Blog Exchange with Alison

(Host's Note: In keeping with a now-blossoming tradition of communal blogging, Alison and I have decided to write on each other's blogs for today. The shared topic is Reality TV. And hers is better than mine. I found this out as I made the mistake of reading hers before writing mine... you know, the same thing Scott did a few weeks ago. Because I don't learn. So enjoy.)

For those of you who read my blog on a regular basis, you know that I can get a bit personal. I share my political views, my wildest dreams and my biggest regrets. I've recounted my journey from Denver to Toronto, including the difficulties I've had adjusting to my new life here. But I've kept a secret, and a big one at that.

I'm a millionaire.

Not that I've been purposely hiding this; it's just a bit difficult to work into polite conversation. And no, I'm not an heiress like the Hilton sisters. I earned my money the old-fashioned way: I got rich off reality tv.

A few years ago, looking for adventure and a shot at fame and fortune, I auditioned for a reality show. (It never aired because it ran into some 'production difficulties', which I'll explain later. So don't do a Google search looking for it or for me; you won't find anything.) Many of the details of the making of this show are confidential; I had to sign an agreement, otherwise all the reality shows would copy off one another and then where would we be? But I'll share what I can.

First of all, the audition process was easier than one might expect. There was a quick screen test, as well as a questionnaire. Do you have any sort of checkered past that could be uncovered? (No) Will you wear a bikini on tv and/or hook up with another cast member in case the ratings need a boost? (Sure) Do you promise not to make allegations of improper sexual conduct against any of the show's producers or judges? (Ok) Even if it's true? (Ok) That's about it; I was chosen as one of 10 contestants.

The premise of the show was simple: we were dropped off in a foreign country with the following items:

- A passport
- A work Visa
- A job
- An apartment

(Note: Any logos, text or references that would disclose the identity of the foreign country were blurred out during the taping of the show. But if you pay close attention, you can probably guess the one I'm talking about.)

Like most reality shows, each week there was a challenge; losing the challenge meant getting voted off the show, or "deported". But this show had a twist: after the challenge was revealed, we could accept it or choose to "run". The second option meant turning in your passport and work Visa, leaving your job and apartment, and trying to outplay, outwit and outlast Immigration. Get nabbed by Immigration and get deported. Whoever lasts the longest - in the group or out on their own - wins. The prize: $1,000,000 and permanent residency in the foreign country.

At first, the challenges were easy.

Week 1: Your apartment leaks water from the light fixture on the kitchen ceiling, creating a fire hazard and condemning the building. You must find a new place to live; whoever finishes last is deported. (Accepted the challenge, finished first.)

Week 2: You lose your job, your work Visa, and your eligibility to legally remain in the foreign country. You must find a new job with a company willing to sponsor you and issue you a new work Visa; whoever finishes last is deported. (Accepted the challenge, finished first.)

Then they got harder.

Week 3: Name 10 players in the NHL.

I ran like hell.

Which meant I was on my own in a foreign country with no home, no family or friends, no job, and Immigration on my tail. I thought I was toast, but then a miracle occurred. I never learned the exact nature of the Week 4 challenge, but it cleared out the house - everybody ran.

And here's another secret: reality tv contestants are generally not rocket scientists. These folks got picked off pretty quickly, until I was the sole survivor. Which meant I won the million dollars.

Except for one small problem, which brings us to the 'production difficulties' I alluded to earlier. There had just been 7 deportations in a 12 hour period, all of which made the news, which brought the show more notoriety than the sum of our collective checkered pasts ever could have done. And while Immigration was a good sport about the first 3 or 4, they quickly lost their sense of humor and started cracking down. Which left me running around illegally in a foreign country, entitled to the prize, but afraid to turn myself in to claim it.

This amounted to a pretty unsatisfying ending - for me, for the show's producers, and probably, for the millions would-be viewers. Because of this, the show got scrapped, and - rumor has it - the prize money was used to fund season 2 of Canadian Idol.

So what about my original claim of being a millionaire? Since I obviously didn't win the prize money, did I make that up? And what about my permanent residency in the foreign country - something that I often blog about - did I fabricate that, too? Good lord, am I still running around this place illegally?

Well, here's what happened. A bit annoyed with how things turned out, I took my 'real' reality tv experience, changed enough of the details to get around the signed confidentiality agreement, and sold the idea to a network in the States. They created their own version, aired it, and paid me for my idea.

And while I remain in the foreign country, I can assure you that I'm no longer running around without legal documentation. It's just amazing what you can buy these days with $1,000,000.

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