The Aptly Named "Uh Oh"

When I was fourteen, the day camp where I worked as a junior leader was contacted by YTV.  They needed contestants for a new game show called "Uh Oh".  Excited by the memories of toy mountains from "Kid Street", my friends and I eagerly auditioned.  If the casting directors were looking for outgoing kids who were willing to make fools of themselves on television, they found the right place.

Jackie and I were both selected as contestants.  We were not allowed to be partners because I was taller than her, and we didn't look good standing together on TV.  We were disappointed, but you know, whatever. We were just thrilled at the opportunity to be the centre of attention and win some cool stuff.

The filming day finally arrived, and YTV sent a bus down to the camp to pick us up.  All our friends were allowed to come sit in the audience and cheer us on.  I was put on the blue team and Jackie on the green team.  We bid each other good luck and stared cooly into each other's eyes, knowing that for the next hour or so, we were enemies.  Children's game shows have a way of doing this to you, I suppose.  Exposing the competitive, conceited, conniving, greedy little monsters teenager's are.

As the audience was arranged, the contestants were herded into the green room where we were instructed on the rules of the game.  I don't remember most of them, but assume they were unoriginal:  Spin the wheel, answer a question, play a game, incorrect answers might get you slimed by "The Punisher".  This was Canadian programing, after all, so no creative boundaries were broken. I secretly hoped my partner would get an answer wrong so I would be slimed, as part of the overall game show experience, but otherwise I was cool, calm, collected and ready to win! 

Our very first task was to come tearing onto the stage, slapping high-fives with the audience as we ran up to the podium.  Easy enough, though wickedly lame.  I was really embarrassed to be high-fiving the audience, and also worried that they would be too cool to high-five me back. Worst still, I had to go first. 

What they neglected to tell us was that the lights would be off when we came running onto the sound stage, with only coloured strobe lights to guide our way through the twisting ally of arm-flailing kids.  Without much choice in the matter, I was shoved into the dark flashy auditorium.  Thank God the kids high-fived me back, because that would have been the worst type of embarrassment - or so I thought.  Then I ran into the camera man, knocking him over, causing him to drop the camera on his own head. 

They obviously stopped taping and had to bring up the lights while they checked his face and camera to make sure that neither were broken.  Not the type of "look at me" attention I was aiming for. 

Luckily for his face, everything was fine and we resumed the show.  To Cole's Note this for you, I didn't get slimed but my partner did as a result of me not knowing how dentures were attached when they were first invented.  We ended up winning, and went home with an electric keyboard, which I later sold via the Penny Saver for $100.

I would give that $100 to see the blooper reel one day.






AND now, thanks to Jack MacDougall, here are some clips from the show!

Truth, Truth, Lie

I recently learned a new road trip game.  It's called "Truth, Truth, Lie", and as it's fitting title suggests, you and your companions take turns telling stories, two of them true, one of them a lie.  Let's play!

My stories below all evolve around a family road trip to Prince Edward Island when I was about 7 years old.

Story 1
On the ferry boat crossing to PEI, we were given permission to wander around the boat so long as we stayed together.  Sarah was only 3 at the time and was harnessed on a leash, so Trevor and I decided to take her for a walk.  The ferry was quite large, with the lowest level full of cars and two decks for passengers to explore.  The upper deck was entirely open air, and the lower deck was partially enclosed with a wrap around observation deck.  Upstairs was a bit too windy for us; Sarah's leash turned out to be a saviour as 3 year old's in high wind proved to be great kites.  Downstairs was much more fun, with a snack bar and pin ball machines inside and the great view outside.  I had never been on a boat before and was very excited to lean over the edge and water the water churn out behind us.  It all felt very Titanic, and we even passed some huge chunks of ice (icebergs to my young mind) with penguins on them.

Story 2
Also on the ferry boat as we approached PEI,  Trevor and dad were on the upper deck of the boat, and my mom, Sarah and I were on the lower deck.  We were approaching shore, and I decided I wanted to see from the top level.  I ran upstairs, but wasn't able to find my dad or Trevor.  The boat was beginning to dock so I rushed back downstairs trying to find someone from my family amidst the crowd of people exiting.  They weren't downstairs either.  I ran laps around the ferry until I was the last person on the whole boat, terrified that I'd been forgotten.  As the crew was raising the ramp to depart, they realized I was a stowaway and ushered me off the boat, alone.  Just as I was approaching a complete nervous breakdown, I saw my family gathered at the bottom of the dock, watching and waiting to see what I'd do.  It was one of those classic "I thought YOU  had her" parenting moments, but they somehow turned it into a "and that's why we don't wander away" lessons.  At least it reaffirmed any self-consciousness about having one of their children tethered to a harness.

Story 3
While in Prince Edward Island (on Prince Edward Island?) we were staying at the house of some friend's of the family who had two kids a bit older than we were.  Their play room humbled me...it was in the loft above their laundry room, and was accessed by a ladder.  One afternoon they took Trevor to the beach to see their secret cave, but my parent's wouldn't let me go since they thought I was too young to climb the rocks with big kids.  I was pouty and wanted to go sulk it out in their awesome playroom.  While climbing up the ladder, I slipped and fell, bashing my nose on the way down.  Too prideful to admit that I fell from the ladder - thus proving that their point about not being able to hand climbing to the cave -  I stiffed my nose bleed with one of the family's guest towels, and then hid the bloody evidence behind their washing machine.

So which one is the lie?  Guess below :)

Neil-wycik

Living in Neil-Wycik was definitely a bitter-sweet experience. On one hand, it provided subsidized housing for students in downtown Toronto (I think rent for my room was $420). On the other hand, the rooms were so small you couldn't rotate a twin mattress, and you co-habitated with vermin. Either way, during the formualative years of 2002-2005, I called Neil-Wycik my home.

The very first day I lined up in the foyer with all the other newbies waiting to move in, my dad grew bored of waiting, as he is apt to do. After doing a little bit of sleuthing (read: he walked over to the admin desk like he owned the place and rooted through paperwork until he found my name) my dad hiked up four stories worth of stairs and explored my new accommodations on his own. After a measly 5 minutes he returned full of glee, and that's when I knew I was in for trouble. His proud look of self-satisfaction was the embodiment of years of preaching "how good I had it" finally coming to fruition.  He didn't even hide his taunts from the other newbies waiting in line: "Your room is smaller than your bathroom at home" he told me, and my stomach knotted.

As true as his statement was, I check-mated him later when I noted that Stella and I were going to be living with three dudes. This revelation was not as amusing to him.  Growing up under his roof, boys were literally not allowed to step foot on our staircase, and now my room was sandwiched between two of them.  At the very least, perhaps he found comfort in that they were both aerospace engineers; Worse case scenario if I were to fall for one of them, his grandchildren wouldn't grow up in a house on wheels.