My Audition for "The Real World"

ORANGE Buzz Editor Megan Fullerton tries out for The Real World and lives to tell the tale.

By Megan Fullerton

Last Monday, I checked my Facebook notifications and saw that the president of my sorority posted about an email she received for an open casting call the following day for MTV’s The Real World Season 30. Yes, there have been that many seasons, and no, I don’t think there are enough English-speaking cities for the show to film anymore without settling for places like Branson, MO or Reno, NV. Because I didn’t have anything better to do that day, except classes that my parents spend thousands of dollars for, I decided to get my “basic-ness” on, follow the one commandment MTV reality stars religiously live by and YOLO my way to Little Woodrow’s on Tuesday.

I approached this very strategically: Every “stranger” chosen for the show perfectly fits into a stereotype, having a cartoon-like personality. After evaluating all of my assets I could work with, I determined the best stereotype to represent that has never been seen in the show is the rich, uncultured bitch that washes her face with mineral water and has a maid for her college apartment. So, I threw on my pair of Louboutin’s, some suede jeans, and hid the iPhone 3 I currently use in a Stella McCartney vegan leather bag (like I care about stuff, or whatever).

Walking up to Little Woodrow’s, my eyes were blinded by a sea of neon sprawled around the tables on the outdoor patio. I picked up my application and sat near the front for prime people watching. Most of the girls had on bright, short skirts, or dresses paired with high, stiletto heels, and their hair had more volume than a dubstep rave. As for the guys, the two typical stereotypes represented in every season were fully in attendance: douchebags with horrible taste and gay guys with great taste and a love for drama.

My favorite person, the only stereotype you can find at an open casting call, sat right next to me. He was a starving, aspiring actor with average features and hope that a reality show is his big break. While filling out his application, he kept pestering the girl sitting right next to me with questions like, “What does it mean by ‘traits’ your friends define you as? Okay, I see, qualities that I am personally. Well, what did you put?” He was determined to nail this audition. I mean, he spent an hour at Kinko’s earlier that day printing out a non-required resume on Southworth 100% Cotton Resume Paper. Not to mention the long drive he made from Round Rock, the ultimate destination for someone with a thriving acting career. During the time he spent on one question, I had already filled mine out with responses like, “My friends think I’m passive-aggressive” or “The perfect day, for me, is getting a blowout, a shellac manicure and having a hot foreigner named Juan with muscular hands give me a two hour back massage by an infinity pool.”

After miserably waiting for an hour and a half, wondering why in the hell I decided to actually go through with this, I finally was called up to go talk to the casting director with nine other people. We informally sat on couches and handed the director our applications, stating our names and some “cool, interesting” facts about ourselves. Some people tried to represent themselves as “party animals,” others were “emotionally disturbed with a rough childhood,” and then there was the guy dressed exclusively in red and black that claimed to be a member of the Vampire Court of Austin, an alleged vampire association with enhanced non-human abilities. I researched this club after my audition, and it's is a very real thing. It has a Facebook page. Of course, I asked him if he drank blood. He said that he has, but chooses not to and there are very many communities out there that also live by this lifestyle. Okay, Team Edward.

I kept mine short. I introduced myself, saying I was a student and that “I’m going to law school so I don’t have to get a job and support myself, and my parents are like, totally chill with it.” When asked if I was single, I responded with, “Well like, what is single when you’re in college? You’re never NOT talking to someone, but yes, I’m not in any committed or serious relationships.” I got some big laughs and people thought I was ridiculous, which is exactly what I wanted. After everyone was done speaking, the director said that he would start calling people for second interviews around 10 p.m. that night, or maybe in like two weeks. Before everyone left, he held me and three other people behind and told us “we messed up our paperwork” and needed more information. It turns out that this is what is considered the second round, which makes the first round the “are you attractive enough to be on television?" round.

He took us to the back corner of the bar where a woman was taking headshots and had a stack of paperwork beside her. After taking mugshots with this woman, she handed us an additional 20-page application that had more in-depth questions for us to answer. I got to tell more awful lies about myself, such as claiming to be an aspiring venture capitalist and the biggest fear in my life is being poor. While I was filling it out, I realized I knew one of the girls sitting near me. Her name is Kelly, and in high school we all called her “Kelly Billabong” after she tumbled down the stairs at a party wearing a Billabong shirt. She is someone I would completely expect to be there, and after seeing her I really started questioning why I even came. After my hand began to cramp and my outdated iPhone died, I was pretty over this whole day and wanted to go home to drink some Merlot in my bathtub. I turned in my application and never heard back from the casting director. Although this day drug out way longer than I expected, I learned how to YOLO and really mean it.