Me on The Weakest Link from Ernie Hsiung on Vimeo.

I’m the blond girl in the flowery dress. Ha ha, just kidding.

But Ernie, you say. It’s 2008 and this was years ago. Why now? Sixty percent of the motivation is because the movie file was on a VERY old laptop I don’t use anymore – whereas in 2003 I had to host the file, embed the file, and not guarantee the movie will play properly due to your settings. Now everything is centralized and people embed video without second thought.

As for the other 40 percent: pure vanity – why fight it? I’d like to think that if I were suddenly to disappear from his earth tomorrow I’d like to be remembered, that there would be digital evidence that I had actually existed somewhere. And what better evidence than millions of zeroes and ones, forming the shape of me answering the question of “what is 9 x 5″ on national television?

(And to Tom, who recorded the episode for me a long, long time ago: Thank you. I owe you a beer.)

Well, thank god for the power of the Internet, because now I can humiliate myself still, syndicated television show be damned.

Here is what made it on the air:

George Gray, game show host: When there’s a tie, the strongest link casts the deciding vote… and the strongest link for this round is…
Ernie’s conscience: Please don’t talk to me yet. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. I’m not r—
GG: … Ernie!

Ernie: Hey.
GG: So Ernie, what do you do?
E: I’m a web developer.

Now here is what was edited out. Nothing is exaggerated:

GG: They still have web developers? You didn’t work in one of those dot-coms, didya?
E: Yeah, I did.
GG: You got laid off, didn’t you?
E: Yep. When I wrote about it on my weblog, a bunch of friends made a mock-telethon page and I got a thousand bucks out of it.
GG: …
E: …?
GG: A weblock? A weblah?
E: A weblog. It’s kind of.. uhm… hrm. It’s kind of like a personal…
Ernie’s conscience: Don’t say diary. Don’t say diary. For the love of god, don’t say diary.
E: …diary.
Ernie’s conscience: fuck.
GG: … oh. Uhmm, that’s cool, I… guess.
E: Uh, it’s not like I’m putting up naked pictures of myself or anything.
Random audience member: EEEEW!!
Ernie’s conscience: double fuck.

Okay, let me interrupt here for a second: some bitch said “Eeew.” Not just “Eeew,” mind you, but this ghetto-fabulous “ooh nuh uh that is NOT my baby’s mama” EEEEEW. Keep in mind these audience members are getting paid $9 an hour to dress up in a black t-shirt, sit quietly behind the contestants and SHUT THE FUCK UP. I swear to God, I had thoughts of ripping out that giant clear plastic box I was standing on to make myself look a foot taller, wander out to the audience area and turn “The Weakest Link” into “A Very Special Physical Violence Episode of The Weakest Link.”

This, however, would not have gotten me on television. I shifted uncomfortably and after a half-assed threat from the producer that any obnoxious audience behavior will not be tolerated, the conversation resumes.

GG: Do you have anything else interesting I should know about you?
Ernie’s conscience: If you have any dignity left, you will say no.
E: No.
GG: … no? *rolls eyes* Fine, I’m done with you.

And now, you know. (By the way, if anyone out there lives in San Francisco who can convert television shows to MPEG format, e-mail me pronto.)

So, in case you didn’t catch the episode — I made it to the final round, make it to sudden death, and then I get asked this question:

The Host: “Ernie: What member of OJ Simpsons Prosecution Trial was in an issue of People Magazine’s 50 best dressed list?”
Ernie: (Fuck! It’s Marcia… Marcia…)
Ernie’s Internal Monologue: Say Brady, bitch. It’s Marcia Brady. Marcia Brady Marcia Brady Marcia Brady.
Ernie: (Marcia…)
Ernie’s Internal Monologue: SAY IT, BITCH! SAY MARCIA BRADY!
Ernie: (out loud) I don’t know.
The Host: No. Marcia Clark.
Ernie: Fuck me.

Some other notes about the show that I can finally write about now:

• You know at the end of the show, how they say “Ernie, you leave with nothing?” They really mean that. No board-game, no rice-a-roni, no fabulous set of silverware. Just the opportunity to get humiliated by the public, which already occurs to me on a daily basis, no thanks to this weblog.

• I’ve had two people e-mail me that they seen me on television, and added a little addendum: my voice is high. Yes, I know my voice is high. It’s gay and it’s high and I talk like a valley girl. I get calls by telemarkers and people call me “ma’am” even after I say that my name is ERNEST. Laugh. Laugh away at my pain.

• Additional note from my friend Mike (who took those two pictures that you see): “You have a big head.” I have nothing to say to that one.

• Another thing that’s completely edited on the show? The post-game interview. They will ask you six or seven questions about how you did, you answer them and they put your best response to the question. They also, uhm, encourage embellishments.

  TWL Staff Member: You’re crushed that you lost in the final round, aren’t you?
  Ernie: Eh, it’s alright, I guess. I mean, it’s only $4,500! I live in Oakland, that will pay for, what, fifteen days of rent?
  TWLSM: Okay, that’s not good for television. Say how you were gonna use that money for rent, and how you had been laid off from the dot-coms. For the camera.
  Ernie: (rolls eyes) “Eh, I could have used the money on rent.” How’s that?
  TWLSM: Now, act 150 times gayer and flip your hair.
  Ernie: What?
  TWLSM: You heard me.
  Ernie: (sighs) “EEEW, I COULD HAVE TOTTTALLLY USED THAT MONEY FOR RENT, CUZ I WAS, LIKE, A DOT-COMMER, YOU KNOW? BUT I, LIKE, TOTALLY BLEW IT!”
  TWLSM: That’s better.

There are more stories, but those are for another day. I was completely humiliated on national television but I don’t have a regret in the world. Maybe I’ll apply for Survivor now. (God help us.)

Mom: (Between bites of pot roast and scrambled eggs with shrimp) I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you doing anything else besides working and staying at home?
Ernie: Not really. Oh wait, that’s not true at all. I was on a game show a month or two ago. I’ll be on television some time before February, hopefully.
Mom: (Not looking up) Oh. Which one?
Ernie: The Weakest Link. They have a version of that show in Taiwan, I think.
Mom: Mm. So, did you win or lose?

Now, this puts me in a quandary — while I told my mom the result of the game (c’mon now, she’s my mother) I’m still not allowed to discuss whether I won or lost publically until the episode airs on television. One of these snippets of conversation actually happened, but trust me, if the opposite had occured, the conversation would have gone the other way as well.

Scenerio 1: Ernie lost on the Weakest Link
Ernie: I didn’t win, Ma.
Mom: You didn’t win? Ernie, you should have read more books and magazines. READ MORE BOOK! You should try out for the show again, and this time you need to WIN.
Ernie: I’m not allowed to, Ma.
Mom: *sighs in disgust*

Scenerio 2: Ernie won on the Weakest Link
Ernie: I won, Ma.
Mom: Oh! How much?
Ernie: [Ernie tells her how much he won]
Mom: THAT’S IT? YOU TOOK OFF THREE DAYS FROM WORK TO WIN THAT MUCH? You could have made money WORKING those three days, but instead you fly to Los Angeles and go on a game show?! *sighs in disgust*

Either way, I think I ended the conversation with the phrase “Hey Mom, it’s time for you to go now.”

Okay, okay. It’s not all a sham. But here’s the deal — it takes anywhere from 90 minutes to two full hours to tape a half an hour show. The majority of the time spent on taping is for the typical quiz stuff, talking with the host (a LOT gets cut in the editing process) and so on. And then you gotta tape the stock footage.

What stock footage, you ask? Well, you know the part of the show where you see people voting each other off? And then the host comes back on the screen and goes “Okay, voting over! Let’s see who everyone voted for?” We’re not actually voting at that moment. After we finish the round, they turn the cameras off, we write our votes down. Then, the camera comes back on and for thirty or so seconds, we pretend to be writing for the person we were voting off — usually, for this extended period of time I’m pretending to write a long sentence, something like “THE QUICK BROWN JUMPS OVER THE LAZY DOG” or “MR. GAME SHOW HOST’S FACIAL HAIR SCARES ME, DADDY.” George, the host, then returns on screen, says “voting over,” and we all get Emmys for our acting skills.

But wait, it gets better.

While the show is taping, George Gray doesn’t actually tells us the rules to play the game like he usually does on the start of each episode on television. We already know how to play the game and that would take too much time. Instead, they take stock footage of us listening attentively and smiling and it comes together in editing. It’s harder than it looks.

Stage Director: Okay, contestant #3, I need listening and smiling shots. GO!
Ernie: (stares blankly at camera, like a deer frozen in headlights.)
SD: You’re listening… you’re listening… and now… smile!
Ernie: (kind of looks around and raises the corners of his mouth out of sheer will.)
SD: Not bad, not bad. Now, I’ll need you to do that four more times.

(Fifteen minutes later…)

SD: Contestant #3, listening and smiling shots version five, listen… NOW.
Ernie: (leans forward, cocks his head to the side, nods. The “I’m at a cocktail party and every single word you utter will cure my baby’s cancer” look.)
SD: and now… smile!
Ernie: (suddenly leans back, sighs. The “I drank a gallon of water and was suddenly relieving myself on stage” look. The audience snickers.)
SD: Eh. Fine, we’ll just use that shot.

Now let’s see if they edit my conversation with George out. If they make me the mute Chinese boy, I’ll be pissed.

I would love to tell you how I did on the The Weakest Link (yes, I made it onto the show! whoo!) but there is a $350,000 lawsuit saying that I’m not allowed to publically disclose whether I won or lost until the show is on the air. That can be anytime from mid-November to some time in February. Until then, I’m left to write about other amusing things about syndicated television. Just not now, at 6:30 in the morning.

Okay, okay. One small hint: I’m on for the entire episode — all 30 minutes. I’m not disclosing anymore. That is all.

Earlier this weekend, a staffer from the show called me, like they did all the other people in the contestant pool.

The Weakest Link Staff Member: So, we’re looking for an amusing story — something the host can use to make fun of you between rounds.
Ernie: Okay.
TWLSM: Where did you go for school?
Ernie: UC Davis. Computer Science Engineering major.
TWLSM: You travel anywhere interesting?
Ernie: Uhmm. China. Taiwan. Went on a business trip to France when I was working at a dotcom.
TWLSM: Hrm. Okay, these are kinda dry. It says here on your application that you go raving and clubbing a lot. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?
Ernie: Uhmm. Actually, I don’t go raving too much anymore. Craziest thing I’ve seen? One time I was at the End Up and when I went to the bathroom I ran into three guys getting it on in the men’s stall. But it’s like, you know, the End Up, so that goes on every week, and…
TWLSM: …
Ernie: That’s not going to work for daytime television, is it?
TWLSM: No.

So I ended up telling them the story about Ernie-Aid. Hopefully that will appease them. (Actually, typing this weblog entry out I could tell them the time I almost got married in China. Dad probably wouldn’t take that very well, though. Oh, by the way — Hi dad. Uhmm.. I’m going to be on a game show. Tell Mom for me. Thanks.)

I have to bring four changes of clothes, where the producers of the show will probably make a bunch of fat comments behind my back and suggest something in “slimming vertical stripes.” Probably.

Looking at the studio guidelines, I’m not allowed to wear polka dots or checkers. That’s fine by me. Unfortunately, you’re also not to wear: solid black, solid white, solid red or anything with a logo or slogan. And since my clothes consist of graphic t-shirts, my whole wardrobe has been thrown out the window. I can wear a suit, but I’m really not a suit guy, and they want something that “shows your personality,” but not enough personality where you may be deemed unfit for syndicated television. Maybe now I’ll be able to wear my wifebeater shirt with my fuzzy fur coat, gold chains and sunglasses! “I LIVE FOR THIS SHIT!” (Sorry. That was a bad movie reference.)

Here’s a tip if anyone you know is going to apply for a gameshow — don’t barrage them with trivia questions. Since they’re gonna be on a gameshow, of course they’re going to try to answer the questions. It’s like studying. But for the love of god, at least try to be supportive if they get one or two wrong.

Friend: Weakest Link, eh? Cool. What year did the Challenger explode?
Ernie: 1986.
Friend: WHAT COMPANY SLOGANIZED “NOTHING SAYS LOVIN’ LIKE SOMETHIN’ FROM THE OVEN?!”
Ernie: Uhmm… uhh… Pillbury!
Friend: WHAT DOES C-SPAN STAND FOR, YOU FOOL?!
Ernie: Uhmm… C-C-Congress…
Friend: CABLE SATELLITE PUBLIC AFFAIRS NETWORK, YOU IDIOT! YOU ARE THE WEAKEST LINK! YOU ARE A FAILURE TO YOUR FAMILY AND TO ASIAN AMERICANS EVERYWHERE! G’BYE!!
Ernie: (reaches for a seppuku knife and tries to disembowel myself.)

Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration. Point being, if I wanted this much strife, I’d go home to my parents house over Thanksgiving.

So, remember how I auditioned to be on The Weakest Link a year ago? And then again six months later? Well, I’m picking up my friend David up from the train station when I get a call on my cellphone…

(Ernie hangs up the cellphone. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost.)

Ernie: That was the casting directors from The Weakest Link. They want me to be on the show.
David: Wait, wait, wait. With that bitchy Anne Whatsherface chick? I thought that show got cancelled.
Ernie: It did. They want me to be on the daytime syndicated version of the show. With the gay guy in the turtleneck.
David: Oh. That’s it?

(If there was an emoticon for “bitch, get out my car, you’re walking your ass home,” I would gladly display it here.)

David: I’m kidding! Heehee. (Damn freak.)

So yeah, they’re flying me down September 3rd. Hopefully I’ll do as well as another blogger we know and love. Is there anyone in the LA area that wants to hang out on a Tuesday or Wednesday night? Party at the Universal Hilton!

(If it sounds like I’m bragging, this is to prepare myself to ultimately be voted off in the very first round. Five minutes on syndicated daytime television is better than none at all, I say.)