1st Place, 2009: “A Nice, Wholesome Family Show” © Moira Williams, Dana
my reality show! My husband Rob and I are adopting a baby and the
kind producers at All About Babies network, where the programs range
from showing complicated births, babies who try to tap dance their
way out, babies with three arms (What do they do with the third arm?
Tuck it to the side like they’re cannoning down a water slide? Watch
to find out!), etc., to babies toilet training (They poo themselves
in the cutest of places!), have contracted with us for a two-man
camera crew to track our journey. And pay us $10,000 per episode
aired. I read that the Octomom had four camera guys and $20,000 per
episode, but who’s complaining? On with the show!
Did I say my
husband’s name is Rob? Freudian slip. Rob is our Schnauzer. I adore
Rob. He gives me sticky, wet kisses. When my husband Roy gives me
sticky, wet kisses, it’s because he has raspberry jelly on his face.
I told him the camera adds ten pounds. Does he want to look like
John Gosselin? Like he’s smuggling bags of mini-marshmallows under
his clothing? When we were married, he had sultry, greasy, long
locks of hair, like a pirate, a sexy Viking pirate. Later, we found
out he was infertile. Our religions dictates I cannot sleep with his
hot brother to get pregnant, so we’re trying this.
There is a twist
to the show. Roy, Rob and I are dropped onto an island, and we must
compete in a number of challenges to win the African baby Jeff
Probst has hidden somewhere on the island. You will love the first
episode. Heidi Klum challenges us to make baby booties, diapers and
“onesies” out of leaves and branches. Then, an evil adoption officer
named Simon Cowell makes us perform Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face.” Can
dyslexic Roy learn the words in time? Can Rob the Schnauzer do up
tempo modern? Is Simon Cowell allergic to monkeys? Tune in to find
Have I been saying
Roy? My husband’s name is Ray. Roy is his hot brother. With short
hair, Ray looks like a eunuch.
Reality TV isn’t
all margaritas and flirting with the camera guy, who looks like your
husband’s hot brother. Life on reality TV can be hard, because it’s
even more real than real life, because it’s on TV. Sometimes, I was
hungry, lonely and bored. When this happened, I would convince Rob
the Schnauzer and a few members of the production crew to hike the
quarter mile to the nearest village, where we bartered Power Bars
and Gatorade for cornmeal and oranges. Once, I traded my only shirt
for a nice, hot plate of spinach. The crew would get ground Boo Brim
leaf. When I first heard of it, I thought Heidi Klum was trying to
speak English, but then they told me that Boo Brim is a natural
stimulant, aphrodisiac, drain cleaner, teeth whitener and deodorant.
Rob the Schnauzer ate some and started singing like Rosemary
I did not try any
but if I had, I would have described it as tasting like Cocoa Puffs,
if Cocoa Puffs were made by the sexy Nordic Viking pirates I dream
about. That night, I climbed all over Ray like a mermaid, a hot
mermaid princess fleeing her father who is forcing her into joining
the family chorus. I might have had a little trouble finding Ray in
the dark, though.
I will just tell
you about the last episode, since there was a completely accidental,
unfortunate incident, where I tripped over a Baobab root and landed
with my hands on a cameraman’s bare, er, trunk, and with pending
litigation, the footage can’t be aired on national TV. But have you
seen a Baobab root? Totally an occupational hazard.
Ray, Rob and I
ballroom dance our way through an obstacle course, partnered with
Hamid Karzai, Kim Jong Il of North Korea and Bo, the Portuguese
water dog. Our prize is not one but 37 ½ babies. My maternal muscle
spasms and I crouch over until I can stand straight again. Rob the
Schnauzer howls, “Fly Me to the Moon.”
Now, our extended
reality show, Lisa, Ray, Rob the Schnauzer, Ray’s Hot Brother and
Millions of Babies is coming into your house. Welcome to the
family. You’ll fall in love with Ray. He grew his hair out and looks
just like a sexy Viking pirate.
2nd Place, 2009:
“Meet for Coffee?” © Scott Erickson, Portland, OR
Silver Porsche Carrera
You: 30s, Armani
suit, aviators, killer smile, behind the wheel of that awesome car.
Me: Brunette, possessions in shopping cart, offered to clean your
windshield for five dollars. I can think of lots of things to do
that are more fun than dumpster diving. Meet for coffee? #806781
green dress, a little wasted. We talked about our shared interest in
old, silent movies. You: Tall, green “Jameson” t-shirt, told me I
was cute, got me pregnant. Would love to meet again to discuss
favorite movies and wedding arrangements. Meet for coffee? We can
also discuss cloth diapers versus disposables. #806781
sweater, sassy. Me: Cowboy boots, Buddy Holly style glasses. I
showed you my rash, explained how my liver works. Where’d you go?
That number you gave me was for Taco Bell. Meet for coffee? P.S.—I
can whistle through my nose. #806781
Safeway Parking Lot
Redheaded guy riding blue, Fuji bicycle. You: Brunette, driving blue
SUV who ran me over. Before losing consciousness, I noticed your
nice smile and your license number. I’ve retained a lawyer. Meet for
coffee? Bring your checkbook. #806781
delivery. I was lounging around in skimpy, red underwear when you
showed up at the door. I asked, “Do you have something big and hot
and delicious for me?” You answered, “Large veggie. That’s be $35.”
I don’t think you understand how this is supposed to work. Meet for
coffee? I’ll bring some videos. #806781
Cute Blonde on
I saw you
biking along the esplanade Saturday morning. We exchanged smiles. I
spent the rest of the day kicking myself for not asking you out.
Then, I spent the evening throwing myself against a concrete wall.
Next day, I put my car into gear and threw myself under the wheels.
Let’s get together soon before I do some serious damage. Meet for
I was on a
horrible first date at the sushi restaurant. You came over and saved
me from the creep. Said you would take care of everything—and you
did! The body was never found. If you don’t get arrested, meet for
Me: Teal sweater.
You: Low-cut black dress. We were standing in line for popcorn. Then
you caught my eye. Thanks for returning it. The glass one falls out
easily. Meet for coffee? #806781
Your first child is
a beautiful baby boy with wisps of blonde hair. I was dressed in
white, delivering your baby. Thought it was not the best time to ask
for your number. Couldn’t help noticing there was no “Dad” present.
Meet for coffee? #806781
B & N’s Wedding Reception
You had thick red
hair. I was the guy who told you the joke about penguins. I was
lighting your cigarette but got distracted. Wanted to ask for your
number but your head was on fire. Meet for coffee? I’ll bring burn
That’s what you
said when your friend Michael introduced us at the housewarming
party. That’s also what you said when I commented on your tattoo.
That’s also what you said when I mentioned that I like Golden
Retrievers. You don’t have much of a vocabulary but you’re pretty
damn hot. Let’s skip the coffee and get down to it. Just don’t use
that word when we’re finished, okay? #806781
I Like Your Financials
We work at the same
Fortune 100 corporation. You gave the end-of-quarter PowerPoint
presentation, and when you stressed the importance of a hard
response to a soft market, I thought I was going to climax right
there. Let’s get together. I’ll give you a good return on your
investment, guaranteed to make your market share rise. Or we could
just have sex. Meet for coffee? Bring your PowerPoint. #806781
Crowded #14 Bus
I said you were the
loveliest woman I’d ever seen. You gave me the most incredible
smile, which took my breath away. Then, my breath never came back
and I died. Since you killed me, I figure you at least owe me a
date. Meet at Hillcrest Cemetary for coffee? I’m flexible regarding
beverage, but we pretty much have to meet at my place.