Bullshit. This whole thing was bullshit. I had bullshit friends and bullshit luck. Two weeks after I found out about this whole reality TV bullshit, that was another thing to add to my bullshit list, I went out with a bunch of friends to our favorite karaoke bar. Lindsey, one of my bullshit friends, decided to open her mouth and tell everyone about the show.

Unfortunately, that’s when my actions wind up next on my bullshit list. No one thought I would even make it to round three, if I even got chosen. So what do I do? I put down five hundred that I would make it to round five. Stupid stupid me.

Three days later, I found out that I made the final casting.

One week later, I’m here, riding in a dark black car. How was I going to even make it to round five? The only reason I knew anything about the Backstreet Boys was because my brother was obsessed. And I didn't live under a rock, so it wasn't like I could avoid them. I liked their music, don’t get me wrong. It just wasn’t the first CD I’d choose to listen to.

The car halted to a stop that almost threw me into the back of the seat. The driver turned around and gave me instructions to go to the front door of the plain grey building and type in a code that was written on the paper he handed to me. What was this the CIA? I don’t understand all the hoopla for a stupid reality show. It wasn’t like this was Justin Bieber or anything. I still don't understand that one.

After a bunch of paperwork and briefing on the “do’s and do not’s” of reality television, I was instructed to go out the backdoor and wait on the set for the rest of the girls to arrive and the producers. I was so not looking forward to see the other girls that willingly applied for this show.

When I walked through the back door there was a set that looked like a section of the carnival had been cut out and transplanted here. There were pink and red balloons lining a cobblestone walkway that lead to a clearing with pink bleacher-like stands. In front of the stands was a heart-shaped podium that looked like it doubled as a ticket counter with a turnstile next to it. The red carpet that led to through the turnstile, also went straight to a stream. The stream led from and toward tunnels and that was all that could been seen. Above the stream was a huge lighted sign, covered in glitter that said “Tunnel of Love”. Clever.

I walked up the walkway and saw a couple of other girls standing on the bleachers. She thought the majority looked like they were trying to imitate Stripper Barbie.

I’m not going to lie, I have a pretty rocking body. I spent a good portion growing up playing tennis and dancing. After I threw my knee out, I picked up yoga which turned all the bulky muscle I had into lean tissue. 

I was blessed with the “good genes” as my mother would say. I was tiny, five feet three to be exact and had enough curves that I didn’t look like a boy. This did not mean I felt the need to show all my goodies off to complete strangers. 

I walked up and stood next to a gorgeous, almost six foot tall girl with blonde hair that had been curled and teased to at least another six inches. She looked like she had flotation devices on her chest and her real lips matched the size and glittery color of her name tag lips. This is getting cheesier by the second.

“Hi! I’m Candy! What’s your name?”

“I’m Emily, It’s nice to meet you.” I started to shake her hand but was pulled in from a hug.

Here’s one thing you may not realize about me. I may be really sarcastic and bitchy, but that was just part of my humor. I was not raised to be rude. I have a wide variety of friends. I think everyone deserves a chance to have their goodness seen in them. Even if that “goodness” consisted of pole-dancing moves.

On with the show.

“Where are you from?” I asked. I wanted to be nice and figured this was also a good move to stay in the house.

Candy started to giggle, “Sorry, I’m just really excited! I’m from San Jose but I moved here a year or so ago once my modeling career started picking up. What do you do?”

“I own a small real estate agency in South Beach.” I was actually kind of liking this girl. Her bubbly personality was like permeating the area. She looked a little like a blow-up doll that they sell at sex stores, but she was genuinely nice so far and wasn’t nearly as dumb as I expected.

“Oh my gosh, that’s sooooo cool! What kind of houses do you build?” Okay, well she was still nice.

“I just sell houses. I don’t build them.” As I said that, the same producer that had checked me in came in front of the now filled bleachers with a microphone. He gave instructions to everyone on how to act and that we would learn more once the host came on and they would start recording. As he walked off, the host walked on which caused everyone to start screaming.

“Hi, I’m Carson Daly,” he paused to let the women continue screaming while I rolled my eyes, he continued, “I guess we’re going to start taping so just go along with everything. Be excited, it’s Nick Carter.” Wow, get a little more excited. At least you’re still getting a paycheck Carson.

There were more screams but Carson just looked really annoyed by this whole thing. He yelled for the makeup artist. They ran over and touched him up then the producer gave the cue to start rolling. Carson suddenly morphed into a charming TV host.

“I’m Carson Daly and we are about to follow these beautiful women,” he paused while the cameras panned the bleachers, “as they fight for the attention and the chance at love with the music idol that has graced the walls of teenage rooms since he was a teenager himself. Everyone let’s welcome Nick Carter!”

All the women started to scream, I followed suit. I wasn’t dumb, I knew TV cameras would be on me, plus it was kind of contagious. Just then, Nick came out on a red boat from the tunnel and stepped off. I could now see the effect he had on women…and my brother.

His smile was beautiful. I wondered if it was insured, I bet he could easily get a million dollar policy on it. Jennifer Lopez had her ass insured.

It literally sparkled and I could almost hear a little ‘ping’ from the shine. As I continued to stare at him, he started to speak.

“Ladies, it’s a pleasure. I can’t wait to meet each one of you and hopefully find that special women that completes the shape of my heart.” Everyone giggled at this, I was snapped out of my trance and wanted to gag a little at the cheesiness of the line. Clever but a little over the top.

“We have a gorgeous house to live in but unfortunately there aren’t enough spaces for all of you. So here’s the first challenge,”

All the girls gasped and some even screamed at the prospect of already going home.

Nick continued, “I travel a lot and I have to be with a women that can handle my crazy lifestyle. She has to be able to survive with only a small amount of luggage and she has to be able to leave at a moments notice. So over to this side,” he motioned to the opposite side of the bleachers and continued, “…are small suitcases with each of your names on them. You have fit all of your things into these suitcases and your purse, then make your way to the ticket counter to be checked and then on a boat to go to the house. Good luck!”

And with that Nick was back on his boat and went through the other tunnel and out of site. More small red boats came out of the other side and waited.

Girls were running everywhere.

Candy almost started crying as she dug through her three suitcases. I ran to mine and flung it open.

Thank God Andy forced me to let him help me pack.

I only had my large hobo and small suitcase. I fit all my clothes and shoes into my designated one and sat on it to zip it up. I walked toward the ticket counter with a couple of other women that were smart enough to not bring too much. I then walked onto a boat and sat down. I was actually feeling a little better about the show now. That challenge wasn’t so hard. I wondered what I had in store for me as I rode into the dark tunnel toward the other side.