As Seen on TV (27 page)

Y
ou groan and throw your sweatshirt at the television. “The Ultimate Party Girl?” you scream in disbelief. “What is the Ultimate Party Girl?”

“Is that my sweatshirt?” your roommate asks as it falls on the floor.

“Whoops.” You give her a big sheepish smile.

Switch.

Erin blow-drying her hair.

“Of course I’m going to win. Why wouldn’t I win? I am the Ultimate Party Girl. The other girls can’t party like I party. They’re all a bunch of BEEEP.”

“Why does she swear so much? It’s so not classy,” your roommate says.

Switch.

Brittany applying her lipstick.

“So far I’ve had the most incredible experiences on this
show. I love it. The important thing isn’t who wins, but what we’ve learned.”

You groan again. “What could she have learned? She’s always too drunk to remember anything.”

Switch.

The four girls stand in a row, facing the camera. Michelle is in tight jeans, a tank top and stiletto shoes, Erin in black leather pants, a tube top, a beaded choker and stiletto boots, Brittany in a wraparound red dress and knee-high stiletto boots, and Sunny in boot-cut black pants, a red camisole top and…why is she so short? Oh, she’s wearing running shoes.

Since when does she wear running shoes to a bar?

The four contestants are in the center of the dance floor. The camera pans to the bar’s patrons, who are either standing around the girls or observing them from the second-level balcony. The four stars have tight smiles plastered on their faces.

Standing on a ministage, holding a microphone and leering at the camera is a guy in a pinstriped suit with a glittery black shirt. “Welcome, everyone, to the first round of the
Party Girls
Competition!” he says.

The crowd goes wild.

“I’m Howard Brown, the producer of this quality show.”

“WOHOO!” the crowd shouts.

“First up, we will be dividing the four wild and crazy single girls into two teams. The fun begins when we get to watch these gorgeous ladies compete for the ultimate title—”

“Most Pathetic?” you offer and crack up.

“—New York’s Ultimate Party Girl!”

You ask, “Do you think she’ll get a crown? I’ve always wanted a crown.”

Your roommate says, “A sash, maybe.”

Howard rubs his hands together, excitedly. “On the yellow team, we have—” loud clichéd drumroll “—Brittany and Erin!”

Brittany and Erin regard each other warily.

“OH YEAH!” the crowd shouts.

Your roommate asks, “Why would they pick yellow? Yuck.”

“On Team Two, the pink team, we have Michelle and Sunny.”

Michelle and Sunny hug.

“WOHOO!” the crowd shouts.

Your roommate asks, “Pink? Why pink?”

“It’s girly,” you offer.

“But Sunny’s wearing red. That so doesn’t go. They should have called the teams big boobs versus small boobs.”

A gorgeous tall, broad male (must be a model) carries out four sashes, two in yellow and two in pink. He drapes the proper colors over the torsos of the various girls.

Your roommate says, “Look, sashes! I was right!”

Switch.

Howard is pacing across the stage, microphone still in hand. “Today’s competition is a relay race,
Party Girls
style. The first team to reach the finish line will get to vote someone off from the other tribe…I mean, team.”

Switch.

Confused girls’ faces.

Switch.

Male model and friend (must be another model) demonstrate the race. They begin alongside a giant four-foot-high martini glass.

Howard narrates the male models’ exhibition: “There are two pieces of bubble gum at the base of each glass, inside each huge Cosmopolitan. Each runner has to find and pick up a piece—no hands, use your mouths only—then blow a bubble and hold it for at least five seconds. Only then can the second team member go. After both members have blown bubbles, it’s time for Task Two. You each must spin around the baseball bat twenty times.” One of the models holds a baseball bat by the handle, puts the other end on the floor, pastes his forehead against the handle, and then revolves in a circle around the bat.

“Omigod,” your roommate shrieks. “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. What is he doing?”

Howard continues: “Once the first person has completed the spinning task, she must run across the dance floor to the bar
tender. The bartender will then give her a shot of vodka. After she’s done the shot, the second member of the team will start the spinning, also twenty times, then run across the bar and do the shot. Once the second team member has completed this task the two girls will wheelbarrow back to the finish line. First team there wins the relay race.” One of the male models is in push-up position, palms of his hands on the floor, while the second model grips his legs at his waist. They scurry to the white-roped finish line.

Switch.

The four girls’ mouths are wide open in shock, all attempts at their fake smiles abandoned. They all look utterly appalled.

You and your roommate can’t stop laughing.

“
Party Girls
will be right back after these messages.”

Switch.

Sunny is walking to the bathroom, a sweater tied around her waist.

“Don’t let this happen to you,” a high-pitched teenager’s voice says. “Wear Purity tampons.”

Your roommate suddenly brightens. “Hey, I just remembered. I have a bottle of Zinfandel. Maybe we should get in the spirit.”

“Sounds good,” you say. “Wanna play a drinking game?”

She pulls an oversized bottle out of the fridge (obviously purchased with a romantic encounter in mind) and places it and two Hard Rock Café shot glasses onto the coffee table.

“We should each pick a team,” you say.

“I call Brittany and Erin! I want to support my bigger-breasted sisters.”

“Fine. Okay, every time Sunny and Michelle screw up—fall, puke, swear, whatever—I have to drink. And every time Erin and Brittany screw up, you drink.”

“Sounds fun.” She fills your shot glasses with the pink liquid. “Hey, no fair, we’re drinking your team colors.”

Switch.

The girls are in position, hovering above their respective cocktail glasses, hands behind their backs. “On your mark,”
Howard says, “get set, go!” Sunny and Erin dunk their heads in the giant glasses.

You scream, “Come on, Sunny!”

Your roommate screams, “Find that gum, Erin!”

The camera zooms up against Sunny’s martini glass. Her eyes are shut tight and her tongue is rolling like a French kiss gone mad.

“What’s wrong with her? The two pieces are right there!” you scream. “Why doesn’t she just grab one of them with her teeth?”

Sunny swallows a mouthful, appears to be choking, jerks her head out of the liquid and starts coughing, Cosmopolitan spluttering like volcano lava.

Your roommate jabs your shoulder. “Drink up.”

You grumble and drink. Erin and Brittany are going to win. Big-breasted women get everything, don’t they?

Sunny plunges back in.

Switch.

Erin, eyes shut and mouth open like she’s screaming, bites into a piece of gum. Jaw clenched, she springs from the Cosmo, hair flapping backward like she’s on
Baywatch,
sending a spray of pink in an arc behind her. She starts chewing. Brittany lurches toward the martini glass, hands behind her back, ready to dive in.

Your roommate and the crowd shout, “WOHOO!”

What’s Sunny’s problem? Dammit, find the gum! “The glass is in a V-shape, what’s so difficult? She just has to go straight to the bottom!”

Switch.

Erin is chewing, chewing…bubble attempt, no, too wet, chewing, chewing…

Yikes. Erin has terrible skin. Why didn’t she use waterproof foundation? What was formerly known as black mascara now looks like smeared crayon under her eyes.

Switch.

And…she has it! Sunny has the gum! She’s swallowed half the glass of Cosmopolitan, but she has the gum. She sweeps
her head out of the alcohol and starts chewing. Her hair is in a tight bun, and the top half of her shirt is soaked. Chewing, chewing, chewing. Her cheeks are filling with air. She’s getting ready to blow…

Switch.

A bubble emerges from Erin’s lips.

The crowd screams, “TWO…THREE…FOUR…FIVE!”

Pop.

The crowd and your roommate cheer.

Brittany plunges into the martini glass.

Switch.

Sunny blows a bubble.

“ONE…TWO…”

Pop.

Your roommate laughs. “Drink again.”

You down another shot.

Switch.

Brittany bites into her piece of gum.

Switch.

Sunny blows and blows. Michelle is perched over the glass, waiting, watching.

“TWO…THREE…FOUR…FIVE!” You and the crowd scream.

Michelle dives in.

Switch.

Brittany chomps on her gum.

Switch.

Michelle smacks her forehead against the side of the glass.

Ouch. You take another drink.

Switch.

Brittany blows and blows, and holds a bubble above her head like a lightbulb. Erin has the bat in hand, ready to spin.

“TWO…THREE…FOUR…FIVE!”

The crowd and your roommate cheer.

Erin starts spinning.

Switch.

Michelle has the gum, and she’s blowing! Sunny’s baseball bat is up, ready to go. And there it is! There’s the bubble!

“ONE…TWO…THREE…FOUR…FIVE!” Yes!

Sunny starts spinning.

Switch.

“…NINETEEN…TWENTY!” Erin drops the bat and attempts to walk forward, toward the bar. Instead of walking straight, she swerves all the way right toward the crowd.

Your roommate screams, “What’s wrong with her? What’s she doing?”

Erin looks confused. She can’t figure out why her body isn’t working the way it’s supposed to. She tries to walk straight, but keeps veering right. She stumbles on her heels and falls on her behind.

Your roommate’s turn to drink. “Shoot it, baby.” She swallows and slams the glass onto the table. “Finally.”

“Why finally? You were winning.”

“I want to get drunk, too, you know.”

Switch.

Sunny’s still rotating counterclockwise, but then suddenly she stops, pauses, and then spins four times clockwise.

Brilliant. Just brilliant. She’s stabilizing herself.

Switch.

Erin’s up and standing and…down again.

Your roommate drinks.

Switch.

Dropping the bat, Sunny sprints straight to the bar. She grabs her shot and downs it in one gulp.

“Take it home, Michelle!” you scream. Michelle starts spinning.

The pink team is in the lead.

Switch.

Face creased in determination, Erin lifts herself up and sprints toward the bar. She seizes her shot and downs it. Then she topples over. Brittany starts revolving, but she’s moving very slowly.

“ONE…TWO…THREEEEEEEEEEEEE…”

“It’s not fair!” your roommate whines. “She’s too tall. She has to bend more than the other girls do. Someone should give her a taller bat.”

Switch.

“…SIXTEEN…”

Michelle uses Sunny’s clockwise/counterclockwise trick and finishes off her last four spins. She discards the bat, veers a bit to the right but manages to make it to the bar without falling. She downs the shot.

Switch.

“…NINETEEN…TWENTY!” Brittany drops her bat and makes a run for the bar. Unfortunately she didn’t use the pink team’s anti-dizzying technique and staggers, then falls face-first onto the shiny floor, after sliding about two feet.

Switch.

Michelle gets on her hands and knees. Sunny stands behind her and picks up her legs. Good thing she’s wearing sneakers. Michelle and Sunny are now in wheelbarrow position, jostling toward the finish line.

Switch.

After a few spills Brittany reaches the bar and drinks. Then she assumes the push-up position and Erin secures her teammate’s legs by the ankles. They’ve only taken two steps when Brittany falls, splat, right on her chest.

“It’s not fair, her boobs are a disability. They’re weighing her down. They’re weighing my whole team down.”

Wah, wah, wah.

Switch.

Sunny and Michelle trip.

“Drink up!”

Switch.

Erin and Brittany wheelbarrowing.

Switch.

Michelle and Sunny scrambling back into position.

The screen is split in half by a thick white line, showing the determined faces of both teams: eyes intense and squinting, jaws clenched and tight. You can’t tell who’s ahead.

You and your roommate are on your feet, cheering, hands waving. Pink, pink, pink, pink! Yellow, yellow, yellow!

Switch.

Ad for Stark’s Department Store.

You both take a seat. Commercials totally ruin the tension. Why do they always put them at the best parts?

Your roommate burps. “I think I’m drunk.”

The massive bottle is more than half empty. “I think I am, too. Do you want dessert?”

“What do we have?”

“I have some cookie dough ice cream.”

“But I’m not depressed,” she says. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Maybe
I’m
depressed. I still can’t believe Fuckhead didn’t call. Is there even a minute possibility that he lost my number?”