Like Matthew, Rock Show Girl, Katy, and a bunch of schmoes I don't care about, I auditioned to be a trivia master Tuesday night.

For the past few weeks I'd been on the fence about being a trivia master: on the one hand, I'd like to have a hand in improving Lawrence's annual trivia contest. On the other hand, the duties of a trivia master would force me to be social for an entire weekend, an onerous task in uncertain company.

Ultimately, I decided to try out, reasoning that the current masters would select the most qualified applicants and everyone stood to benefit from an enlarged applicant pool. If I don't get the job, I can look forward to another year on Nerds with Gynophobia, our plucky little team. No big loss.

More cynically, my altruistic claim to be doing this "for the good of the contest" is probably nothing more than a hard candy shell, surrounding a delicious chocolate center of selfishness.

I wanted, and still want, to be a trivia master.

The audition was somewhat boring, by the way. Anticlimactic, after two and half hours of waiting with the same Beach Boys song playing incessantly in the background.

I don't believe that (by any stretch of the imagination) I blew the trivia masters away. But here's hoping that I squeeze in, along with at least one of the other applicants I'm rooting for.