Not quite ready for prime time

If someone came up to me tomorrow with a contract and wanted to follow me around with a camera for six months, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Van Vleet TV, we could call it. VVTV for short.

My own reality show

I could document life in western Montana from a unique point of view, that of a struggling writer/miserable fisherman.

Sort of like Norman Maclean, only not successful in any way.

I tend to think that nearly everyone at some point has wondered what it would be like to watch their lives on TV, to see how they actually come across to others.

Everyone's had a few of those moments where they think, "I could be way more entertaining than Ozzy Osbourne" or "I could say way dumber things than Jessica Simpson."

It seems everyone's life would be much more interesting on a 62 inch plasma TV.

I know mine would.

Last summer, for example, I lived in a tent at a minor league baseball stadium in central Florida for 152 days in a row as part of a promotion.

Van Vleetville we called it.

The hurricane season destroyed three of my tents, I lost every ounce of self respect and I even contemplated death at least once a week. It's not easy trying to sleep in 100-degree weather with bird-sized mosquitoes, angry hordes of fire ants and wild packs of armadillos bothering you all night long.

Take my word for it.

Let's just say my insomnia gave way to indignation gave way to incapacitation gave way to insanity.

Another summer I lived in the back of my car in Jackson Hole, Wyo. while working in a fly-fishing shop.

I snuck into a gym to shower, ate nothing but 99-cent baked potatoes from Wendy's and even spent a few nights at a homeless mission when I had to take my car/home to the shop after my rear window was accidentally smashed.

I can sleep on the floor of a homeless shelter or a foul-smelling tent, but not on broken glass. That's where I draw the line.

I was thinking there are several qualities a person must have to be a great reality TV star, starting with a penchant for blowing everything out of proportion, and luckily I've got that one covered- just read the past few paragraphs. They are examples of some of the worst and most melodramatic writing in the history of the written word.

Stars also have to be accident prone and have to have weird things happen to them all the time.

That's me - just ask about my hitchhiking adventures with Magic Sal and the woman known only as J. Lopez, the time I fell down a brick staircase in front of 200 people or the time I broke my nose after ejecting myself out of a pair of moving skis.

Reality TV stars also have to be completely irrational, devoid of any redeeming qualities and ready to self-destruct in an instant when the ratings are about to crash.

Check - just ask me about the time I ripped a Kate Chopin book in half in my high school English class or the time I audibly threatened to maim my cousin Patrick and pelted him with a corn dog after he made fun of me in a fast food restaurant.

I rest my case. Bring on the cameras.

I think I'm ready for my 3/4 cropped head shot with a polarizing filter and digital blemish remover, Mr. DeMille.

Oh, and I could almost guarantee you a bear attack or a lost limb by sweeps week.

You know, on second thought, these things are barely fit for print, let alone the screen, so maybe I should stick to writing news stories.

I can't do much else.

John Van Vleet is a reporter for the Hungry Horse News.