How NOT to Get on The Price Is Right (and other tips)

09 Apr 2015 1 Comment

by CoJo in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A couple of months ago, our friend, Maxwell informed our group of friends that he created a ridiculous amount of email addresses, and eventually scored 20 tickets to The Price Is Right, filming in Hollywood for a Tuesday afternoon.

I didn’t even get the invite yet, when I cleared my calendar and decided on requesting a vacation day.  I shortly after, got the invite (I would have some way wiggled my way in, of course, but the legit invite was nice to have).

The group was intense.  Our group of PB friends is often intense, but throw in a game show in which there is a chance one of us has an opportunity to showcase our intenseness, and we rise to a different level of intense.

It was decided upon that we’d all be wearing Hawaiian shirts, and a party bus from PB to Hollywood was immediately booked for 8am on Tuesday morning, April 7th.  The internet savvy members of the group did their due diligence to find out the best way to actually get to contestants row, and we learned a few things:

  • You’re being judged by roaming producers, as well as hidden cameras as soon as you step foot in line
  • Over-the-top enthusiasm will take you far
  • Large groups of 15-25 are basically guaranteed to get one person chosen for contestants row
  • You need to arrive at noon and plan on being there for 5 hours

Over-the-top enthusiasm?  I’m pretty sure we have that covered on our sleepiest of days.  Add an 8am, three-hour bus ride (including at least one bathroom break), coolers full of mimosas, beer, and some Fireball, and we’ve got the whole audience covered on the enthusiasm-meter.

We get there close to noon, our deadline, and are ready to wait in line for a while (acting peppy and friendly, of course), and ditch alllll of our food and drinks on the bus.

Let’s fast-forward to FOUR HOURS LATER… we are STILL in line.

Here are some things I’ve learned from actually GOING to The Price Is Right:

  • BRING THINGS– drinks, food, whatever floats your boat.  You are waiting in line for legit 3 hours before you even get to the security area where you need to ditch drinks, food, and your cell phone
  • BRING YOUR CELL PHONE– many of our group members left their phones on the bus, after reading the show’s instructions that they would need to be “checked” at the door.  The “check-point” isn’t until an hour before you enter the studio, which leaves you THREE HOURS of potential selfies with your super cool PIR name tags, texts to your jealous friends, and responses to work emails if you happened to just “call in sick” or “work from home” that day.
  • DON”T BE AN ASSHOLE–  there is a fine line between enthusiasm, originality, and assholism.  As a group, we did not put ourselves on the right side of that line.  Being enthusiastic, sweet, friendly, is great.  Leave the cockiness at the door [*guilty as charged]
  • YOU ARE NOT GUARANTEED TO HAVE A GROUP MEMBER GET CHOSEN:  It doesn’t matter how big your group is, if they don’t want one of you, they WON’T PICK ONE OF YOU

As we’re waiting in what seemed to be the last leg of the line, right before security, after several overpriced Red Bulls and stale, tasteless personal pizzas from the show’s “snack stand,” and after being told we ONLY have an hour and a half left ’til we get into the studio, my sister says to me,

“I’m tired of this, do you want to just go to the bar across the street??”

I respond, “Umm.. yeah, if it’s really gonna be another hour and a half, I’ll go.”

“No, I mean, INSTEAD of going to the show.  I”m over this.”

That’s where I put my foot down.  There’s no way I’m waiting in a sea of ridiculous lines for this long, and not even getting in there.  We started making jokes such as,

“What if Carissa gets picked and they’re like ‘CARISSA!!!  COME ON DOWN’ and we have to say on national TV— OH- she’s not here anymore– she went to the bar!!'”

She resorted to just napping once we got to our seats.  She was over it.  Little did she know… there would be NO NAPPING.

The person I feel for the most in production of The Price is Right:  The young’ish looking man, who had a title I can’t even fathom, (Cheer police??) who stood on stage having anxiety attacks every time the cameras rolled, convulsing over getting everyone to stand up, clap, and act like they were having the times of their lives.  This poor guys was sweating down his cheeks and looked like he was about to cry when he wasn’t getting a proper response.

My hands were literally sore from clapping, my voice horse from hooting and hollering, and my Fitbit going out of control with all the fist pumping.  Sitting in the audience of The Price is Right is a much different experience from sitting on your couch.  You can’t hear anything that is happening on the tiny little stage.  You literally have to wait to see poor little Cheer Police’s note card to know who was chosen next to “COME ON DOWN,” because you couldn’t hear a damn thing.

The group of assholes with the Hawaiian shirts and enough enthusiasm to light the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, (even after a mid-afternoon hangover at this point), was strategically seated front and center, two rows behind the contestants.  We were USED.  They baited us before the show started, by saying all the contestants were not yet chosen after the interview process (obvious lies), and that they’d be watching us throughout the show to see who was cheering loudest, and helping out the most.  That’s how they continuously got us out of our chairs and screaming.  We bit the bait.  Bastards.

Contestant after contestant was chosen.  Not.one.of.them.came.from.our.group.  W…T…F…

The beginning of the bus ride home was somewhat solemn.  How did NOT ONE of us get chosen?  We were soooo cool, and fun, and enthusiastic.  Weren’t we??  We got over it by the time we hit the highway, got back to our normal selves, and started  pumping the jams (I’m old… I say pumping the jams), cracking the beer, and passing the Jack.

We made the bus driver get to record speeds on the way home (approximately 55mph), as six of us on the bus had a  co-ed softball game to get to at 9pm.  Forfeiting was not an option.

We made the game.  Me, still in my Hawaiian shirt, jeans, chucks,  and Price is Right name-tag, as I didn’t have a second to change.  We also won the game, due to something I can’t put my finger on.  Probably the fact that the other team had never played softball in their lives??  There’s nothing else I can guess there….

Ginge and I had a talk later on that night… why didn’t any of us get on?  It wasn’t very hard to decode.  After all of the tips we read about being outgoing, enthusiastic, and original, we didn’t really stop to think about the target audience of the show.  Who is the target audience?  Mostly old retired people, maybe some stay-at-home moms, and the obvious kids who pretend they’re sick to stay home from school and binge-watch game shows.

What were we lacking in our approach?  Genuineness.  Plain and simple.  We didn’t need to be these over-the-top ridiculous people, making up fake occupations and turning on the ham.  That’s not what people want to see.  That’s not what people are rooting for.  At least not on this show.  We discussed the people who got called up, and the old woman who won the entire showcase, whose husband, who was bound to a wheelchair was crying tears down his cheeks.  We realized then, people want to see good people win things.  Not annoying people, not crazy-hyper people… real people with good hearts and a great desire to play the game.

We are those people.  We are all, individually, good, genuine people who have good hearts and want to play the game and win things.  Every one of these people I love is that great person you’d cheer for if you knew them.  But I’m not sure we portrayed ourselves in the best light possible.  I’m not going to say we were the drunk idiots of the interview process, because we weren’t.  Maybe we would have been if we knew better…. they kept us in line for so long beforehand that it would have been somewhat impossible to STILL be the drunk idiots that we may have been on the bus.  But they may have read our enthusiasm incorrectly.

Here is my humble advice for anyone who scores tickets to this show:

  •  BE YOURSELF-  Just maybe a less-inhibited version of yourself.  Be friendly and kind, very happy and really want to play the game
  •  BE PREPARED- They tell you not to wear open toed shoes.  Don’t.  Our friend with flip-flops stopped at a store outside the studio and bought a pair of knock-off chucks for $194.  (He’s pleased with his purchase, so all is good).
  • DON”T PLAN ON HAVING A VOICE…OR PALMS the next day:  You will clap like you’ve never clapped before, and yell like you’ve never yelled before.  Even if you don’t want to.  Cheer Police knows what he’s doing.  He’s no joke.  You will clap.  You will yell.

All in all, I could not have thought up a better way to spend my Tuesday.  A group of great friends getting together and sharing an experience so close to home that most don’t really put on their priority list…. we put it on our priority list.  Thank you Maxwell, for all of your finagling and hard work.  I love you guys all to the moon and back… and no RV, Range Rover, pony, sailboat, washer/dryer, cooking set, or bear hug from Drew Carey could even make me love you more.

To all of you thinking of going to The Price is Right?  Go.  It’s an experience for sure.  Just pack a backpack full of snacks and refreshments for the wait… and try not to act like an asshole.  😉

PS- Our episode airs June 1, 2015.  Look for the sea of Hawaiian shirts up front. 🙂

xoxo, pumpkins,

Gossip Girl

price is right

A Weekend of Weird… Part II of II [Saturday]

16 Dec 2013 Leave a comment

by CoJo in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

If you’ve read my posts since I’ve moved to San Diego, you’d have caught on by now that the house I live in is pretty much a revolving door of extra people (some random, some not), living in our extra living room, lovingly called “The Carport”  (its a renovated carport, now completely enclosed, but still with an outdoor porch light as it’s only form of lighting).

Our last Carporter, Brie stayed for about a month, in between her leases, and when her time here was coming to an end, another friend of the group, Smorgs realized he’d need somewhere to stay for about 3 weeks in between places… so exit Brie, and enter Smorgs.  At this point, after three dwellers down there, I actually think it will be weird when that room is empty.

Late last week, V informed us she was asked to bartend a company holiday party in LA on Saturday night.  A guy she knew from Chicago who had just moved here, was friends with the person coordinating the party, and she needed an extra bartender, so V agreed.  The party was for a production company in Hollywood.  I decided I wanted to go.  Smorgs decided he wanted to go too.  V told us we were absolutely not going.

Friday night was Girls Night Out (which Smorgs was obviously involved in, because when you live in the Carport, you’re one of the girls, no questions asked).  We told V (several times) that we were coming with her to LA in the morning.

“No you’re not.  And I’m leaving at 10.  You sleep til like 1 on the weekends.”

Notttt this weekend…. I let her know I’d be setting my alarm, and going with her.  And Smorgs was coming too.  V wasn’t having it.  Morning came.  I was up and about to hop in the shower.  V asked me what the hell I was doing.

“Going to LA.”

“Not with me.”

“Yes, we’re taking my car.”

“You can take your car.  I’m taking my car.”

“V, that’s really not good for the environment.”

She rolled her eyes.

I stuck my head in the Carport.  “Smorgs, are you coming to LA?”

He popped his head up out of his Aero bed.  “Yep.”

We got ready and threw some random clothing in the car.  We all packed black pants and white button downs because that’s what the bartenders had to wear.  Smorgs and I decided that one of our plans would be to go in with V and the other guy dressed as bartenders before the party started, then change into regular party clothes in the bathroom once we were in.  It was early, and we were rushed, so we didn’t bring any party clothes.  We decided we’d go shopping beforehand, since we were heading up super early and would have plenty of time before the party started.

V still didn’t believe us that we were coming to the party.  Or maybe she did, but she was just in denial.  We picked up her friend, Alex, whom we later found out is a complete Facebook whore, and had already status updated about us before even meeting us… calling us “tagalongs,” and saying the road trip would be “interesting.”  Hmmmpphhh….   We pulled up to his house around 10:30am, he came out to the car, opened the trunk and cheerily announced, “I brought Gatorades, Red Bulls, and snacks for all of us!”  Ohhh… well in that case…. We figured we’d really like Alex….

Alex was somethin’ else.  If there was a camera in that car, I think I’d replay it for all of my friends, because Alex is one of those people who you might not fully understand unless you met him.  I think there were several times I just sat there in silence, wondering if he actually just said what he just said.  He actually said it all.

We told him we were crashing the party, and I think he was confused.  He came up with a couple of ideas, but they didn’t seem like good ideas.  Most of them actually sounded like the worst ideas ever.  He said he could text the woman who was running it to ask if we could come, but if she said no, we were out.  We decided it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission, so we told him not to say anything.   We would figure out our own way in.  Alex was nervous we were going to get caught and then say we were with them.

“We’re not idiots.”

We didn’t know what security would be like.  We didn’t know what the dress code was.  We didn’t know the set-up of the venue, or if there was going to be a guest list.  We didn’t know anything other than that there was open bar, free valet, and that we were going.to.the.party.

In between Alex talking about threesomes with dudes and soaking with his ex-girlfriend… and confusion over who in the car was gay… we made a few stops along the way to LA.  We pit-stopped in Huntington Beach to walk around at a street fair, and Smorgs and I decided it would be a good idea to get matching gun Henna tattoos on our forearms.  Halfway through my gun, Wrinkley-Neck Henna Lady told us it’d last at least two weeks… and I remembered I wear scrubs to work.  Whoops.  #justlivinlife?

Our next stop was for lunch at a restaurant on the water in Malibu, where Alex kept exclaiming loudly, “We in DA BU!”  … I’m pretty sure I saw steam coming out of V’s ears somewhere in between Malibu and LA.  I was giggling on the inside, and thinking she was now pretty thankful we invited ourselves.

We arrived at the party location, which was at the actual production office.  We found out there would be 500 guests, so thought nothing of there being 502 instead.  It was 6pm and the party didn’t start til 8.  We followed V and Alex in to get a look around.  There weren’t really any people there yet, but we did meet the woman Alex knew who worked for the company and who was coordinating the event.  She was really friendly and nice… but Alex did not get us the invite.  He didn’t even try.

Fine.  Party crashing it would be.

I think even at this point, V didn’t think we were coming to the party.  As we were leaving, she said if we wanted to valet the car there, we could always take a taxi to bars in the area.  Smorgs and I just looked at each other.  We walked away and he said, “Why is she talking about taxis when we are going to this party?”

“I don’t know, but we are going to this party.”

We left V and Alex there, and googled the nearest mall, which was in Beverly Hills.  We started at Macy’s and tried to pick out appropriate outfits, not having any idea of what the dress code was.  Smorgs went with a pretty loud paisley button down, and I got a long-sleeved dress that was maybe a little shorter and tighter than my usual PB beach attire, and a pair of black heels (When in Rome?)

We changed in the mall parking deck.  Like IN the parking deck.  Next to the car.  Down to the undergarments.  We almost got away with it.  I think I had my dress completely on and was just pulling my pants from underneath when I heard the laughter of a large woman who had creeped up behind the car.  Oops.

We then stopped at CVS because Smorgs wore a hat all day and forgot hair gel.  Get with it, buddy.  My dress also smelled like a fat woman’s B.O, but it was the only one in my size so I was stuck with it.  I went to the body spray section and sprayed the crap out of myself with “Sensual Night.”  I figured it was an appropriate scent.  I didn’t even care what it smelled like.  I just didn’t want to smell like fat woman B.O.  Next was the body lotion section.  I started rubbing some on my arms and legs, and happened to glance over at the checkout where Smorgs was paying for his hair product as he turned to see me rubbing myself with lotion.

We ran outta there and I declared I felt like a homeless person in Beverly Hills.  We stopped at Chateau Marmont for a drink on our way back to the party which was just starting.  As soon as we walked in, we got caught by a bald man with hipster glasses who told us we were the most fashionable couple in there, and he wanted to have a threesome with us… except without Smorgs.  He continued on detailing his life, from his dates with horrible women to ultrasounds of his testicles.  He was really into Smorgs and his shirt, but then his gay friend piped in with “It looks like a paisley elf threw up on you.”  Rude.

Like can we go anywhere and do anything normal?  No.  But I’m now really upset we didn’t get his card, because he’s a member of the Magic Castle, and I definitely need to get in there… ugh…

Onward ho, it was party time.  How’d we crash it, you ask?  We pulled up to the valet, gave him the car key, and walked in.  That’s how.  Piece of cake.  Piece of crumb cake.

V made us promise to act like we didn’t know her.  We did a pretty good job.  Except she kinda shot herself in the foot by having a heavy pouring hand, because by the end of the night we were calling her Nessie and trying to set her up with the young hotties.  She wasn’t really too happy about that.  She thought we had bad taste.

The party was pretty sweet.  I wondered what kind of job I could have to work in an office like that.  We mingled, we tore up the dance floor, harrassed the DJ for more Britney, and used Christmas lights as outfit accessories.  So much for blending in.  I also may or may not have asked an old man if I could touch his beard  (he said yes… it was a good one).

At 2am, the party was wrapped and Alex drove us home.  Smorgs and I turned the backseat into a Meatloaf dance party for the first half of the trip home until we both crashed.  V had work in the morning and was the only one who did NOT fall asleep on the way back.  Well besides Alex… as far as I know.

I’ve had a few of experiences crashing parties/weddings, and I have to say this was the most successful.  We didn’t get kicked out OR end up in jail.  Everything else was bonus.

I think Saturday as a whole was one of my favorite days in a while.

Over and out for now, Pumpkins.

xoxo

Gossip Girl

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