving late for a show taping because curling my hair and pooping took longer than expected.

While I waited for someone from the Oz Show to come get me and/or kick me off the show, I continuously fanned myself with a dirty napkin and re-applied powder. I was hemorrhaging sweat and didn’t know where to fan first. Should I try and save my hair? Or my melted make-up? Was the river of ass crack sweat flowing down my jeans visible? Would it be bad to take my clothes off for just a second to cool off?

Luckily, the Oz producers forgot about me down in the lobby for 15 minutes and at that point I really didn’t care. I was sweating like an NBA star in the fourth quarter of the finals and was in no shape to be anywhere but over a drainage system.

When someone from the show finally arrived, the sweat storm was mostly over and I was just trying to eliminate the visible signs of wetness from my hair and clothes. The junior assistant producer silently escorted me to the sixth floor where I was greeted with a refreshing mist of highly air conditioned air. I smiled for the first time that morning.

For the next two hours, I lived the life of a TV star. It was filled with highs (hair and make-up!) and lows (healthy snacks in the dressing room) but I managed to learn a few things.

• The hair and make-up people are goddesses.
  Upon my arrival, I was immediately whisked over to the hair and make-up room where the make-up lady took out her magic wand and made my wrinkles, bags, and sunspots disappear. Presto! Next I went over to the hair mistress who casually transformed my dry, limp, sweaty hair into a thick flowing lock of curls. The entire time I was there, I kissed those ladies’ asses like they were the only asses left on the planet. They either get their asses kissed a lot or they just didn’t care because they responded by nodding their heads, applying another layer of lip gloss/smoothing cream and heading on their merry way.

• You will be told many, many times that you are the smartest/funniest/most attractive person on the planet.
  It’s no wonder celebrities are complete nightmares! I was told I was “Beautiful!” “Awesome!” and “Funny!” about 42 times in the two hours I was a part of the show. I can only imagine what kind of holy terror I would become if that was a normal part of my daily living. After the first 30 minutes, I was this-close to demanding a car and a pet monkey because I began believing I was “special.” I’d be willing to bet that some of the other less-grounded guests are still back at the NBC Experience Store trying to get free Law & Order t-shirts and Psych key chains because they are “television stars.”
• TV producers are thorough and confusing. Or thoroughly confusing.
  Sure, they want you to be fun and spontaneous, but they also want you to “practice” being fun and spontaneous for them so they can maybe offer a few suggestions on just how to be fun and spontaneous. Before we hit the stage, no fewer than three show producers casually “stopped by” my dressing room to wish me luck and then proceeded to walk me through what was going to happen and offer suggestions on how I should respond. As a parting shot before they left the room, they encouraged me to have fun out there and play off what Dr. Oz said or did. Should I be fun or should I do what they say?! (At least they thought my hair looked great.)
• There are cameras everywhere, and thus, there are televisions screens everywhere.
  As I’ve previously noted (probably too many times for people to care), the hair and make-up people are amazing. So when I noticed that there was a TV screen above Dr. Oz’s head during the taping of the segment, and that the TV screen was only broadcasting images of myself and my fellow contestant, I had to make a very concerted effort to pay attention to Dr. Oz and not look at the gorgeous blondie on the screen above him. I caught myself subtly swinging my hair around to see what it looked like from all angles and had to not-so-gently remind myself that I could lovingly stare at myself back at the hotel once this was all over, but for now I needed to focus. (You can see what kind of self-absorbed terror I had already become. My pet monkey would totally agree.)

When it was time for the taping, my fellow contestant and I were escorted onto the stage and placed in front of two podiums. We were going to be asked three questions related to fast food breakfasts offered by Subway, Burger King, and Dunkin Donuts. The hard part would be not eating the donuts or French Toast sticks put in front of me during the contest. (I can’t help it – I’m a nervous eater!)

When Dr. Oz bounded into the studio, everyone lost their shit and I began to worry that my fellow contestant (who was an Oz Super Fan) was going to faint. I tried to whisper above the roar of the crowd valuable tips to her like, “Remember to breathe!” and “Don’t lock your knees!” I also tried to smile in a casual but beautifully smart fun way. And I clapped. I’m sure I clapped. And I tried not to pee my pants or fart or fall over or swear or spit or scream spontaneously.

Dr. Oz posted himself behind a fake drive-thru window and asked if we ever ate fast food for breakfast. My fellow contestant and I then made the shocking confession that we didn’t always have time to eat breakfast at home and were forced to sometimes eat fast food. It was a totally spontaneous answer that was not practiced or planned?

Then it was time for the true test of our fast food knowledge. He set out two options from Dunkin Donuts and asked us to select the healthiest option. To be completely honest, the healthy option looked gross so I went with my heart and chose the less healthy option of a whole wheat bagel. I knew I was wrong but told myself that maybe they’d cast me as a recurring character who challenges Dr. Oz’s advice and continues to eat the less sexy but more yummy fast food options, all the while swinging my thick hair back and forth for my legions of fans.

It could happen.

The next selection was from Subway. I stuck to the script and picked the healthy option. One point for me! The last option was a choice between a yummy looking sausage breakfast bowl and a yucky looking bowl of oatmeal from Burger King. Do I choose with my heart or my brain?

I went with my brain and of course the stupid thing was right. Yay? One point for me.

When Dr. Oz asked why I had chosen the oatmeal, I told him I knew it was the right choice but then noted that I didn’t particularly like oatmeal. Cue laugh track! Oh, wait, they don’t have a laugh track on a daytime talk show. Shoot. Dr. Oz chuckled briefly, thanked me for my honesty, and moved on to the next contestant.

When it was over, the junior assistant producers appeared to escort us off stage, take our microphones, and assure us that we were awesome and amazing. I collected my purse and gift bag from the dressing room (a free XXL Dr. Oz Show t-shirt!) and re-joined the audience for the rest of the taping. And so ended my 15 minutes of fame.

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