My Fair Lazy - Jen Lancaster [21]
Also? I rock the house at Scrabulous and can totally solve puzzles.43 And the plotting and the scheming and the cultivation of minions that goes along with Survivor game play? I mean, I was the rush chairman of my sorority—believe me, I can bully people into doing unpleasant shit. You think those kids wanted to cut literally thousands of stars out of aluminum foil?
The only problem could be that with my big, fat mouth, I may eventually get on other survivors’ nerves, especially when I keep crying about how bad my hair looks—unless we were in the desert, in which case I would be fabulous—so there’s a possibility I wouldn’t make it to the tribal merge, but who cares?
Yeah, I wrote back to the associate producer, I think I might be interested.
(Sidebar? Much as I’d like to be on television, I’d never want a reality show where cameras followed me in my everyday life because I like being married to Fletch. Seriously, look at the Hogans, Carmen and Dave, Nick and Jessica, the tattoo-necked guy and Miss USA, Britney and Kevin, Danny Bonaduce and his stupid wife, and the Osbournes. Everyone divorced!44 Okay, fine, Ozzy and Sharon made it, but their kids went to rehab!45 Try to give me my own TV show and I say no, no, no.)
The AP told me everything sounded good after a preliminary chat, but she said a New York-based executive producer needed to meet me before any decisions could be made. Then the EP and I went through all the machinations of getting together, but unfortunately his scouting trip to Chicago was too hectic, and at the last minute, we couldn’t coordinate.
My desire to see my enormous head on national cable television transcends most rational thought, so after our missed connection, I told him, “Hey, I’m going to be in New York next weekend with my girlfriends—why don’t we meet up while I’m there?” Seriously, I’m as crafty as Yau-man when he made that fake hidden-immunity idol on Survivor: Fiji or when Eval Dick spent the week terrorizing the Big Brother house and STILL got Eric to vote to keep him.
The producer agreed, which meant that I found myself scrambling for a ticket with a week’s notice and suddenly felt a tad less brilliant. As I clicked around Orbitz, I winced at the last-minute prices and was almost ready to give up when Fletch suggested I check our banking rewards points. I logged on and found we had enough saved up for a nonstop round-trip ticket. Victory!
“Aw, wait,” I said, remembering. “I can’t use these points.”
“Why not?” Fletch asked, reading over my shoulder. “I don’t see any restrictions or blackout dates.” Since apparently Fletch standing next to me constitutes a party, Maisy hopped off her couch and wedged her way under my desk. She perched her head on my knee and gazed up soulfully at me. I began to stroke her silky ears.
“Yeah, but if I waste these for a flight, then I won’t have enough to get the reward I really wanted. Check this out.” I pulled up the page and showed Fletch an image of a group of fit, attractive people in matching pink life vests careening through a deep canyon on a churning river. “See how much fun that blond family’s having on those rapids?”
He scanned the page. “You want to redeem award points for a trip to the Grand Canyon? Wow. Never thought I’d see you opt for an active vacation.” Whenever we’ve gone to Vegas, I’ve parked myself at the pool from ten a.m. until six p.m., taking every meal in my lawn chair and only getting up to swim and use the bathroom.46
“Oh, please, I don’t want the trip; I want the boat!”
Fletch squinted at the screen and then back at me. “What the hell are you going to do with a twelve-foot raft?”
“Pfft, white-water rafting, dude!”
Fletch drew in a really big breath and slowly released it through pursed lips, causing a little plume of dust to fly up off my desk and onto Maisy’s sweet head. I brushed it away, prompting her to give my knees a thorough licking. “You have any idea how to operate a white-water raft?”
“I’m