4th Time’s A Charm!

In case you didn’t already know:

I’m destined for super-stardom!

I mean, it’s pretty obvious.

People have told me so my whole life!

Yes, I know you are all laughing at me now, but I will show you one day!

I will have the last laugh.

On my mission to conquer the world, I have given the “out of reach” my best shot and I have continually failed, miserably.

It’s pretty much been happening my entire life.

It hasn’t stopped me!

Lets just focus on this years failures.

Failure #1: I’m going to be a Celebrity Hair Stylist.

I was at work, minding my own business when it happened.

My boss walked into the salon.

“*****, I just received a phone call from our hair product representative. There is a color class at the Montage tonight. It’s a private class at the Kim Vo salon, they have an extra ticket, do you want to go?”

I hadn’t had any education on this particular product line yet. I was new to this salon, so, I went.

I arrived to the beautiful resort,  valet parked and made my way through the enormous court yard and into the spa. Once inside I was directed to the salon. Everything was crisp white and clean. The view overlooked the Pacific Ocean.

Ahhhh…heaven.

I took a seat and waited for the class to begin. They were serving complimentary wine but I declined, I actually wanted to learn something.

Then it happened.

Kim Vo, himself, came in. He was to be teaching the class.

Good job, Salon Boss!

Was this meant to be or what?!

I thought I was just getting some product knowledge and a few color tips, not a full on, three hour class with a celebrity stylist!

SCORE!

So, I sat through the class,  absorbed all that I could and stayed the hell away from the wine.

I devised a plan.

Once the class ended, Kim Vo was taking pictures with everyone. I stayed seated and I waited until the last person was leaving.

Thats when I did it.

I walked right up to Mr. Vo and I asked him for a job.

“You can look online and apply that way.” He said.

I thanked him.

Disappointed, I started to walk away.

He stopped me.

“Come back. Wait a second. Call Brad at the other salon tomorrow. Tell Brad at I sent you in from tonights class. Thats better.That will ensure you an interview.”

“Thank you so much!” I said.

I was in!

For an interview anyway.

My eyes were twinkling. This was it, this was my big shot! What I had been waiting for.

The next day I called Brad.

He scheduled me AN INTERVIEW!

I was so excited! I am amazing at interviews AND I’m an even better hairstylist.

True.

Story.

The day came, I drove my ass that thirty miles to the salon.

I had my interview with Brad.

Guess what!

Brad loved me!

As a matter of fact he placed me in a salon and gave me a schedule and everything. I just had to bring in a model and prove my worth. Brad would call me the next day to set up a time.

I drove home, called all my girlfriends who were due for colors. I easily found a model.

Then, I waited.

Brad never called. I tried calling him. I never got through, I left several messages.

I emailed.

Nothing.

I never heard from him again.

A few months later Kim Vo’s hair care line was discontinued.

Failure #2: I’m going to be a Playboy Model

When I left my marriage to Beans, I was a fat ass. I was almost 190 lbs.

*Here I am pregnant with my second child. I topped the scale at 219 the day I gave birth.*

I decided to start walking. I walked and I walked. I was like Forrest Gump! The more I walked, the better I looked. Soon, I started running.

I needed a goal.

I decided my goal was to hit 125 lbs (lose 65 lbs if you can’t do the math) and pose for Playboy.

I researched.

Turned out, Playboy gave you six prints of your photo shoot (for a small fee) regardless if you made the magazine or not. I was going to take one of those prints and have it made into a t-shirt, for Beans, my ex husband.

The caption would read,

“My X Wife Posed For Playboy!”

Perfect revenge, right?

I didn’t expect to get in the magazine, but I was hoping.

At 31, I was at the very top of the age bracket. 32 was the oldest non-celebrity to pose. I have a ton of stretch marks from pregnancy, but has anyone seen the ones Anna Nicole Smith had air brushed out? I had already had a boob job. Of course, they are a bit rippled, again, air brush.

I spent countless hours studying all the girls in all the categories.

I decided that I was way hotter than a lot of those bitches in the House Wife section.

Plus, I’m funny.

My dream was to be a bunny at the Playboy Comedy Club.

Regardless, I’d get the revenge pics.

Win/Win!

So, I did what any delusional, attention starved, divorcee would do.

I booked an appointment at a Playboy Casting Call and talked my much younger friend, Carol, into going with me.

The day finally came.

I weighed 126 lbs.

*About to leave for the shoot*

We arrived, signed in and were seated. They had us change into the lingerie we brought and cover up with a playboy robe.

I grabbed hot pink!

It smelled.

Who cares?!

I WAS POSING FOR PLAYBOY!

We were called in one at a time.

Carol went first.

I waited on a bench in the hallway behind her.

I was next.

While I was sitting there in my slut suit, shivering, something exciting happened!

One of the recruiters approached me.

An interview!

They only interview the candidates they think have a shot.

I told her Jenny Mc Carthy was my idol.

She said she could place me in a few different categories, House Wives AND Big Breasts!

Then it was my turn.

I walked in the room with the photographer confident and excited.

I pulled off my robe and was  directed to pose when it happened.

*This is was the outfit I posed in that day*

I lost my nerve.

No I didn’t back out, I wanted this!

I had an anxiety attack!

I started shaking. My face twisted into that scary wedding face again!

I knew I should have taken a xanax!

Damn it.

No matter, I would still get my revenge pics!

Not a total loss.

Once the shoot wrapped up, I went back to the changing room and dressed. I returned the musty robe.

I walked up to the front counter and asked the girl at the desk how to go about retrieving my photos.

She told me I couldn’t.

Turns out Playboy no longer offers them. I begged for them anyway to no avail.

“You don’t understand! I need these photos! They are for revenge!”

She just laughed at me and offered me a t-shirt.

For $18.

I paid for it.

Then, I went home and waited.

For three months.

You see, playboy won’t call you if you dont make it. If you haven’t gotten the call in 12 weeks you are SOL.

Now, I can’t say if it was my nerves, stretch marks or botched boob job but the call never came.

Not long after, I heard that the Playboy Comedy Club was closing down.

Failure #3: Hot Mom Contest

When I heard the announcement on the radio I knew this one was for me!

I may not be 22 anymore like Playboy wanted but I am a damn, hot mom!

I decided to go to the mall and have photos taken.

Ok, they were portraits. At the portrait studio.

I’m a goon.

I lied to the young girl working there. I told her I needed them for work!

Ha Ha Ha!

That night I submitted one online. Along with the picture, I sent a short, sob story I wrote (pretending to be my five year old son) on why I felt that “my mommy” deserved to win.

Next, I needed votes.

In order for someone to vote for me they had to be registered on the website of the radio station. Each person could vote once a day for two weeks.

It was a pain in the ass.

I bugged everyone I knew. I posted the link on facebook. Next, I texted everyone in my phone. I sent out mass emails and solicited votes from all my co-workers repeatedly.

People didn’t like this.

Two relatives even told me off.

Everyone seemed to be having a hard time registering and remembering to vote. They were tired of being stalked by me on a daily basis so I offered to do the dirty work for them. I had a huge list of over 80 email addresses I had collected and was using to vote with every day.

I was going to win this!

I went down to the Lit Fart and asked Brutus for help. This was before I let him stick his salty, Jew dog in my bum. Brutus was still trying to impress me. He invited me in on comedy night. Brutus had the announcer take me on stage and announce the contest. After the show, Brutus even let me stand at the door with my Ipad to collect votes from people as they were leaving the venue.

That guy wasn’t all bad!

I hand made hundreds of flyers and handed them out at bars and night clubs for two weeks. I kept my Ipad (OK, grandma’s Ipad!) on me at all times. I found it easier to force people to sign up right there. Most couldn’t be trusted to  remember to finish filling out the registration at home.

Especially if they were drunk.

I worked damn hard to win.

I wanted that free trip to Jamaica!

Plus, the radio station would give me air time and I could talk about how I didn’t make Playboy. Playboy might hear it, Hugh Hefner would have to give me a chance then!

This could be big.

The final night of the contest came. I made sure to get in all my votes.

Then, I waited.

I really had a shot at winning! This contest was designed with me in  mind!

I had a tons of votes.

Plus, the other contestants had nothing on me looks wise. Well, except maybe that one chick with the big, fake tits and tiny bikini.

The next morning came.

I heard nothing.

I checked my email.

Still nothing.

I didn’t win.

I didn’t even make it in the top three. Not only that but the website never posted a picture of the girl who did win.

I never got to see the ugly skank that probably blew her way to Jamaica.

ISN’T THIS SO SAD?

I have now trapped you.

If you are a woman you are empathetic to my stories. You relate to me.

You want to help me!

If you are a man you are thinking about seeing me naked right now. Oh, I want to show you!

In Playboy.

If you are a gay man, you HATE Kim Vo! How dare he do this to me.

Fuck him! You will help me.

This is totally like that time when everyone saved Tinker Bell with the hand clapping! You have the power to save me!

With mouse clicking.

That’s right!

Share this piece of shit blog with every screwed up person you know as so I can become a famous writer, comedian, model, actress, celebrity hair stylist who can afford to go on a vacation!

I can’t continue picking toes for pennies at the spa anymore! It’s horrible and I hate it, but thats another story.

Lets get this link passed around like it’s a bad breakout of mutant herpes!

*Shutters*

If you don’t, I will die.