Reality Matters_ 19 Writers Come Clean About the Shows We Can't Stop Watching - Anna David [35]
Eric would surely have turned down Shelly’s request, but as luck would have it, Julie happened to be standing within ear-shot, and it would have been rude for Eric to refuse a request that Julie herself had clearly heard. So Eric stammered a bit and looked over at Julie, who looked back at him as if to say “Seriously?”
Eric then asked in a hushed, confused way, “I—I don’t know…Um, Julie, do you want to—” Julie put on her game face and smiled to the audience, saying she’d be happy to answer a question.
“What’s your favorite season of the show?” Shelly asked, a goofy smile spreading across her bloated face. That was her question? Really?
Julie paused for a moment, then rattled off a brief answer; it wasn’t particularly cold, but it probably didn’t leave anyone thinking she was dying to continue this discourse. Less than half a second after she finished speaking, though, the floodgates opened up. Clearly inspired by Shelly’s boldness, practically every member of the audience started assaulting her with questions.
Julie looked a bit surprised. At previous tapings, she’d never had to deal with such mania. The audience had always left her alone, in much the same way that spectators don’t ask Andy Roddick “What’s your favorite cheese?” right before he serves up a ball. Most people recognize the invisible line between audience and entertainer, and we cross it only when we’ve been specifically invited to do so. But Shelly seemed blissfully unaware of this notion. Audience and entertainer were all one tangled mess—a cohesive whole that justified a lack of deference for Julie and Eric or even herself.
Thanks to Shelly, nearly everyone in the audience had their hands in the air, like kindergartners begging to go to the bathroom. The idiotic questions abounded: “Is it true that Nick and Jen are dating?” “Are Evel Dick and Daniele on good terms now?” “Are Eric and Jessica still together?” Jesus, had these people never heard of Google?
Julie answered all the questions in stride—even the most idiotic ones—but it was clear that her focus was on the show she was about to host. It was pure torture for me, and not just because etiquette and good manners were being so thoughtlessly thrown out the window. The truth is, I’d waited years to talk to Julie Chen. But not like this, as part of some unhinged feeding frenzy. Ever since I’d started watching Big Brother, I’d been fascinated by her robotic delivery. I wrote about it on my blog, often referring to her as “The Chenbot,” and the more I discussed her, the more enamored I became. How could I have disdain for a woman who entertained me so thoroughly? At one point, I went so far as to create a video compilation of her saying the phrase “But first,” an utterance she delivered multiple times an episode, often in the exact same pitch and tone. Through the magic of the Internet, the video caught on, and suddenly Entertainment Weekly was declaring “But First” Julie’s official catch phrase. Next thing I knew, people were showing up at The Early Show (her main gig) wearing T-shirts that said CHENBOT and BUT FIRST. Critics who once assailed Julie for her wooden delivery now saw the campy fun of it all. Even she seemed cool with it, and for the first time, she began showing more signs of personality and humor.
As Julie had fun with her new image, my friends urged me to find some way to get on the Early Show so I could meet Julie myself. Surely she’d want to meet the guy who’d made “But First” a catchphrase. It would be a riot! Everyone would love it!
These were my more open-minded friends, of course—the ones who, during the summer months when Big Brother airs, gather around the TV with me, watching live feeds of the contestants for upward of two or three hours at a time. We don’t mind sitting in the living room, ogling other people as they get drunk or fight or make out. It’s such a pleasant alternative to actually going out and meeting real people. Los Angeles can be brutal on that front,