Katie Couric better watch her back
Well, perhaps that's overstating it a bit, since I apparently couldn't be bothered to sit up straight (note to self: the back of the chair is for decorative purposes only; do not actually lean back on it) and since my habit of looking at the ceiling when I'm thinking appears as eye-rolling on TV. But all in all, my four minutes of fame went quite well.
It was a bizarre experience, though. I showed up at the studio 45 minutes early, as instructed. I briefly met the producer -- who looked all of 12 -- then sat and waited in the darkened lobby. And waited. And then waited some more. I played with my new cell phone, talked to my sister, called my mom and waited some more. I only checked my appearance twice, which I think showed admirable restraint.
Speaking of my appearance: Holy near wardrobe malfunction! Somehow the shirt I carefully ironed and then set aside, to be put on just before I left the house, gained grease spots on both breasts. Where this came from I have no idea, but I discovered it at the last second and ran around the house shrieking like a maniac until I found a sweater that was clean and relatively unwrinkled.
In any case, when they finally escorted me into the studio, I chatted briefly with the hosts, hopped up on the chair and yammered away as they asked a handful of questions. They were interested in things I was taken aback by, and completely missed areas I felt certain they'd mention. I never said the magazine's name (the hosts did, more than once), and I totally missed a point I really wanted to make. But when I came home and watched the tape with D, I was surprised at how well I think I did. Got a nice email from my editor this evening saying he's proud of me, which was awfully sweet of him. And I've got another line on ye olde resume.
Now if only I could get my pulse rate down.
It was a bizarre experience, though. I showed up at the studio 45 minutes early, as instructed. I briefly met the producer -- who looked all of 12 -- then sat and waited in the darkened lobby. And waited. And then waited some more. I played with my new cell phone, talked to my sister, called my mom and waited some more. I only checked my appearance twice, which I think showed admirable restraint.
Speaking of my appearance: Holy near wardrobe malfunction! Somehow the shirt I carefully ironed and then set aside, to be put on just before I left the house, gained grease spots on both breasts. Where this came from I have no idea, but I discovered it at the last second and ran around the house shrieking like a maniac until I found a sweater that was clean and relatively unwrinkled.
In any case, when they finally escorted me into the studio, I chatted briefly with the hosts, hopped up on the chair and yammered away as they asked a handful of questions. They were interested in things I was taken aback by, and completely missed areas I felt certain they'd mention. I never said the magazine's name (the hosts did, more than once), and I totally missed a point I really wanted to make. But when I came home and watched the tape with D, I was surprised at how well I think I did. Got a nice email from my editor this evening saying he's proud of me, which was awfully sweet of him. And I've got another line on ye olde resume.
Now if only I could get my pulse rate down.
posted by mc at 8:29 PM
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