It started out as a joke more than anything.
I was searching the casting notices as usual, being the average L.A. actress/singer/dancer, as I saw one for a reality show about searching for the next Pussycat Doll.
Now I, like any red-blooded American, love the Pussycat Dolls. I’d be lying if I didn’t say so. They’re hot, they’re amazing, and they have great stage presence.
But as a genuine performer… a singer/guitarist with an album out… would I really be on a reality show about being the new member of the pop group? It definitely wasn’t on my list of things to do.
I don’t want to sound pretentious. That’s the last thing I could possibly be. It’s just that there’s this stigma in Hollywood about using reality shows to get to the top. It just seems wrong to most of us. I suppose maybe we’re just used to the struggle.
Sometimes I think if we got over that, we might be famous by now. I mean, look at Kelly Clarkson. She was on American Idol and now she’s one of the most recognizable singers in the world.
Then there are the countless numbers of artists who say that show is nothing more than a karaoke contest.
In any case, I decided on a whim that I’d submit myself to the show. It was good for a laugh, if nothing else.
I didn’t really expect to hear anything. In fact, I’d pretty much forgotten about it.
Only a few days later, I received a phone call from someone who worked for the new CW show. She said she was “pre-screening” contestants, and that she wanted to hear me sing.
This call opened me up to not only another step in the audition process for The Pussycat Dolls, but additionally for the management company for whom this “middle-woman” worked. Of course, I was ecstatic. Not only had I stepped up in the land of the dolls, but someone along the way had requested to steal me away from the competition.
The woman with whom I was speaking told me she’d put me on her boss’ “exclusive list” for the audition they were holding that weekend in Los Angeles, and that I’d be seen before the girls who arrived for the open call.
I felt quite special, as I’m sure most girls would. I pictured about five or six girls who would be seen before the abundance of females who arrived without a preliminary audition over the phone.
I worked very hard on my routine. They specifically required two songs, one up-tempo and one relaxed, both with background music, and, of course, extensive dance routines. Oh, and they also required high heeled shoes.
I studied day and night. In my heels.
By the time Saturday arrived, I was ready. I had spent some time mixing together the background tracks for my songs, and I felt very confident. I designed a new outfit for the occasion and styled my hair and make-up perfectly for the event.
When I arrived, I quickly realized that I’d been a bit misled about the way the day had been planned. I asked around and met over one hundred girls who had also been promised to be on this exclusive list I’d heard so much about.
By the end of the first hour, I’d learned that we’d all been led in this sort of direction where we might be “special” in some way, because we’d been pre-screened.
In speaking with one another, we quickly learned that we’d been led astray, which resulted in many girls fleeing the pack. We must’ve lost between 20 and 40 girls at that point– maybe more. I certainly had my doubts about the program itself, but I stayed due to insatiable curiosity.
I quickly made friends with the girl in front of me by the name of Ginger. Ginger was a descendant of a rather famous comedian named Sam Kinison. Ginger was spunky, beautiful, and had an amazing voice.
“I’m going to sing Vanilla Ice,” she said with a gorgeous grin. I looked at her sparkly eyes and perfect confidence and said to myself, “This girl is going to make it.”
I knew I probably wasn’t what they were looking for. I sang more like Jewel, Sarah McLachlan, and Avril Lavigne, but the friendship I found with Ginger was enough to keep me there.
“You can’t go! I’ll be so bored,” she would say whenever I mentioned that I needed to get going.
Time wore on. Several girls stepped out for smoke break after smoke break.
“Cigarette smoker and SHE wants to be a Pussycat Doll?” I heard over and over again.
But the girl in question was dressed to the nines– a perfect image of a Pussycat Doll, from the fishnet tights to the knee-high boots, to the daisy duke jean shorts. She had the look they wanted.
Ginger and I stayed in our spot. We only ventured to buy bottles of water or the occasional snack. Both being actresses as well, we shared a common yearning for the days of craft services.
Eight hours later, we finally found our way to the judging room. Since the day had gone on so long, our auditions were cut to only one song… without background music.
Their excuse was that the media had taken up too much time capturing the event.
We shrugged off the long day of waiting and misinformation. We all ponied up to the audition– after all, this was Los Angeles, and nearly all of us were used to auditioning for someone new every day.
Ginger belted out her Vanilla Ice routine. She was spectacular.
I was right behind her. I took the microphone from her hand and said, “Wow. And I have to follow that?”
After a brief, probably forced, chuckle from Robin Antin and the others, I began my audition.
I performed “Ain’t No Sunshine” in my Broadway-trained voice, and I sang it with all my heart and soul. I knew it wasn’t right for their group, but I was proud of my work. I suppose I may have seemed more Pussycat Doll-friendly if I had performed my other song instead, which was “Toxic” by Britney Spears. Well, I knew that at the very least, they couldn’t make fun of my audition on their program as a reject (as American Idol tends to do).
After they dismissed me, I was disappointed. I think anyone would be… but I felt good about myself. Ginger was disqualified as well, despite her incredible talent and unquestionable allure.
I suppose the two of us will merely need to work that much harder to be noticed by the general populace. We can’t all get as far as Melissa Smith, Asia, Sisely, Mariela, Chelsea, or those other girls. But, hey, that’s okay. Don’t get me wrong… I think all these girls have incredible talent and deserve quite a bit of time in the spotlight. And I, like many others, am addicted to the show.
But getting back to those poor disqualified souls like myself… who often feel worthless…
The truth is, seeing someone as talented as Ginger being ignored makes me feels all the better about myself– in a very strange way.
I know that both of us will make it… someday.
The two of us parted ways with a hug, knowing we’d see each other soon. Two talented and driven girls wouldn’t be apart for long… that of which we were sure.
Ginger, I’ll see you soon… in the not-so-funny pages. 😉
