I’m the tiredest motherfucker in the United States of America. So tired, in fact, that I am currently asleep. You find that difficult to comprehend, since it would appear that I’m writing which is, technically, impossible to do while you’re sleeping. I can also cook, fold laundry, and have sex, all while fast asleep. And I can do these things simultaneously. That’s just how good I am. 

Casting reality television is an interesting job. You have to figure out what types of people the producers want, throw out a net (casting notices), pull in as many fish (crazy people) as you can, then sort out the ones that’ll look good in the tank (hot, funny, interesting, big breasted, stupid, or all of the above). Typically, once the cast is selected, our job is done, and we move on to another show. The show I’m currently working on, however, is different. Because of the unique premise, the casting people are kept on for the duration of the production. On one hand, that’s a good thing, because it means more money. On the other hand, it also means you’re not going to sleep much. In case you are unaware, the act of not sleeping makes you tired. Very tired. Very fucking tired. Did I mention that you get tired from not sleeping? If not, I am mentioning it now. You get tired from not sleeping. Since I have not been sleeping, I am tired. I am very tired, because I am very not sleeping. I am doing the opposite of sleeping. I am awaking…constantly awaking. This completely contradicts what I said in beginning of this story, but I don’t care. I am too tired to care.

Somebody bring me a pillow, my pj’s, and a hot chick in a schoolgirl outfit.

Speaking of hot schoolgirls, there are none on this show. There are some hotties on the cast, which you will enjoy when you watch it, but they are not schoolgirls, nor are they wearing schoolgirl outfits. If I ever create a reality show, rest assured that every girl will be wearing a schoolgirl outfit and pigtails. The guys will be wearing um, well, there won’t be any guys. Why would I cast dudes? I’m sure some of you out there might argue with that but it’s my fucking show, so blow me. Anyway, there are also some very hot and/or cute girls working here on the show. If I were a young boy, you might say I have a few crushes, I am not a young boy, however, so you ought not say that. Cuz it sounds sort of douchebag-ish. Suffice to say there are a few ladies of interest here at the production facility. Actually, there are two. And what’s really funny is that they fall on opposite ends of the spectrum. I find both equally attractive, in a physical sense, yet they are totally different. One is what you would traditionally consider “hot”, and the other is what you would traditionally consider “cute” (see also: “pretty”). Nothing will come of any of this talk, other than a blog because, as most of you know, I don’t really date (See: Single And Ready To Mingle). Even if I did date, I definitely don’t like to ask people out. Particularly if I don’t know them that well. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. If I want awkward and uncomfortable I can go troll the bars in West Hollywood and tap chicks on the neck looking for an adam’s apple (not near as uncomfortable as the “package check”). So, unless some serious Harry Potter type magic happens, you’ll hear nothing further of either of these girls. It’s sad, because either of them could have been my next dysfunctional relationship. But we’ll always have the lack of memories…

The best thing about being awake is watching the filming of the show. It’s called Solitary 3.0, it’s the 3rd season (hence the “3.0″) and it’s on Fox Reality. If you want to catch up on the first two seasons, go to http://www.hulu.com/solitary and check it out. It’s cruel, it’s torturous, it’s fucking awesome. Watch a few episodes and then imagine watching it all live, while it happens. I have never been more entertained in my entire life (Well, there was that threesome, but it didn’t come with a paycheck). Watching this show be created before my very eyes has helped me figure out exactly what I want to do with my life. I don’t want to be an actor, I don’t want to be a rock star, I don’t even want to be president.

I want to be Val.

Now I’m off to sleepwalk my way through the rest of my day, snoring randomly in the midst of conversation, letting my morning wood stand proudly in front of me, and daydreaming of hotties while they stand in front of me.

I’m tired, have I mentioned that?