When my ex-boyfriend and I broke up, I tried so so so frickin’ hard to sit there and think about how it is NOT the end of the world to be single again at my age. I mean, at first I really was upset. Especially since I lived with this guy and honestly thought I would be with him for the rest of my life (lol).
BUT THEN OUT OF THE DEPTHS OF MY FAILED RELATIONSHIP, a light had been lit.
An eye had been lined.
A mac had been cheesed.
One Monday night, while I had been drowning my sorrows in Syrah wine for two hours, the end of The Bachelor episode reminded me that ADVENTURE IS OUT THERE!!
Wanna meet our next Bachelor? We might be coming to a city near you!
My friend goes Holy crap, Briana. You HAVE to apply for the Bachelor. You would FERSURE make it on.
Omg stop stroking my ego, for one. For two, there’s NO freaking way I would ever be chosen for The Bachelor. No way in Hades lair.
You know how many girls want to get on that show? Do you know how many pathetically single girls (me) apply to be on that show?
All I knew about these “castings” is that girls wait in six-hour (or longer) lines with blistered feet and no food just to sit in front of a camera for 3 minutes, with someone who probably has nothing to do with the show at all. They have to try and be funny, while also trying to be more interesting than the thousands and thousands of other girls doing the exact same thing.
What makes me different than these girls? I mean I diiiiid learn how to burp the alphabet at like age 5.
But really? Like, how am I going to stand out? Well, I think I am pretty funny. However, am I funny when I’m nervous? Probably not. I probably act like Michael Cera in Superbad when I’m nervous.
So naturally, the hours before I go to the casting, I calm my nerves, and channel my inner Kevin Hart, with 3 glasses of champagne and by taking a nice poop.
DON’T EVEN TRY TO ACT LIKE YOU DON’T HAVE TO POOP WHEN YOU GET NERVOUS.
I enjoyed my first glass of champagne while I was getting ready in my apartment, jamming out to the Biebs and Selena Gomez (RIP to that ‘ship). You can see why I should have probably stopped drinking after this point. Houston, queue the moves.
But nope. I’m a survivor *Beyoncé voice*.
After I finish with my ensemble, I travel to the bar, where my idk BFF Ky works, called Dandelion Market, for 2 more glasses of champagne and a pep talk from the staff.
Be yourself. You’re hilarious. Have more champagne.
UGH SUCH BAD ADVICE! I’M SO AWKWARD AND THE CHAMPAGNE ISN’T HELPING MEEEEE!!!!
Except, at the time, I was totally like Ermahgerd you’re so right. I AM funny. I’m so going to get on The Bachelor and he is going to fall in love with me and everyone is going to totally adore me.
Fast forward to arriving at the Epicentre, where the casting was taking place. I am expecting this long ass line, so I came prepared AF.
I had sandals, I had snacks, I HAD WATER!
I needed none of it. There were maybe, like, 5 girls in front of me in line, so I just strolled my drunk ass inside and started to fill out the questionnaire. It asked dumb questions like:
‘Why did your last relationship end?’
Cause he ain’t shit.
‘Why do you think you could find love on The Bachelor?’
Cause I’m the shit.
What do you look for in your future husband?
Him thinking I’m the shit. And abs.
After about 10 minutes of writing, and a cramping hand, I took my dumbass over to the only dude in the whole room (bet he was loooving that). He took my picture outside three times. The last time he said “Pose how you want to” and I panicked and just smiled exactly like I did for the last two shots.
Ugh, dumb loser.
So, I go into this curtained room with this woman and she mics me up through my boobies and turns this GIANT ass light above the camera on. I immediately ask if my highlight was “poppin'” and framed my face with my hands because I am a freaking loser.
She asks me the same questions that were on the questionnaire and I tried to be funny and cute but DAMN! I just really wanted another drink so I could look exactly how the girls on the show look at all times. Then they would have to cast me. #MakeAmericaCorinneAgain
The moment that I thought I was a shoo-in was when she asked me the last question:
“Why do you want to be on The Bachelor?”
I don’t WANT to be on The Bachelor in the sense of just wanting to be on a show. I just want to find my freakin’ soulmate. Clearly it hasn’t worked so far, in everyday life, so I am totally open to being on this show. If it has worked for others, why can’t it work for me?
GUYS. I thought I was soooo IN with this answer. I was trying to reverse psychology the frick outta this betch. I’m not clever enough for that. Who do I think I am?
Want to know the best part about the audition?
The 3 free drinks you got afterwards. YUP.
3 glasses of red wine later, I notice they have a snack table. Yes please? I walked over and I see carrots and ranch.
If I’m going to be on The Bachelor I better start eating more carrots.
Want to know the worst part about the audition?
The “ranch” was mother effing GREEK YOGURT!!!! Infuriating.
WHO THE SHITAKE MUSHROOMS EATS CARROTS WITH GREEK YOGURT INSTEAD OF RANCH!?!?!?!
I hate everyone. Bye “The Bachelor Casting”. But still cast me though.
So, naturally, I go back to Dandelion Market for more opportunities to make a fool of myself. A skip and a jump later my idk BFF Ky gets off work and sits with me for some snacks and a drink. As we were about to leave, it starts to rain hard AF. Like so hard. Hard. Giggity.
So we decide that a good way to walk home is to put trash bags over our heads for protection. We were the definition of trash. I am trash.
But you know me!! Gotta make it a good time. Especially since I ruined any and all possibilities of making it on The Bachelor cause I’m so dumb. Maybe they should have given me an inanimate object and said “Do something funny with this”. And this would have been the result if said object was a trash bag.
Am I little salty that I didn’t get called to go on the show? Yes.
Am I going to audition again for the next one? BEST BELIEVEEEEE!
You all know you would love to see me find that perfect human to put up with all my odd tendencies on television. Don’t even try to deny that.
Per usual, wittle monkeys, leave your feedback and comments to show me how much you enjoyed (maybe hated) this blog post.
Subscribe to my blog so you get a good ol’ email notification every time I post a new rambling!
Bad & Boozy & The Bachelor,
A Millennial’s Monologue