When my first child was born, my former husband and I were living in Laguna Beach.  Life was idyllic.

One day, while nursing my child, I had Family Feud on.  Yes Family Feud.  Yes, the show with Richard Dawson who kissed all the girls.

Family Feud needed families from the LA area and they needed them NOW.  My mind began churning. I recruited my reluctant family to at least go and try out for the show.

5 of us headed to the golden hills of LA.  Let’s just say…if you had an IQ in the very low triple digits, you made it on the show. We auditioned against a family whose father had been so obviously forced to be there, when he was asked a question like “Name a kitchen utensil”, he would sigh, shrug his shoulders, and say, “I don’t know…whatever.” They didn’t get picked.

We did, despite the answer my brother-in-law gave when the question was, “What do you do with your children before you put them to bed?”  His answer was “Give them cookies”. 

The day of the BIG SHOW finally arrived.  Thoughts of the lightning round and winning thousands were spinning through my mind.  Not to mention all the fame and glory that would soon be coming our way.

Before the show, the women were interrogated to make sure we had no colds, cold sores, fevers or any other kind of potentially fatal disease Richard Dawson might contract after planting a big wet one on us.

Yes, this means, that RICHARD DAWSON’S LIPS HAVE TOUCHED MINE!

Suddenly, we were on stage and my husband nailed the first question and we were pumped.  I nailed the second one and the points were adding up.  We were winning so quickly, Richard Dawson had some time to waste so he asked me how I had met my husband.

Here I was in all my christian repressed wife glory—short permed hair, red ruffled shirt with matching red shoes (I am not making this up), and appropriately conservative beige swishy skirt.

“Um, well, I met my husband at a dorm dance in college.  He asked me to dance and we were dancing, there was mud and beer all over the floor, and then he dropped me.  Yes, he dropped me and I fell right on my ….ummmm, right on my …..

I was searching for the word tush.    I was trying to be witty, a little coy.  Tush was the word I wanted to say.

“Yes, Richard I fell…right on my DOUCHE.  Yes…DOUCHE!”

Why was the audience laughing?  Why was Richard Dawson’s jaw dropped to the ground?  Why was my husband saying that I had been a linguistic major?   I knew I had not been a linguistics major.  Why aren’t these people getting it?  So I said, it again, this time with loud conviction:  “DOUCHE!  DOUCHE!”

Suddenly through the pandemonium, I could see Richard Dawson leaning forward, and saying, “I believe the word you want to say is TUSH”.  You could see the color rise on my face to the point my face matched my bright red blouse perfectly.

“Oh yes!  TUSH!  TUSH!”  My hands on my hot face, the audience howling, me sputtering, “Well, you get the general idea.”  Richard Dawson’s quick response, “Yes, I get MORE than the general idea.  In fact you told me more about that mud and beer dropping incident than I ever cared to know!”

Being distracted by humiliation and that familiar middle school feeling when you’ve been publicly teased, I had to spit out some kind of answer to the question (Name a food that is breaded).  I was out of my game, I was distracted.  I quietly mumbled, “Well, Richard, I would have to say “steak”.  XXXXXXXXX!!!  It all went downhill after that and we sadly lost.  Never even made it to the lightning round.

However, we did win a carton of toothpaste, a vacuum cleaner and some winter gloves (perfect for the southern California climate).

When it was aired 5 weeks later, they conveniently aired a Massengill Douche commercial right before my blooper segment.  Seriously.

Later that fall, Mike and I were at the famous Laguna Beach Festival of the Arts.  It was nighttime and dark and we had stopped to rest on a bench.  The woman sitting next to us was extremely inebriated.  After a bit, she leaned over and got right up in our faces.  Then she pointed her finger at me.

“Weren’t you on Family Feud a month ago and said that you fell on your DOUCHE!”  She began laughing rolling over holding her stomach.

My 15 minutes of fame had turned into my 15 minutes of shame.

I hate game shows.

Mary