passion...schmassion

day 10289: oh to be witty

If only I could be witty, or funny, or even spectacularly brilliant, I could dazzle you with words and let everyone think that I am a literary superhero with tons of lovely things to say and actual interesting thoughts to read. Scores of random strangers would shower me with love and praise every day and tell me how envious they are about my wonderfully exciting life and how cute my dear little puppy dog is and how much they just want to cover her up in bbq sauce and gobble her up.

I could be interviewed by The North York Mirror or The Bayview Post (because every semi-decent newspaper seems to be doing an article on blogs), and they’d do a perfectly inspired article on me, my life and the secret identity behind this site, which would not remain secret for very long, I supposed. I could even have my own column and be the Asian-Canadian version of Carrie from Sex in the City. Oh joy of joys.

Of course, it would embarrass my mother to no end. We couldn’t have that. But it could lead to some literary agent (or editor or similar person with equally good connections) calling me out of the blue and demanding to see the first three chapters for a book I have yet to even begin thinking of writing… and definitely do not have time to even start thinking of. And the money would roll in.

If only.

Then I’d be filled with a sense of wonder and purpose and oh-my-god-I’m-so-popular-amongst-strangers thoughts. My life would be perfect and rosy and so-oh-my-god-I’ve-found-my calling. My site meter would soar to infinite numbers and I’d have my fifteen minutes of fame.

Except that I’ve already had my life-time-allotted-fifteen minutes of fame. You see, I was a child television star.

[gasp]

At the tender age of six or maybe it was seven or maybe even five, I made my first appearance on NATIONAL TELEVISION.

[insert wild studio audience cheering and clapping]

Yes, I was on… are you ready for this…? I was on Just Like Mom. The game show that every kid wanted to be on just because you got to spin the wheel and try to win the trip to DISNEYLAND. Because DISNEYLAND is the happiest place on earth and only the very lucky of lucky children get to go to DISNEYLAND.

Joy of joys.

They bundled me up in my television-best… purple sweatshirt and a matching purple skirt (with white hearts… ooooh), safety pinned a white pompom to my chest (oh, so cute), curling-ironed my hair to try to get my cowlick to stay down and sent me (and my mom… get it… Just Like Mom) trotting off to the studio.

Think of it like the Newlywed Game , only you’re laughing at children instead of blonde-sex-hazed bimbos. Oh, and there's a bake-off.

I was sleepy, I was tired. I was confused like a penguin in Florida. I didn’t answer a single question correctly, didn’t know the meaning of the word “pasta,” baked an amazingly mayonnaise-filled chocolate chip cookie (I love mayo, so everyone else must love mayo in their cookies) and ended up losing to a girl named Allison. Allison, who looked like she was from California and was a good couple of years older than me. WHO DIDN'T EVEN SPIN THE WHEEL PROPERLY SO SHE DIDN'T WIN THE TRIP TO DISNEYLAND!!!

[gasp... horror...horror]

I would have won. Instead, all I got was a bunch of soap, a watch and t-shirt that said “I was on JUST LIKE MOM” which I wore when I went to DISNEYLAND later that year anyway. Which reminds me... I think I was five.

So what was the point of all this? Oh yeah… if only I was witty.