What do I get myself into? This past weekend my friend and his roommates threw a party at their apartment in Harlem and invited me. I gladly accepted and took a flight out to NYC. Filled with anticipation, as I've heard how their past parties went down, my girlfriend and I walked through the door to see Tyra Banks, Nigel Barker, Eva Pigford, Yoanna House, Naima Mora, Caridee English! Okay the party's theme was "Harlem's Next Top Model" with pictures of the cast and the models from the actual show posted all over the apartment. They also had the season's past shows playing on DVD for further inspiration. Pretty early into our arrival one of the roommates stop us to ask for our participation in being in the running to become "Harlem's Next Top Model". What! No way, I'm not putting myself out there like that! What's involved?!? Didn't take much arm twisting to get me to agree to having my very own photo shoot and, get this, a runway walk-off... Sold!
So participating in the challenge was me, my Naomi Campbell hot friend, and some pretty good-looking boys, who you guessed it, like boys but that's neither here nor there; let's get to the festivities. So the first task was to "smile with your eyes". Huh? Next - pose with an exotic animal, and by exotic they meant plastic spider. Third and most fun was the runway walk-off challenge. Since I watch every televised fashion show there is to watch, I killed that challenge... no brainer. All this done by interrupting the party, stopping the music and clicking on the lights for all to view... can you say embarrassing!
Later after all participants completed the tasks, three judges went to deliberate and not soon thereafter returned a verdict of ME - The Girl! I win I win. I was later brought back to reality when an "audience member" approached me saying, "Congratulations, it means nothing". BAM below the belt, but so true. No spread in Elle magazine, no $250,000 modeling contract. It was fun though while it lasted.