Thursday, June 10, 2010
Drew Carey May Not Be Bob Barker, But He's Certainly Grown On Me.
When people hear the word "fantasy," sex is usually the first association. It's not to say that I don't have a few of these. There was a certain staff member I'd love to have banged in the student greenhouse, after all. But my fantasies really lend themselves to a much more mundane world. I dream of finding specific, amazing antiques. I think about who I'd give away my fortune to should I ever be lucky enough to win a lottery. I long to be the next person to make an archeological discovery akin to the Rosetta Stone. I want to travel the world in style, sampling every nation, every exotic locale I've ever heard described. But my most specific is all about The Price Is Right.
I hear my name called to "Come on Down." I hit the bid on the nose, and win $500, straight out of the gate from Contestant's Row. I get to play Golden Road, and the prizes are a worldwide vacation, $50,000 to spend along the way, and an apothecary chest. (Plinko, hitting the $10,000 spot each time, is a close second.) I, of course, hit a dollar on my first spin, and then the nickel spot on my second go. I am awarded the appropriate gifts for my ability to do so. I play the Showcase, and I am not only under, I am within $100 of my bid, and I win both showcases!!!! I win several trips here, a new car, a houseful of new appliances and carpet, and a jukebox. All of this, and I am allowed to be the one who asks viewers that day to "Have Your Pets Spayed or Neutered."
Wildly inappropriate fucking is one thing, but The Price is Right, man. That's just unbeatable shit right there.