A while back I had a call from the producers of a new reality cooking show. They wanted to know if I wanted to be on it as a cheftestant (is that what the kids are calling it these days?). Then they sent me the info about the show. It was called X-Treme Chef. They wanted me to cook while sky-diving! And fighting bears! And with only the tools I made myself out of the bones of a dinosaur that I killed by building a time machine out of what I could find in a small child’s lunch bag, going back to the Mesozoic Era and beating it to death with a pointy rock! It made me tired just looking at it. I politely declined.

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Then, yesterday, the promo for the show appeared over on Grub Street and when I got back from Taste of the Nation I watched it and I couldn’t stop laughing. Did they really think I could do these things? Run up a mountain with a backpack on? I’d just fall over, face-down on the sand and moan softly until some production assistant took pity and dragged me in out of the sun. Cook on the engine block of a car? Those things are dangerous – I’ve seen NASCAR. Cook in fake rain? I’d just wait it out. I mean, eventually those water tanks have to run empty, right? Remember to say the word, “extreme” a half-dozen times per episode? I can barely remember my name most days. I love that they thought I was capable of doing any of this. Most nights I’m capable of cooking and keeping my pants from falling down but that’s about it. Sometimes I even make it back to my apartment before I fall asleep (sometimes I actually do fall asleep and wind up in Queens).

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I can’t wait to see this show, but only if the winner gets to kill the losers with his bare hands. Or maybe the judges can put the loser’s heads on stakes and dance around them as the credits roll. Unfortunately, I am more interested in being on a show called Extreme Sleeping than Extreme Chef right now. Too bad for me they aren’t making that one yet, but if any reality series producers see this and are pitching Extreme Nap then I’m your girl.

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