Raw Deal...

If you 'know' me at all outside of this blog, you undoubtedly have heard me mention more than once my brush with the Canadian version of Deal or No Deal. I was one of those 115,000 Canucks that applied to be a contestant on the show. I somehow stumbled through three phone auditions, and the producers working on the Great White North edition decided that I was to be one of the lucky few brought in for a real, live audition.

So on December 5 of last year, I did my hair all straight and pretty, dressed up as though I was getting ready for my own personal Howiepalozza, grabbed my stuffed gorilla (will explain later), and headed down the the Royal York. At 7:30 in the morning.

Since by now you have more than an inkling as to how I feel about that time of day, you can imagine the challenge to be upbeat and perky for producers who would decide my fate. But I managed, knowing a lot was on the proverbial line....I could always crash later. When I got to work.

Now when you audition for this show, you're asked to bring your supporters with you. Guess it's not enough for them to judge you - you have to submit your friends, family members and spouse to be scrutinized as well. Lucky them! So Hubs and I hooked up with CJ and my sister early that morning, and took the elevator upstairs to await our fate.

Almost needless to say, my ragtag crew and I didn't make the cut, but we sure did have fun trying. They made you come with a one minute cheer or song and we had a pretty good time bastardizing Gwen's Hollaback Girl, turning it into I Ain't No Take The Deal Girl. Clever, eh? I sure thought so. As did Chip and Barbie, our panel of judges at the audition. But it simply wasn't enough. Sigh...

The question that continually tripped me up and, I believe, was the key to my undoing, was as follows: What makes you uniquely Canadian? Uh...whut? How is one supposed to answer that, I mean really? Well, I really like Canada, a lot, I'm very patriotic, but in the end, I don't think there's all that much that separates me from other Canadians, and that's the great thing about this show. You don't have to be brilliant, hell, you don't even have to know the price of soup. Anyone can play this game, but the people you really get behind are the ones that have outgoing, fantastic personalities. And I kinda thought that was me. I believed then and do today, that I'd be one of those folk people could really root for. No delusions of grandeur here ;).

After we did our little song and dance and answered all their questions, they shuffled us off to another room where we were to play a fake version of the game. They videotaped the entire thing (man, would I LOVE to get my hands on that tape, just to see how insane I looked) - and there was nothing intimidating about that! Yeesh. Actually, I was surprised at how quickly I forgot it was even there. Until I felt it necessary to ham it up every once in a while. Come on, every diva needs a few minutes of camera time!

They asked if I had a strategy for choosing my cases to which I simply replied no, I went with my gut. Then I propped Oo Oo (the aforementioned stuffed gorilla, my 'lucky charm') on the fake podium, and prepared to select my cases.

Going on gut, I went with number 18, and the game was on! Case after case I chose, and the offers just kept going up and up and up. It felt so unbelievably real, not to mention fantastic since that horseshoe up my ass really came through for me. By the end of it, I walked away with a 'deal' of $590,000, the highest of any person auditioning in Canada to date. But miracle of miracles (not that this one actually counted for anything), I had selected the million dollar case!!!!!

You should have seen my face when they virtually opened that case (we were playing along with the DVD - good times, I highly recommend it). Unreal! In my head I'd already spent a large portion of the $590,000 I'd 'won', especially since we'd put a successful offer in on a house the day before the audition. Oh hell yeah...in my head we had the house and were already sitting on a beach in Bora Bora with no one but us (and our cabin boy - someone had to make the pina coladas) for miles.

We all walked out feeling like we'd had a fantastic experience, and the whole thing was a lot of fun no matter what happened.

Yes, this is the attitude I chose to adopt, because at that point there was nothing more I could do. They'd either choose me, or not. Rather simple, and entirely out of my hands.

And apparently, they chose not. Alas. I worked really hard at not being disappointed about the outcome, and for the longest time it worked. The week they were taping was going to be a busy one at work, and it was good now that I didn't have to take an entire week off. Hubs is still relatively new at his job, so being away from the office is even more challenging for him. Etc etc etc.

I was doing really well, honestly I was. I didn't take it personally - I just figured that they were looking for iconic 'Canadians', and while I may be fabulous, there's not much iconic about me.

I was fine until tonight.

Did ya see the show? I mean really? Yep, I was fine until I saw the people that got to play in my stead. A firefighter for CFB something? Yep, guess that's Canadian enough. Too bad I didn't really care either way what happened to him and/or that he wasn't all that excited to be there. Humph.

Then there's CRAAAAZY Mountie chick. Bubbly? Hell yeah. A little too much like Mary Catherine Gallager in Superstar? Uh...yeah. As I watched I expected her to suddenly thrust her hands into her armpits, then just as abruptly bring them to her nose for a little sniff. Eek....

Poor mini Mountie has had a rough go of it thus far. She's knocked off some large amounts, and do I think there's a chance in hell she'll come anywhere close to my $590,000 banker's offer? To paraphrase the Magic 8 Ball, all signs point to no.

So now I'm kinda ticked, and saddened. A smidge. I'll get over it, but man, seeing the whole thing come together and me not standing there? Ouchie. Stings a wee bit. So what if I'm not a firefighter or a mountie? I'm a diva, dammit - doesn't that count for anything?

I'll keep watching - glutton for punishment, I suppose. Mostly I wanna see who they chose over me, and the countless others out there that were totally jonesin' to make it to the final round. They chose to go the No Diva route...and now I'll never get the chance to tell the banker off.

Unlesssssss...maybe I'll put a dig in tomorrow as we close the house. After I've signed all the documents, of course. I'm many things, but stupid ain't one of them.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?