Dammit, Trebek

I’ve been sucked in again. And all it took was an e-mail. That I should have unsubscribed from.

Back in February I attempted to make my dreams come true. Oh what dreams? Just the ones where I get on Jeopardy and dominate.

Whenever it’s on, I play along, usually guessing the answer just as fast as — if not faster than — the contestants actually playing. A considerable number of times I have known the answer to the Final Jeopardy question.

Well, what does one do when one has all this knowledge and confidence? Signs up to take the online test to see if you can make it to the first of several rounds determining whether or not you are a contestant.

So that’s what I did. In February. I had high hopes for this year. And then, in February, all hell broke loose. My appendix needed to be freed and I failed at accomplishing a goal I’d had since at least 5 years ago.

They trick you, see. You get your hopes up and then take a sample test and get questions like this:

Yeah. So you’re feeling pretty good about yourself. Until the end, when they tell you Congratulations. Congratulations that your computer is capable of allowing you to take this test on the date that has been pre-selected.

‘Cause when you get to take the actual test, the questions are nothing like this. They are more like “What are the names of three of the eight rivers in This Country You Didn’t Even Know Existed?” And also, “What was the third queen of England allergic to?”

HELL IF I KNOW.

So. I will, once again, not be preparing for this test – it’s set for 8 p.m. Jan. 17, a day after I spend a packed three-day weekend with a bunch of teenagers at Disney World for a church trip. I’ll let you know the results. But they probably won’t be good.

Maybe I should start a Twitter campaign. #LauraPlaysJeopardy or something like that. It seems to work for some things, and some people. Usually when it’s something important.

And this is something important. We’re talking dreams coming true here, people.

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