When my publicist, Victor Gulotta, emailed me to say I was going to be a guest on Playboy Radio, my mouth fell open.“Oh my God, I am so not a Bunny!”
He reassured me. Not to worry, I was going to be a Play Date.
“Oh my God. What’s a Play Date? I’m not a Play Date, either!”
He assured me that he and the producer felt I’d be perfect for the show. And even more good news: 2.5 million listeners.
2.5 million listeners?!
Needless to say, for my first ever radio appearance to be with Playboy, in front of millions of listeners, I was both excited and nervous.
But off to Los Angeles I flew.At the radio station, host Tara Mack and show producer, Kevin Dalton, walked me through the details. There would be rhyming games, guessing games and more, all geared to test the ‘dating’ skills of male callers. Callers would provide answers and I would judge the appeal of the answer to a woman, thereby deciding the caller’s fate: Whether he’d remain on the line and/or win prizes or get disconnected, thereby ending the ‘date.’
Five … four … three … two … one … We’re on the air.
The show is fast-paced, with a Beat the Clock kind of feel. Feeling like Speed Racer, I zipped through the answer to Tara’s question on where I got my ideas for my books, unknowingly racing towards Life’s Most Embarrassing Moment #1.
In the midst of a game where callers had to create unique verses to Roses Are Red, Tara turned to me, “Rachelle, do you know a word that rhymes with ‘poet’?”
I smiled, saw the word ‘Moët’ in my mind, and blurted, “Mow it!”
Oh. My. God. I’d just mispronounced a word that – when pronounced correctly – doesn’t even rhyme with ‘poet’ in front of 2.5 million listeners. My panicked brain searched for a way to save face – like, maybe I could suddenly develop a Southern accent and claim my mispronounciation was due to my accent.
Tara, gracious as well as a radio personality extraordinaire, zoomed in with the save, letting me cop the writer’s block excuse.
Onward to Life’s Most Embarrassing Moment #2.
Determined to redeem myself after the ‘Moët’ debacle, I saw my opportunity. A caller had to rhyme with ‘yellow’ but couldn’t.
“I know!” I said, excitedly. “Roses are red, violets are yellow, when I look at you my legs turn to jello.”
If I had been Tara, I would have rolled my eyes by now. Instead, she gave me a prize that made me laugh. “Congratulations, Rachelle. You’ve won a date with yourself.”
Despite these blunders, I did, indeed have fun. I was able to somewhat coherently state my thoughts on the appeal – or lack thereof – of caller’s statements. And on one of the games where I had to make my ‘date’ guess the word I was thinking of without saying it in order to test his listening skills, I took him to the final round. And watching Tara juggle technology, sound effect prompts, signals from the producer, deliver face-saving comments for me, handle callers, and deliver witty comebacks, all the while being polished, unruffled, and entertaining was a sight to see.
So, many thanks to Victor, Tara, April, and Playboy Radio, for the awesome experience. And special thanks to Kevin and Tee, for giving me a crash tour of the Playboy television studio on the day before a holiday weekend.