THAT TIME I WAS ON A GAME SHOW
Show biz Is Hard But Friends Make All the Difference, Support Writers, Do Things that Scare You, Donut skin, and To Live and Die in Napoli
Hiya Friends!
Hope you enjoyed a little R&R this Labor Day Weekend. I know some folks are sad to see summer slip away, but I, for one, am thrilled to bid adieu to scorching heat, stifling humidity, and short sleeves. Sweating is completely overrated. Bring on the sweaters, wooly scarves, and steaming mugs of chai, I say!
Shout out to the writers and actors who’ve been on strike for 125 days! These brave folks are fighting the good fight and seeking to protect their art. I’m with them in solidarity and really hope the fat cat studio heads meet their demands, stat. If you want to help support the strikers, some talented artists, like the hilarious cartoonist, Roz Chast, have designed tees for sale with all proceeds going to out-of-work scribes. Grab yours here.
It’s no secret that I’m cynical about show business. I worked at a few movie studios as a marketing exec and grew weary of the politics, egos, and ambulance sirens every time a director, star, or producer had a meltdown. But I did make some good friends. There are many lovely people working in entertainment and some not-so-great people too.
Earlier this week, my friend, Jeff forwarded the following excerpt from TV writer, Patty Lin’s memoir via The Ankler. In the piece, Lin recounts her fraught journey to develop a CBS pilot, and how she mistakenly believed she’d bonded with Salma Hayek and Ben Silverman in the process. It’s a fun, albeit painful read and brought to mind some lessons I’ve learned about show biz over the years.
“THAT’S WHY THEY CALL IT SHOW BIZ”
In 1999, my friend, Gary—a hilarious comedian/Emmy-winning writer/performer/visual artist—asked me to audition with him and his friend, Stu for a new trivia game show on Comedy Central called VS..
Stu, also a comic, had spotted the call-for-contestants and figured he and Gary might increase their odds of getting cast if they had a woman on the team. Believe it or not, I didn’t leap at the chance to be that woman. In fact, I told Gary he should find a female teammate who actually knew some trivia.
My brain doesn’t cling to fun facts, especially under pressure. Plus, I’d never really “performed” on stage in my life except for one disastrous ballet recital at age 6 that ended in a fistfight between me and my frenemy, Lisa Kaplan. Needless to say, this whole game show idea sounded like a recipe for a reoccurring nightmare, starring me drenched in flop sweat on national TV. In other words, I was petrified to do something so out of my comfort zone.
Gary attempted to quell my fears and assured me that my sparkling personality would be enough to impress the casting folks. He said I wouldn’t even need to prep ahead of time because he’d be there to pick up the slack. You see, Gary was/is a ringer. Gary knows everything and within a few years of this game show audition, he’d go on to work as a professional writer on several game shows, and appear as a contestant on Jeopardy. He’s also very persuasive and eventually, I caved and said, “yes.”
The day of the tryouts, I met Stu for the first time. A tall, slim everyman, Stu had a sweet temperament and reminded me a bit of a young Jimmy Stewart. Gary’s vibe is more cartoon-like, funny, groovy glasses, wild patterned shirt, and an infectious giggle. I could see how our combined personalities would be complementary in a team setting.
If you’ve never attempted to get on a game show, you might think it’s a glamorous affair where you’re whisked onto the actual set with lights, cameras, and free food. Let me clear that up that misconception. For our audition, the three of us stood in a dingy conference room behind make-shift podiums fashioned out of cardboard while a producer read pop-culture trivia questions off of index cards. To “ring in” an answer, we were instructed to smack the fake buzzer and make a buzz sound. It was a pretty low-stakes affair what with the childlike homemade props and all, so I relaxed a little and decided to have fun.
The only question I can recall from the audition that day is, “What did a lab rat grow on its back?” Gary and I buzzed in and shouted the correct answer in unison: “An ear!” We high-fived each other, joked around, and had the best time winning this fake game show. Question after question, Gary and I Bogart-ed most of the answers while Stu barely got a word in. He just wasn’t as quick hitting the fake buzzer and obviously not as competitive as us.
A week later, Gary called and said, “Great news! We made the cut. Well, you and I did anyway.”
“What about Stu?” I asked.
“They don’t want him.”
I felt terrible and my heart hurt for poor Stu. The tryouts had been his idea and I never wanted to be on TV in the first place. It just didn’t seem fair and I told Gary as much.
“That’s why they call it show biz and not friend biz!” he said.
“So you’d sell your friend down the river for a shot at the big time?” I asked.
“I barely know the guy,” Gary said and laughed. Then he added, “Don’t worry about Stu. He’s a little disappointed, but he’s fine.” Truth is, Gary really didn’t know Stu very well. They’d met on the comedy circuit and were really just acquaintances.
Alas, the show went on, as it does and a few weeks later, Gary and I arrived at a studio as official game show contestants. VS., hosted by the erudite comedian extraordinaire, Greg Proops, pitted two teams of opposite-types against each other, i.e., cheerleaders vs. goth girls, sheriffs vs. hippies etc . . . The theme of our show was Farmers VS. City Slickers and, as you probably gathered, we were the latter.
Backstage, Gary and I met our third City Slicker/teammate—an attractive young blond woman whose name might’ve been Jill (it was a long time ago and my memory is spotty). Upon introduction, Jill didn’t strike me as very personable, but I hoped she’d prove to be a stealth trivia master.
Soon we were ushered to our podiums on stage and got a gander at the competition— three strapping Midwestern dudes, aka team Farmers. Ironically, the Farmers hadn’t needed a woman in tow to get cast, whereas we City Slickers needed two, apparently. Don’t get me wrong. I was all for more female representation on TV, it was just nerve-racking to put our faith in Jill, a complete stranger.
Right before show time, I turned to Jill and wished her good luck. With her perfectly coiffed locks a la Heather Locklear and sparkly blue eyes, she certainly looked ready for prime time and yet, I sensed her trepidation. I began to suspect that, like me, she was wondering what the hell she was doing on this stage. Sadly, it was too late for either one of us to flag a cab.
The game show consisted of three rounds, plus a grand finale, and from the get-go, Gary dominated the competition. Greg Proops took to Gary immediately and the two of them traded witty banter throughout the game. Our team (thanks to Gary) cleaned up round after round.
Despite my pregame anxiety, I did know a few answers here and there and tried to buzz in, but Gary was always quicker on the draw. Then came the third round where each player had to face off with a member from the other team. That meant Jill and I could no longer hide behind Gary’s genius.
Gary was up first and destroyed his opponent. Jill went next and flubbed every answer, which put a lot of pressure on me to even the score. So much for her being a secret scholar. At that point, I was really missing Stu, let me tell ya. And to think, Stu lost his slot to Jill just because someone considered her more telegenic. Freaking show business. It was yet another example of how talent and smarts have very little to do with success in the biz.
Following Ms. Dead Weight er . . . Jill’s poor performance, I was in full panic mode. Cue the flop sweat. My Farmer opponent—a hearty young blond man—towered over me and exuded confidence. I leaned in closer to Greg Proops hoping his proximity would somehow help me conjure an answer as I clutched my buzzer extra tightly to prevent it from slipping out of my clammy hand.
In this round, all the answers started with the word Caesar—Caesar’s Palace, Caesar Salad, and Cesar Chavez—and the questions were worded in a tricky fashion to steer us wrong. Lucky for me, Mr. Overconfident Farmer kept blurting out the incorrect answer before Proops had even finished reading the question. Example: “People line up for the buffet . . .” to which Mr. Farmer shouted, “Caesar Salad” (WRONG) and then Proops kept reading, “at this famous casino in Vegas.” Thanks to that guy’s impatience, I managed to get all the questions correct. I returned to the podium with a big grin on my face completely astounded that I hadn’t blacked out and been hauled off on a stretcher. I don’t want to say that this experience qualified as the proudest moment of my youngish life at the time, but it certainly ranked up there in the I CAN’T BELIEVE I PULLED THAT OFF department.
In the end, Gary aced the grand finale question and we emerged the victors. Jill, who failed to answer a single question during the entire show, still went home with around $1200 and a TV stand. I dug through some old boxes looking for the recording of the episode on VHS, but it must’ve disappeared in one of my moves. You’ll just have to take my word for it that this is how it went down.
DO THE THING THAT SCARES YOU
There were many valuable lessons to be learned from my game show experience that I tend to forget most of the time. 1) If you have an exceptionally smart friend who asks you to be on a game show, just say yes. You will probably win money. 2) Good looks may get you on a stage, but they won’t help you in a game show speed round. 3) Do the thing that scares you because you might prove to yourself that you’re capable of more than you ever thought possible.
That last one is a lesson I constantly have to re-learn. Every time I’m faced with something that makes me nervous, or I think there’s no way I can achieve a goal, I fail to recall all the times I’ve hobbled over a big hurdle. I really need to stick a note on my computer that says, “Don’t forget VS.!”
And lastly, despite Patty Lin’s bad experience and poor Stu getting kicked to the curb, show biz is in actuality, a friend biz. Every good experience I’ve had in the entertainment industry was because a friend either helped me get there or provided moral support when I needed it. In order to survive in this competitive business or any competitive business, you need good friends around and to believe in yourself. I’m really just typing this sentence here as a reminder to myself since I’m good at forgetting valuable lessons.
I’D RATHER EAT A DONUT THAN LOOK LIKE ONE
Did you know that Hailey Bieber—the model/wife of Justin Bieber/skin care guru— wants her skin to look like a glazed donut? I had no idea, but then again, I don’t pay too much attention to either Bieber. I found this out by reading an entertaining post from Julia Williamson’s Stack, The Sunny Side of The Street. For the record, I’d much rather eat a donut than look like one, but you know, I’m old school.
Hailey is in her twenties, so I guess wanting to resemble a sugary breakfast treat is on brand? I do understand that this is a signifier for dewy skin. I could get into a long diatribe about how modern ‘glowing’ can easily descend into shiny AF, but that’s mostly a rant and possibly not germane. Suffice to say that when I hear ‘glazed donut’, I do not immediately think ‘poreless magnificence’. (Click below to read full post.)
IN NAPOLI WHERE LOVE IS KING
Jared and I didn’t get to take a trip this summer and we don’t have any fun vacations planned at present. There’s a few reasons for staying put. For starters, Jared is in school and his time off is limited. We’ve also had to deal with some home repairs, and honestly, it’s really hard to leave our 17-year-old pup, Noodle. On an up note, however, I’ve been living vicariously through Emily’s hilarious and informative updates at The Misadventurer Stack. An American living in Spain and currently on an epic adventure in Italy, Emily’s posts always make me laugh and want to hop on a plane. Her latest post from Naples is an absolute joy to read.
Last week, I too, was in Naaaapoliiiiii. And it was lovely. I’ve heard mixed reviews of Napoli (Naples, in English). Some people say it’s too crowded and busy and dirty and the whole time you feel like you’re going to get hit by someone’s Vespa. To that I say: Is death by Vespa on the Mediterranean Coast really such a bad way to go?
Click below to read full post.
That’s all for this week. If you enjoyed any of the content here hit the ❤️ button or leave a comment. I always love hearing from you. xo H2
I'm so sorry I am just thanking you for sharing my post, Hilary. This is a gem. YOU WON! I laughed out loud at this: "I began to suspect that, like me, she was wondering what the hell she was doing on this stage. Sadly, it was too late for either one of us to flag a cab." Also, need to know everything about Lisa Kaplan.
Another excellent past! The Game Show, no words. Just great!