Trent: Yeah, man just kinda… you know, you got these claws and you’re staring at these claws and your thinking to yourself, and with these claws you’re thinking, "How am I supposed to kill this bunny, how am I supposed to kill this bunny?"
Sue: And you’re poking at it, you’re poking at it…
Trent: Yeah, you’re not hurting it. You’re just kinda gently batting the bunny around, you know what I mean? And the bunny’s scared Mike, the bunny’s scared of you, shivering.
I should really be freaking out now that three days have passed (eight, if you count exactly on the calendar and include the weekend — which I don’t, but I didn’t want any of you weekend-counters to feel left out) and I still haven’t heard anything about the super teriffic Sci-Fi hosting gig that isn’t on the Sci-Fi Channel.
But I’m a level 27 Bard, with a billion ranks in Sense Motive (plus Epic Skill Focus) and Regie’s Ruby Ring of Really Reliable Scrying. In other words, I usually know when I’ve gotten or lost a gig with laser-like precision. I can feel it in my soul when a decision has been made, even if that decision is made on the other side of the world. I know that’s totally ooga-booga, but it’s true. I’ve been making sense motive checks all day long, and they’re either hiding behind a wall of lead and Kryptonite, or they haven’t made a decision, yet.
Oh! They just made a decision and — oh, wait. That’s just gas. My bad.
I will admit to leaping up and racing to the phone whenever it rings,
and saying, "aw, nuts," when the caller ID doesn’t tell me that it’s my
manager giving me a ring up on the dictaphone, but other than that, and
the constant rolling of the d20, I haven’t really been obsessing about
it that much.
Anyway, I talked with Shane about it at length today, because he’s been involved in programming like this from both sides of the table. I didn’t tell him about the R³R²S, but we still came to the conclusion that it’s still too early to panic. The most likely option right now is that a decision simply hasn’t been made. Does that mean they’re looking at other guys? Probably. Does that mean I should freak out? I don’t think so. All I can do is give my best audition, which I did, and hope that the other things I bring to the table outweigh however good looking the other guys are. I’m also pretty sure I’ll have to dodge a Kimmel on the Turn and River.
I think I’ll make a call tomorrow, so I at least know if I’m buying a case of Guinness to celebrate or drown my sorrows. Hey, either way, I get to drink a ton of Guinness.
To make the continued waiting as cute as possible, please enjoy this kitten: