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Palookaville

I’m bitter right now, and this is the worst kind of mood to blog in. You just come off as one those ranty, pissy, nothing-to-say types; it becomes a high school blog all of the sudden. At the same time, I’m feeling a bit of pressure because I haven’t posted in a long time. So, sorry in advance, but this is what you get.

There’s a contest going on right now, which officially starts tomorrow. It’s called Ultimate Blogger, and it’s pretty much a Survivor-style blog competition. Twice a week, the hosts give a challenge, the winner gains immunity, and someone gets voted out by the collected contestants—and after six weeks someone is crowned the Ultimate Blogger (said person also receives a decent pile of swag). Why am I bitter? The fuckers didn’t pick me.

I’m coming off as awfully entitled right now—and deservedly so—but it’s not quite as bad as it sounds. The folks at Urban Honking (the producers, if you will) said there were around three hundred applications submitted. Of those, here’s how I break it down in my head:
· Sixty of these applications said something to the effect of: “U have 2 pick me! Have 2 HAVE 2!!! I would be the *best* contestant evr cuz I’m SO cute :) and everyone luvz me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Squeeeeeeeeeeeee!” :) :) :) :)
· Twenty of these people are a thoughtful, interesting, diverse group of people who—God love ‘em—can’t spell to save their lives
· Fifteen of these people answered the application questions with dead seriousness and no imagination. Have you ever been in a fistfight? No. Dogs or cats? Neither. They make me puffy eyed, so no.

This leaves a little over two-hundred real contenders. With twelve spots in the line up, those are roughly one in sixteen odds—not too shabby. But, despite my solid application, I got the shaft. And I can’t get over how fucking bitter I am right now. For whatever reason, I thought it was a lock. I was actually planning next week around the time I’d have to set aside on challenge days.

This reminds me of my cousin Johny’s birthday party (his ninth, I’m guessing.) A group of us were playing Simon Says with the promise of a giant colouring book as prize. For whatever reason, I was sure that it would be mine; that we just had to go through the formalities first. Being seven and up against older contenders, I spazzed out, didn’t listen to Simon, and was the first one out. And I went mental—buried my face in the couch and wailed like my parents had just died. Not my best display of socially appropriate behavior, and I’ve felt appropriate levels of shame over it since, but in losing out on this blogging contest I feel almost exactly the same. I feel absolutely fucking robbed, man. Only now I cry less and swear more.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Also see: Dave Eggers, television show.
Jay said…
That is a heartbreaking story of loss and injustice. I'm pretty sure you'll have rebounded by tomorrow though. You know how the producers of Survivor can't actually pick 12 really cool people - they have to pick 3 big-breasted women, 3 fat men, 1 old guy (see, right there, 7 spots taken up that you weren't even elligible for), 1 skinny mean guy, 1 schemer, 1 dude with bad grammar and gross facial hair, and 1 gay guy who'll make the others uncomfortable.
Jay said…
Hey Dave, I just checked out their site, and it said the lucky contestants wouldn't be revealed until Monday morning...so what's up with that?
Dave said…
True that, but the lucky contestants have been notified by e-mail--at least that's what the comments appear to say.
Anonymous said…
Dave, I know how you feel. I get a touch of the same thing when I get back rejection notices from writing contests or agents. For example, I stick by my opinion that last year's big prize winner for the Toronto Star Short Story Contest wasn't as good as mine. Plain and simple. Still waiting to hear back about this year's results, though I've no doubt if I don't win again, it won't be because the winner is necessarily better but because the judges are clearly just blind to my sheer brilliance. Feh.

And given some of the tripe that's being shown in theatres these days, why at least some of my screenplays haven't gotten snapped up is beyond me. Karate Dog? I mean, for the love of Christ...

Methinks I just have to shout louder and send up more flares and see if that works at all. A bit difficult to get noticed amid the throng of others who claim the same thing of their own work (the misguided fools).

Your blog kicks ass. We regulars know it. And if others don't - even if they're self-proclaimed authority figures in such matters - it doesn't change that fact.

Getting attention is one thing. Being good is another. But getting attention for being good? Oh, aye... there's the trick. And as much as I may've cinched it for being the best lover ever, for writing it eludes me still.

Oh, fickle Fate... how you tease me so.
Anonymous said…
Reay. I called you the best lover ever once. Just once! Don't let it go to your head.

Davey boy, I, too was denied the Ultimate Blogger thing.

I don't think I expected to make it, though. I thought yours should have been in there, but Reay and Jay both have some good points.

The Ultimate Blogger list doesn't seems to follow a formula. And yours is definitely good. I am saying this with a voice apart from my "Thanks for being such a good friend that you zipped up my pants" voice (See my blog for the story, folks).

Aw yeah.
Selfless.
And yet selfish.

That's me.
Dave said…
Wow.

I mean, everyone was invited to my pity party, but I didn't really expect anyone to show.
Beth said…
I think that the true injustice is that Paul's blog was not chosen... of course, he never got around to entering 'cuz he was too busy playing with the magic stick.
Anonymous said…
Sometimes when I play with the magic stick I get distracted from stuff I should be doing, too.






... wait...
Anonymous said…
Reay, shouldn't that be "magic noodle"?
Jodie said…
Maybe you should sue!

Or maybe just threaten to sue. That'll teach 'em.

Hey, it works in the medical community.

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