I glanced at a mirror.
Nothing but frizz and fright.
I leaned in real close and tried to appeal to her sense of justice.
My laugh lines look like the San Andreas Fault. Ive seen Gayle Guyardo up close and need someone to work that magic on me. Surely you have a professional who can address these sagging cheeks and bags under my eyes that resemble two testicles in need of a biopsy.
She wasnt fazed.
We like the natural look.
Theres nothing natural about a 20-year-old tube of mascara and some lip gloss I bought at 7-11.
My kids begged me not to embarrass them," I continued. "That was before I broke two nails trying to fluff my hair in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Gandy Bridge.
I sighed and gave up.
No bar. No professional hair and makeup.
This was not my kind of morning.
Then they told me Dean Cain would appear in the first segment.
I follow Superman?
Strike. Fucking. Three.
I asked for the ladies' room and tried to find a side exit. No luck. Every time I turned a corner, I ran into Mike Deeson.
He's scarier than those twins in The Shining.
I walked back to the studio.
The producer sent me further into panic mode with warnings about curse words, sex talk and FCC fines. Then another gentleman came over, slipped the microphone down my shirt, around my waist and hooked everything on to the back of my jeans.
Now you know me as well as my husband and Jesus, I told him.
When they called me up to my chair on stage and we waited for the commercials to end, I couldnt help but wonder how this would go. Would they be friendly or mean? Rachel Maddow or Bill OReilly? Will Smith or Chris Brown?
Turns out, Jerome and Holly were great, even if they are happy and good-looking. They even laughed a few times. I bashed Capitalism: The Ideology and raved about Capitalism: A Love Story.
Afterward, everyone asked me to come back and Microphone Man even winked.
I left feeling on top of the world. Phone calls, emails, texts, Facebook updates and Twitters all positive. I offered to give my autograph to everyone I met and although the gas station attendant didnt find me charming, everyone else was complimentary.
My kids wouldnt be embarrassed after all.
Then I went home and saw the show myself.
I couldnt stop berating the television.
HDTV is the devil.
Whats the opposite of a close-up? Give me a wide shot, for the love of Christ. Wide shot!
Why am I kicking my left leg?
Calm down, Katie.
"Cannot believe you're saying you'd like to go back to when moms stayed at home. Beautiful."
Do I always talk with my hands?
"It's yellow police tape, bitch. YELLOW."
Stop looking around. Make eye contact!
Will you look at all the goddamn wrinkles.
What is up with my jaw? The Ruth Buzzi look is not hot!
"The camera adds 20 pounds. Easily."
Oh, Katie, stop rambling. You sound like a Valley Girl.
I thought my children would be on my side.
Youngest asked if he could wear sunglasses when we go to the grocery store.
Oldest rubbed my arm.
Youre not embarrassed, are you? I asked.
Can Nana pick us up from school from now on? My friends are already calling you a communist.
To add insult to injury, Studio 10 said theyd post the segments online by 3 p.m. that day.
Im still waiting.
They posted every other segment. Just not mine.
I tossed and turned in bed that night, going through the appearance and wondering what went wrong.
I didnt wear anything provocative. I didnt mention Brazilian waxes or my vast collection of love toys. I didnt talk about anyones ass and I didnt hit on Jerome. Or Holley.
But I did bash capitalism.
On network television.
Could that be why they didnt post the video?
A vast right-wing conspiracy or did too many people call to complain that the glare off my forehead is worse than the sun...
10.05.09 UPDATE: Postpone those calls to Michael Moore. Turns out it wasnt my politics or puss that bent anyone out of shape. Channel 10 experienced some tech issues. My clip is online here.
And yes, those curls are natural. I certainly wouldnt do that on purpose.