Jun Dishes

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Picking My Big Brother 4 Bed


PIcking up where we left off, right before Julie instructed the first eight of us to enter the Big Brother 4 house

Standing there on the end of the step next to Jack I was mildly hyperventilating, but once Julie addressed us I felt all-of-a-sudden calmer. It’s finally begun I’d thought. Julie’s robotic voice made it real in an instant.


The strap on my Big Brother duffel bag dug into my shoulder, because I’d stupidly stuffed it too heavy with bath products. I’d brought my own bath stuff from home because I didn’t trust what CBS might provide for us in the house. I should have put my shampoos and conditioners in my suitcase and not my duffel, but I didn’t. D’oh. I nearly lost circulation in my shoulder because of my BB duffel bag, but more importantly Julie was giving us instructions on how to enter the house.


“In a few minutes you will enter the house in three separate groups. Once inside you’ll find 3 bedrooms each with its own distinct accommodations. You will have one minute to choose your beds. But each member of your group must choose a bed in a different room of the house. Make your choice carefully.”

Would I have to fight someone for a bed? Would I have to share one? These questions drilled holes in my brain right away. I really didn’t want to have to run or break into a sweat just to be able to sleep in a bed.  I decided I wouldn’t run and I wouldn’t worry too much about a stupid bed. Choosing a bed was the least of my problems this summer.

“The first one to enter the house are Scott, David, Nathan.”

Chenbot had spoken again, and the three guys were off into the house in search of a bed. Meanwhile outside, the rest of us were standing around and still not allowed to communicate with each other. I remembering wanting Julie to call my name next because I didn’t want to miss out on what was going on inside the house. The three youngest guys were in there together alone and I didn’t like that.

“…Jun, Erika, Alison.”

Yes! Chenbot had called my name. I entered the front door with Erika and Ali leaving Dana and Jack outside alone. I was in!

The inside of the house and everything in it looked like the inside of any other house, albeit a little too colorful. Without the intense lighting everywhere and big black bulky cameras in every corner, it felt like a house. Normal houses didn’t have double-sided mirrors lining every wall, but the Big Brother house was no normal house. As far as the smell…it didn’t smell like a house. Every home has a distinct odor to it, but the BB house had none. I didn’t let it bother me. In some part of my brain I knew that I was basically living in a box on the lot of Studio City, but it had to become home to me if I was going to win. I’d felt a sick rush of excitement.  I was about to get to know the rest of the house, and I looked forward to using them all to my advantage.

When I first got in the house I went the wrong way into the bathroom area, and felt pretty stupid. I then quickly realized my error had given Erika and Alison enough time to claim beds for themselves. I ended up in the bedroom with two double beds with Nathan. It was surreal that right away even choosing a bed was so controlled.

I knew Dana and Jack would be entering the house right after me, and I expected Dana to share my bed with me. I was right. I remember Jack came into the bedroom Nathan and I were sitting in, and he basically ran away from us. I thought it odd that Jack would prefer to sleep on burlap with stinky turtles with David and Erika, but that room had a door. Privacy from other HGs. I thought it was a bad move, because privacy can make people paranoid about why you need privacy in the first place. It made sense though after hearing Jack and David both had a military background, that they’d choose the barracks over down comforters. Erika confounded me.

The Big Brother house makes you double-think everything. Then add re-thinking everything again with a heaping side of paranoia, and that’s your average state on any given day in the BB house. Insane.

Which bed you’re sleeping in should be the least of your problems in the BB house.

Always dishing,


Big Brother Alum


I’m thankful I was on Big Brother so many years ago, because I wouldn’t want to go on the show now. I don’t know if I could ever go back on the show again (Update: Here Goes Nothing). For a while I thought I would, given the right amount of compensation from CBS, but no. I wouldn’t put my friends and family through the hassle, and I don’t want to be remembered for going on the show anytime after this current season. Big Brother is becoming less and less CBS, and more MTV.

When they were casting for All-Stars in 2007 I was flown out to LA and I met with the gang at CBS again. I’d lost my dad to kidney failure in 2004, and my mother had tried to take her life as a result in 2005. I sat there with the producers and I answered their questions about what’s new and how does a second season of Big Brother sound to me. I felt like I was in a cave most of the interview, and I felt disconnected from reality. I was an emotional wreck since winning BB, but nobody knew it.

I answered all the producers’ questions but they knew my heart wasn’t in it. I’d already returned to work in banking since winning my season, and I’d also been running a little side business. I was focused on making money and running away from having to deal with death and depression in my family. Going back on Big Brother was not the right move for me. All-Stars happened without me, but I did judge a Food Competition that season with Marvin and Nicole. That was enough for me.


Since All-Stars I’ve stayed in touch with many people still on the Big Brother team, even after moving to Belgium and starting a family of my own. It’s their job to keep in touch with BB alum. CBS always has a way of tracking you down somehow even if the rest of us think you’ve gone MIA. It’s their job. For all those who think CBS doesn’t keep tabs on BB alum to use them if ever there comes a time, for anything, you’re wrong. They do. It’s their job, even for dinosaurs like me. Dinosaurs can be coaches too.

Their jobs must be getting harder in recent seasons with all the death threats and FBI-calling. I’m thankful my season was so long ago when less was at our vicious fingertips. I remember my cousin Miran, who was barely a teenager, had watched my season from home and ventured online to a Big Brother forum. In the forum I was being torn apart by rabid fans who hated me, and naive little Miran attempted to defend me. Quite innocently Miran thought that letting internet trolls know that she was related to me, and that she could vouch for me, would help support me.


Miran was chased off the forum crying, and traumatized. Growing up in a sheltered suburb of Delaware, Miran had never been accused of being “probably a lesbian who eats Jun’s pussy” or the like. I felt horrible. I still feel bad, but it’s funny to us now. That really was mild compared to 10 years later, today.

The internet is a wondrous place, but it’s also a clogged drain of anonymous hate to an extreme degree when it comes to Big Brother. It’s the reason I stopped watching Big Brother 15 and I know I did the right thing because my summer’s been peaceful. This is the first summer in years that I haven’t had my life threatened, or my family threatened, and my distancing myself from Big Brother has been better all-around.

I say I’d never go back on the show because nowadays some fans take it so far that people losing their livelihoods is not enough. Threats of rape and torture and death, and harassment of all kinds and outlets, has become the norm in recent Big Brother seasons. No amount of money or thirst for fame could ever make me get close to any of that, even if I know I’d win if I ever got back in the Big Brother house. I know I would, but it wouldn’t be worth my family having to have to go into hiding for months for their own sake.

It’s not easy to turn off the hate when it’s coming at you consistently in the public. Ignoring it is harder than you’d think, even though it’s the easiest thing to say. Some Big Brother alum choose to stick around and interact with fans while others drop their Big Brother experience and return to life. Some do both, and some do it better than others and for different reasons. The more you’re in the public eye, the more everything.

There’s a lot wrong with people who go into the Big Brother house, but they’re exponentially outnumbered by the lots going wrong with fans outside the Big Brother house. Fan rage escalates every year. How far can it go?

Always dishing,


Where I Was for The 2003 VMAs…


I walked the red carpet at the MTV Video Music Awards in 2003, and got interviewed live with a huge bodyguard standing behind me. I thought I was dramatic, but there were bodyguards and bulky security everywhere that day. What the hell was I doing there?

I remember everything about getting to feel like a celebrity for a day. What I remember most is how rushed I felt the entire time, during the whole experience. Winning Big Brother 4 that summer is still surreal to me, but winning HOH at the right time and getting to fly to my hometown of NYC and walk the red carpet with real stars is unreal.

With five of us still remaining in the Big Brother 4 house, I’d won HOH for the first time. I wanted to win it, and somehow I did because it was a memory-based competition. After celebrating hysterically about my win I was instructed to report to the Diary Room. Once in the DR, I was told by Chenbot that I’d also won a reward in addition to my HOH reign. My jaw dropped open when she told me it was a trip to the VMAs. Chenbot then told me to put on some blindfold sitting there next to me, but all I was thinking was that I was leaving the house. I was going back home!

I couldn’t see a thing, and I felt stupid wearing a blindfold. Then Chenbot’s voice came back and told me to “open the door.” What the fuck door was she talking about? The door I came in?!

I struggled and eventually found a knob and opened the “secret door” used by production to get in the DR when they need to. My point is, I made a complete fool of myself groping blindly in the diary room and I hope Julie Chen was laughing. I would have laughed.

I was then guided, still blindfolded, down a hall eventually out some heavy door. I knew I was outside and probably in the parking lot outside the BB house right where I’d stood the very first day I entered the house. I heard a few voices and one voice in particular I found comfort in. Shawn’s. Shawn was the backbone and rock of my Big Brother season and other seasons, and she was like the mama bear while Robyn Kass was cheering squad.

I was whisked into a limo, and then and only then could I remove my blindfold. Shawn was in the limo with me and I shrieked while I hugged her, and I was thrilled that she’d personally be making the trip to NYC with me. We got to the airport and I was rushed into a bathroom like a hostage, and I had to change out of my bright pink “live show” dress and into incognito mode. CBS wanted to be sure I wasn’t recognize by anyone at the gate, or in public in general.

Shawn had handed me an outfit to wear, including comfy flip-flops, sunglasses and a baseball cap that I had to wear asap. Thankfully all the clothes were a size bigger than my original size walking into the house, because I’d been stress-eating for nearly two months. We checked-in and sat in one of the plusher lounges at LAX and I had to keep my head down the whole time. I didn’t get to read a paper or magazine, and I was not allowed near a television as we waited to board. To my left and right in that lounge were real celebrities on their way to the VMAs, to be an actual part of the VMAs. I flew with Ryan Seacrest and André 3000, and Tara Reid too, and I was barfing every few minutes because Shawn had not packed any Dramamine for me. Air sickness may one day kill me, and I thought on that first class flight to NYC I would die from barfing and never make it to my red carpet interview.

We got to New York and checked-in into our Times Square hotel, and I realized it was just like when I was sequestered before the start of my season. I had no access to television or internet or telephone, and I couldn’t leave my hotel room and I was home. Home, but so far away. So dramatic, but I did get made-up and touched-up from top to bottom on CBS’s dime. From my Calvin Klein panties to my lovely Diane von Fürstenberg dress, I was happy and my hair and makeup were done just before I got escorted out of the hotel again. When we got outside we had to film my getting in the limo and riding in the limo and getting out of the limo, and it was ridiculously organized and planned. It was nothing like reality yet reality television.

While I stood and waited for my big red carpet interview, I watched Jessica Simpson in her white suit walk by me with Nick. I was in awe of Christina Aguilera just a few feet away from me, even if she was wearing only feathers. I loved the the adorable group of gay boys getting so much attention from reporters, but I had no idea who they were. They were the Fab 5 from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, and their first season had started airing when I went into the BB house. I watched religiously for years after, and I loved most their earlier seasons.

There were Big Brother fans lined up on the streets around Rockefeller Center leading to Radio City Music Hall, scattered among every other fan of every other star walking the red carpet. Shawn and our bodyguards and small production crew made sure nobody talked to me or got close enough to me to tell me anything, most of all BB fans. It all felt like some spy movie. I was not to get any information from anyone, and I wasn’t even allowed to really acknowledge any BB fans in the vast audience because some of them were holding signs. God forbid I read a BB-related sign. 

I had my big red carpet interview and I screamed my answers like a lunatic and it was over. The photos aren’t good quality because it was 10 years ago, but I have the original film footage and that’s enough for me. I was so loud.



It was odd. I felt like a “nobody” all of a sudden thrust into an MTV flesh arena, and I actually missed the BB house just a little bit. I’d never trade the experience though, because I stood in the pit when Dave Navarro performed that night. My hand was next to his ass when he opened his act. The whole thing was surreal. Madonna and Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera kissed, and I was on sensory overload. I was also being pushed around by hundreds of teeny-boppers in the pit, crashing into me. My feet were pained and hating me.


At one point a young girl threw herself at me before Shawn could stop her.

“You’re Jun and you’re here! Oh my god Jun I love you!”

I thanked the sweet fangirl as she was pulled away from me, and that was it. Party was over for me because a BB fan had talked to me, even if it was just to say she loved me. I was pushed through the crowds and down back halls and stairs, and then we were outside on Fifth Avenue where our limo awaited. I was rushed into the limo as if rogue BB fans would attack me, and I was taken back to my hotel room.

I went back into the house after all the craze, and I was blindfolded for some part of it again. I hated that stupid blindfold and I kept it as a souvenir of my summer in the BB house. I’ve kept a lot of my Big Brother memorabilia from my season. I’m no hoarder, but I consider my red carpet passes and badges from the VMAs very special. That whole summer was special.

This summer is special for me too, and not because of Big Brother.

What a difference 10 years makes.

Always dishing,



Forever Weight Loss


I was never obese enough to trigger health concerns, but I was always plump most of my childhood. My parents used food to make me happy. I use food to make others happy now.

When I entered junior high school I was fat. In high school and college I was still fat. Right up until a few year before I entered the Big Brother house in 2003 I was pretty much fat, having hit my peak at 192 pounds in 1999. My size never stopped me from entering contests or playing piano in a gospel band, or leading my senior class in high school as Class President. My confidence was never shattered because my body was thicker than someone else’s.

I guess I was just living in a state of pleasant plumpness.

Yesterday I got asked:


The first time I ever really did something towards weight loss I was 23 years old, and I’d ballooned up to those 192 pounds. I got there after discovering weed when I moved out of my parents’ home at 19. I smoked every day and ate whatever I wanted as late as I wanted, and I never worked out so of course I gained weight. The first year I smoked I got the munchies like an exorcism, and I was making good money so I ate extravagantly. Oink.

The second year into my marijuana discovery I slowed down everything a little bit, but got to my peak weight and hated it. I wasn’t necessarily ashamed of it, but I knew I couldn’t keep gaining weight at that rate. So I dragged my fat Korean ass to my doctor and asked to be put on a weight loss program. My career and love life, both, had hit a point where I had to give a little gas to make better things happen. It was an easy decision for me to start taking better care of my body. I know it isn’t for everyone.

I never had surgery or took any pills, and simply followed a 3-month program of healthy eating and exercise to “cleanse” my system. In those 3 months I nearly died a few times, dramatically of course, because I wasn’t accustomed to strict diet or real cardio. The first two weeks seemed like I was on a fast of lettuce and beans, but thankfully I didn’t have to work out very much while getting guidance from my doctor.

I drop two pounds the first month, and hated everybody from the girl jogging down the street to the guy eating a burger at lunch. I kept going because I knew how lame I’d look giving up a month in, and so when I dropped seven pounds the second month I was relieved I hadn’t given up on the program. I had given up all my hot and cheesy breakfasts and stuck to yogurt and fruit and dry toasts. Lunches were always salads with a healthy protein and sometimes soup. It was no more takeout dinners and instead steamed this and that with plenty of vegetables.

Month three turned out even better results and I was actually enjoying exercise for the first time in my fat life, and my doctor told me I could once again eat some junk every once in a while but in moderation. I continued with the healthy eating and working out. My boyfriend at the time, Jee, and I went on vacation to celebrate and I got called a “fat tub whale” in the pool by a little boy at our hotel. So much for all the progress I had made because that random kid crushed me with his one comment. A kid!

When I returned from fat tub whale vacation I started eating less and working out more. This resulted in my fainting a few times, once on the F train into Manhattan during morning rush hour with Whitney Houston blaring in my ears as I drifted in and out of consciousness. My fellow F-trainers had pulled my lifeless body out onto the platform at the next stop, and I was whisked off to the emergency room. To this day I can’t listen to back-to-back Whitney because it reminds me of that morning.

I realized in the hospital bed that day that I was developing an eating disorder trying to run on as little food as possible while I worked out twice a day. I was 108 pounds that day I fainted on the F train. It was my lowest weight as an adult, and it scared me.

After that incident but before I entered the Big Brother house years later, I was at healthier weights depending on what was going on in my life. I stress-ate in between boyfriends and break-ups. Somewhere in the 130s I remained for years, and when I went on Big Brother 4 I was in the 120s. I left the BB house $500,000 richer and nearly 20 pounds heavier. I stress-ate. I got made fun of, and still get made fun of for it.

If you put yourself on television, then you’re going to be made fun of.

Leaving the house I was tanned and brown and fuller everywhere from my face to ankles, but I didn’t care. I’d won, and I’d return home richer and more motivated to get a gym membership to work my fat ass off. It’s been like that since I left the BB house. I fluctuate the same ten pounds every year, except the year I was pregnant.

I poke fun at people’s weight gain on Big Brother and poke fun at people’s weight loss on Survivor. I’m not an expert on topics of weight, but I will tell you it can’t be easy for GinaMarie right now. If her stories of bulimia are true, then she is probably struggling under the cameras and microphones each day…just like she probably struggles in real life.

Always dishing,



Entering the Big Brother House


I sat in a trailer parked on the lot at Studio City before I actually entered the “set” of the Big Brother house, my season. I remember sitting in the small but clean space of the trailer and staring at the mirror incessantly, and drinking a LOT of water. I took deep breaths knowing I was about to give up my freedom for a chance at half-a-million dollars. Before I was mic’d up to go in, Robyn Kass knocked on my door and came in to the trailer. We hugged and she got me hyped up all over again that I was about to finish what I started during the casting process. Robyn and I took a photo together, which we still each have a copy of and sincerely cherish, and then she was off. I figured she was doing the same thing with every HG and I wondered who I’d be sharing the BB house with.

I had no idea at the time that it would be with my ex-boyfriend Jee….

A few minutes later it was show time, and I was herded onto the set…to the “faux” exterior of the BB house, where I stood for this photo…

We stood for this photo…



We were instructed not to make eye contact or talk to each other while posing, which was incredibly awkward. Facing in front of us were bright lights and cameras and microphones, and lots of producers. Organized chaos.

I didn’t know their names yet, but I recognized Jack and Nathan from my week at finals casting in LA. Finalists were always broken up into groups by sex, and the groups traveled in packs for meals and gym time, etc., under supervision of a “handler.” I knew Jack and Nathan had been in the same group because I’d seen them marching by single file quite a few times when my group of five ladies were lounging by the pool or eating lunch, etc… Nathan seemed cold but Jack seemed very warm, and from behind my sunglasses I watched them walk around the hotel.

We were never ever allowed to talk to each other or even make eye contact with any of the other finalists, whether they were in your group or not, but it’s not like I was going to gouge my eyes out if I happened to turn my head and see someone.

I remembered Scott too because even at finals in the dry LA heat, he wore his knit hats. It was always odd seeing “the skinny dude” before I knew his name, sitting on the terrace in the blazing sun with a wool or whatever mini-cardigan he wore as a hat. So when I saw Scott on the steps of the house with me, about to enter the house, I laughed inside because I knew the hats would make me crazy. I’d also remembered and liked Dana right away when I accidentally met eyes with her once during finals. I say accidentally because some dude talking loudly on his brand-new bluetooth ear thing was sitting by us, and Dana and I happened to look up when the douchebag was shouting.

Both Dana and i looked sharply away. All the finalists were watched by hawks with different sets of eyes at all times, and we were warned we would go home if we were caught violating the rules of the casting process. I was all about following the rules. Of course I’m dramatic but it did all feel like a mini-drama to me, and I hated having to deliberately avoid four other grown women who were vying for my key into the Big Brother house in the final rounds..

My douchebag story has a point because bluetooth guy was sitting between me and Dana, and there were plenty of other “regular” hotel guests there with the BB crew. Most people were there with their kids to check out Universal City just a walk away, or film whatever local porn they were on location for…whatever. It’s not like CBS shut down the Sheraton for BB finals casting, so it really was odd sharing the elevator with people who had no idea there was anything going on.

So Dana and I shared a douchebag experience and without words it created a bond between us, and then when we learned we were both from New York it was an instant connection. It wasn’t our fault how we’d been seated at breakfast during finals. So as Julie told us to check each other out I looked most forward to meeting Jack and Dana.

Erika just rubbed me the wrong way immediately and I can only chalk it up to mismatched menstrual moon cycles, but of course I envied her emaciated tummy. She never ate much from what I saw at the hotel…I also hated her for her perfect but so fake breasts. I was so judgmental, and I still am. I’m working on it.

I thought Alison was so cute but vanilla, and I loved her short short skirt even though Dana thought it was too short. I didn’t sense at all the menacing terror Ali would turn out be, on that first day. She fooled me. David was attractive but very hard to read standing there on the steps but he was a joker, unlike Nathan who turned out to be as slow as I thought his eyes looked…in those first minutes standing around awkwardly.

The vibes from Scott and Erika threatened me most that day. My gut said no to Scott and Erika, but there I was about to enter the house…as a fan of the show who applied the old fashioned way I was ready.

I knew there had to be more than eight people in the house, but I decided to worry about that later and focus on the very seven people Julie Chen just told me to “take a good look around at.”

In my mind the start of the season right then was nothing and everything I thought it would be, and in the moment you’re waiting for Julie Chen to address you for the first time it’s…magic and rainbows and Ashley’s dreamboard unicorns. You can’t see Chenbot but you can hear her Chenbot voice. Then you’re jarred back to the reality that holy shit the game’s already started and the battery pack on the microphone felt damn heavy clipped to the back of my skirt. I’d shoved the pack between my skin and skirt, so my skirt felt extra tight and I felt like a sausage.

No matter how much you’re prepared for Big Brother, everything flies out the window when you get there and it’s up to you to close the damn window. You realize you have to be locked up with most probably and certifiably crazy people around you, and you have to watch your back because everyone wants your $500,000. Plus, you have to pee and poop on film.

Even at my coolest and most relaxed state I usually have a dozen things running through my head, but when I was standing on those steps my mind and heart were racing. No joke. So what do you do?

I chose to listen closely to the instructions I was given by production and hoped I wouldn’t be the first HG to faint on those stupid fake steps.

So as the first eight of us HGs stood on the stairs leading to the BB4 house, not knowing each other’s names, I felt like I was high. I wondered if they were thinking what I was thinking. Where were the rest of us?! Why only eight?

I’d looked around trying to get a read from Robyn or Kate or Shawn’s faces, anyone from production, but they gave me nothing. Little did I know they were trying not to laugh in our faces as they anticipated drama to the highest degree, because the remaining five HGs yet to arrive were ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends of most of us standing on those steps.

I don’t blame CBS for putting my messy break-up on blast, and making me share a house with Jee. It was a game-changer and better than any twist we’e seen in recent seasons because the producers just let things play out more, but maintained humane conditions.

~ ~ ~

I’m getting asked often now about the fact that I’m the only non-white HG to ever have won Big Brother…but 10 years ago standing on those steps it didn’t matter to me what color my fellow HGs were at the end of the day because the only color that mattered to me was green, in the form of a cash prize at the end. I wasn’t poor in 2003 by any means, but I was greedy and pretty ruthless and I wanted to win. The money was great, but I wanted to win.


End of Entering the Big Brother House.

Always dishing,



Big Brother Vagina Wars


I can’t speak for any other vagina but my own so I’ll speak for my vagina today. I never refer to my own vagina as a cunt, and I never have because the word cunt is only reserved for really bad vaginas. Occasionally, a very angry person will call me a cunt. I’ve highlighted said word in a comment I received here on my site in response to my Big Brother Diary Room FAQs blog:


I moved said comment to “Trash” because as much as I love extra traffic to my site, I won’t lower my bar on cunts. If you can’t come back at someone without using such a word, then like “Freak_Show”, you too probably have so many alias accounts that you never go outside. I let Freak_Show know that the comment was deleted and why, and actually I’d have left the comment up had I not been called a cunt. Of course there was denial.


Hey…I refer to people, male or female, as cunts on occasion when the spite levels are high and so I’m not trying to banish it from existence. If you put yourself out there for people to see, then you’re going to get called a cunt on occasion. I’d just never go to someone’s website and start an argument leading to my calling the owner of the website a cunt. It’s just not going to happen here, neither to me nor you, and especially not over a blog about the Big Brother diary room.

It has happened, however, quite often in the Big Brother house. It’s usually the men referring to the women as “cunts” and such, but only because women are much more creative in tearing down fellow women. Men can’t really touch us in that arena. Freak_Show is a pesky fly compared to what other women can do to me.


Thanks Murtaza for the segue. I don’t believe men make it farther in the BB game per se, especially not in final two standings and especially not this season. But I think I’m going to take a guess on where you’re going with this question. If anyone’s got the numbers on men versus women please share, but I’m going to take a female winner’s standpoint of Big Brother and run with this.

We’ve seen already this Big Brother 15 season a large male alliance sprout up then go limp and dead, early on. Although what was once The Moving Company was right to stir things up amongst the women, because it did work, it wasn’t good enough to stop three men in a row from being evicted. Spencer relishes in referring to female HGs as cunts, and his overall unappealing physique and face only add to his already ugly disposition and tongue.

Elissa, who came into the game claiming she wanted to head-up an all-girl alliance has done anything but, although she’s played a hand in all three of the evictions. An all-girl alliance. That’s an oxymoron in the BB house. Why? Because historically it’s rarely happened, and the opposite’s happened more often than not.

Men are just as guilty of shit-talking about other men and women in the BB house, but women take other women’s weak spots and stab them until they bleed BB tears. This shouldn’t be news to anyone, and if anything I’d rather everyone be more open and honest about it. We all have a mean streak in us. I keep mine on a leash most of the time and only released upon my command. With people I keep my guard up with, like you often do in the BB house, when you let your mean streak go then it’s because you want it to go. We’re all adults by hormonal standards.

So lame is the excuse that “HGs’ behaviors are a result of the duress they’re under in the house.” Stop making excuses for people who already make too may excuses for themselves. Everyone is in there for $500,000 and sometimes fame, and what you see is what you get when that HG doesn’t get their way. It’s not far from how the HG would react outside the house, just on 24-hour blast for the masses to watch. When we see cattiness and personal attacks behind people’s back and sometimes to their faces on Big Brother, our eyes bug out and we tweet out 140 characters of shock at a time…as we should. We’ve all seen some mean shit this season, and mostly by the women. It’s a shame there’s never been a dominant all-girl alliance with a cool name.



My alliance with Ali and Erika got us to the final four, and although I personally disliked both (as they did me) it worked. The name of our alliance still haunts me, but I liked how our stresses were taken out in the diary room more than they were by drinking wine and flipping beds and protesting one-piece bathing suits. If you want to truly work together with other women you do not badger them on their insecurities for the rest of the house to see or talk like racist pieces of trash to one another. Referring to Candice as ugly and fat behind her back, as a woman, is intentional and defensive as well as offensive. It’s more fun to sew together lettuce and cherry tomato bikinis for the girls like I did my season in between catty diary rooms, isn’t it?

For every tiring person who tells me my season was 10 years ago so who cares? Maybe we should care. Look around you.

I still wish for a bigger and better women’s alliance at some point in the Big Brother timeline. With showmances that turn out to be real life love, it’s no wonder we don’t see numbers in strength in women in the house. Purely from love’s standpoint I’m always happy for happily married couples. From game’s standpoint it’s horrible odds for vagina power and overall you get vagina wars plus a few edited saints.

Big Brother fever brings out the best and worst in HGs and fans alike. I thank all you best of fans. Freak_Show, I wish you peace.

Always dishing,


Photo Credit: If anyone knows where the above Big Brother’s Angels photo originated, then please do let me know! I had it in my BB archives from 10 years ago and I can’t remember the source.

Summer Birthday



I’m turning 38 years old tomorrow. This is the first birthday card I’ve received pre-birthday, from a girlfriend in Michigan. She made the blonde on the card a brunette with black pen, just for me. I don’t know if I can pull off such a dress, but I can certainly hold a cosmo and clutch.

This year I’ll turn another year older thinking back to 10 years ago to when I turned twenty-eight, in the Big Brother house. There’s nothing quite like spending your birthday in a house full of people who want to take your half-a-million dollars away from you, at the end of the day even on your birthday. I wouldn’t trade that birthday year though, because I’m still learning so much about myself as a result of my summer of Big Brother 4. On the eve of my 38th birthday I know I’ll be spending tomorrow in a house full of Davy and Noah, who are worth more than half-a-million dollars. I’ll be tuning in with you to see who loses their claim to $500,000 tonight, on Big Brother 15.


This question from Robert, guest blogger in “A Letter”, made me stop and think awhile because I couldn’t come up with a spur of the Twitter moment answer per usual. Then I realized it’s the things you do that won’t win you the game, that you should be least proud of. Things done out of pure spite and intent to hurt…for in those moments the worst in you comes lashing out.

I’ve touched upon this in my blog about my hateful moments in the house, “Crazy Mommy”, and how I see now that I could have been a “better” Korean in some ways in “Another Korean on Big Brother”.  I can also admit how happy I was that half the house couldn’t eat any of my birthday cake because they were on PB&J. That’s the spiteful bitch I was and can be still.

However, everything else I did in the house from baiting Ali and Nathan into fighting with The 3 Stooges and turning on Jack evicting him? I am proud of. I’m proud of letting Dana dig her own grave while she was up on the block with me, because although I loved her as a person she was collateral damage to me in the game. I’m proud of the role I played in getting Scott riled up and expelled from the game. The game.

I don’t get all the crying when people are evicted. Your alliance member got evicted? Would you rather it be you? No? Then stop crying.

This is why I wish Helen wouldn’t use tears to get her work done. It would be a cleaner game and more snot-free sanitary for the Big Brother 15 house. Crying women bring us back a few decades, and I abhor it as a tactic in life and inside BB. It’s a game though, so she can cry.

It’s those things that are NOT about the game that make us question ourselves, as we watch Houseguests once strangers to us, because we all say we “wouldn’t act a certain way if I was on the show.” You never know until you’re on the show. Sorry.

So no matter what…each HG deserves a shot at redemption post-show, and it should start with some silent reflecting. Wait, did I just sound like a mom right there? I don’t want to go all Helen on you…

Always dishing,



My Big Brother Finals Casting Experience


I’ve read one particular Andy Denhart article on Reality Blurred several times about the finals casting process, and I read it again today. Since I’m years beyond any contractual obligation to CBS I’m going to add to what is already a very accurate description of what really happened/happens, during finals casting. Finals casting happens a couple of week before the premiere, it’s like Reality Television Casting Olympics. And I was going for gold.

I won’t touch on all of Andy’s bullet points, but I will confirm that:

~ I was flown to L.A. where I stayed during the finals casting, on CBS’s dime plus the $50 per diem aka “allowance” we could use for meals or whatever. At the time I had plenty of money so I went through their $50 and spent some of my own on top of it every day at the gift shop and the bar and wherever I could hang out during my 45 minutes of free time. The rest of the time was very controlled or spent in my room.

~ For dinner, we had the option of eating in the restaurant or the hotel’s bar or just in our rooms. I ate at the restaurant once and I felt like a hooker with other hookers waiting for clients at tables, with our pimp PAs watching us to make sure none of the hookers talked to each other. So after that I just ate dinner in my room.

~ I did sit through “interviews” with all the executive producers, including Allison Grodner and Arnold Shapiro and other major BB decision-makers in the same room at all times. There were always cameramen and other assistants in the room during these interviews and everyone in the room could watch me on a television screen nearby. It’s weird all of a sudden being in front of bright lights and wearing a windy microphone with a bulky pack, but I loved it. These interviews were where they delved deeper into some of the questions you’d answered previously, eliminating people left and right if you didn’t give them that “something” they wanted.

~ I did not get to watch television, and as a matter of fact our televisions were removed from our rooms anyway, and we could get a DVD player and a movie or some video game. That was it. And we were not really allowed to “call people” unless it was an “emergency”.

~ I did get to go from interview to test to meals “by myself” aka without a PA, but I did have to “check-in” like a house-arrest inmate, by calling the production office when I got back to my room.

~ I DID look at another finalist during breakfast one day and she looked back at me, even though we’re instructed NOT to. Because SHIT, it’s unnatural and so at some point you end up making eye contact with somebody accidentally for just a fleeting moment.

~ I did notice numbers dwindling as some of the weirder girls left. I remember Dana had been at finals with me the longest while other women were cut.

~ I did meet with the show’s psychologist, and it was an easy conversation about me and I never felt like my head was shrinking the entire session.

~ I did meet with a “celebrity psychologist”, Alan Downs, and he asked me some questions and I remember he asked me specifically how “manipulative” I was. Apparently that was what he got from me, and so we chat about my skills in manipulation and why I would win Big Brother. Basically.

~ I did take a standardized IQ test and went through multiple personality assessments, and I remember sitting there with my Scantron sheet and No. 2 pencil in one of the banquet halls at the hotel…and I felt so goofy like I was in high school again.

Screen shot 2013-07-02 at 12.14.28 PM

The psych evaluations were not FBI profiler-thorough, in reference to whether or not current Big Brother 15  houseguests would have been evaluated as “racist” or “misogynist” or “homophobe”. But I believe the personality assessments would provide information as to strengths and weakness and volatility of the potential houseguests, based on some of the questions on the tests. The evaluation isn’t diagnostic and more personality-focused than behavioral-focused, at least that was the case my year.

~ I did provide “bio samples” to the show’s doctors for a full medical, and I also had to get a full physical from my personal primary care physician. Big Brother wanted to know how healthy I was physically and mentally and sexually. Listen up people, you CAN go into the Big Brother house healthy and come out diseased, which is why I can’t understand why people have so much unprotected fluid swapping in there.

~ I did receive a schedule at the start of finals casting with blocks of time for meals and “Producers, Medical, Psych A, Psych B, Call Back, and Written Test” and scheduled free time. But “Scheduled free time” is an oxymoron isn’t it? The schedule ran with barely any hiccups and the production team was on top of their shit.

I could go on, but I can tell you that the finals casting process hasn’t changed much since my BB days. Everything I did during finals casting was documented and surveyed, and I saw just how focused the behind-the-scenes crew were and they really busted their asses to get a final cast nailed down. I say this because we give “production” so much shit all the time, yet it’s never the guy behind the camera or the gal running scheduling that get enough thank yous.

The summer I went through finals casting, I only had good things to say about everyone who worked in production. They’re good hardworking people. There’s so much unnecessary filth thrown at Allison Grodner and her crew, and over what. A summer reality show? Alleged rigging? These people at CBS are real people, and they’re the people who called to check on me after my season ended, and to ask about the condition of my father as he became frailer with each call, and they paid their respects from afar when my dad passed away the following year.

I say all this without having planned it. It just came out. That’s what she said…

And for the record, these people actually signed up for the show the real way without a casting agent:


And we all know the rest of the cast just happened to be some of our exes.

Thanks again, to Andy, for always putting it all out there.

Always dishing,


10 Years Ago



10 years ago I won Big Brother. It’s one of so many life experiences I’ve had. And although it doesn’t play a major role in my daily life, it’s the reason most of you visit my site in the first place. But if you continue to visit, it’s because something in me clicks in you. And I don’t take it for granted.

If you think about the person you were 10 years ago, how much has changed?  For me it was 2003, and I was freshly broken up from a four-year live-in relationship to a guy I thought I was going to marry one day, and I was looking to do something completely insane. So I applied for Big Brother. Yes I was a fan of the show, but with only three seasons before me I wouldn’t say I was any kind of “superfan”.

No, I wanted to go in that house and be a manipulative conniving biatch. I looked forward to saying whatever I wanted being brutally honest in the diary room, about a bunch of strangers whose job it was to try to take my $500,000. Instead of sleeping with everything that pointed a dick at me as a “best way to get over someone is to get under someone else” life practice that summer, I chose to go on national television and work my shit out. And so you can imagine when I found out that first night in the house that yet another ex-boyfriend of mine, Jee, would be in the house with me all summer I was reeling. My mouth hung open for so long when Julie Chen dropped the bomb.

And at home, my mother was watched and wondered what in the fuck Jee was doing on television with me. It was a Korean mother’s worst nightmare. As if it wasn’t bad enough that her unmarried daughter had just broken up from one pre-marital cohabitational relationship, I then went on television “parading” a previous ex-boyfriend who’d also lived together out of wedlock. My father, always the rational one, had calmed my mother and together they’d watched the season in awe of their daughter.

Yes, 10 years ago I was as single as they come and I did exactly what I wanted when I wanted in my free time. Today, it’s a completely different story. More often than not, my free time “activities” are not solely about me anymore. And as I watch other BB alum “grow up” with me and start families too, it does strike a happy chord in my usual BB cynicism. Congratulations to all the new BB mommies and daddies.

~ I wouldn’t say I’ve “softened” in these last 10 years, but I have let down parts of my Cancer shell. I’m a crab through and through. And I’m still, and always will be manipulative and conniving and brutally honest.

Always dishing,


Getting Your Big Brother Key


Dear @feiona78:

Updated: Monday, September 2, 2013

I don’t know about others, but I know I was packed WEEKS before they producers came to “take me away” because I was that confident I was getting on the show.  I still don’t know WHY I was so sure, but I just was.  I had taken a four-month personal leave of absence from Citigroup and rented my apartment for three months, and paid up my utility and cable bills too. I was a packed and ready-to-go girl.

In truth, when they do come and get you it’s all a blur because it’s all about the crew getting the footage they need for the premiere. Then it’s “Okay, let’s go, say you’re goodbyes” when all their precious footage is taken. They have suffice material to typecast you for promos, and it’s time to go. It’s like a slap in the face. Literally, you have five minutes at most to say your final goodbyes and leave. Then you need to grab your bag and hope you don’t lose your damn mind over the summer because you’ve signed up for something called Big Brother.

The footage you see of people “packing their bags” is real and not real at the same time. You’re given your key and then your BB bag when the producers come to take you, but you get to bring one other bag with you into the house (as small/big as you want). So I packed an “immibag” which was what my Korean family of immigrants called it. Those bags that “immigrants” used back in the day. I could have carried a few dead bodies into the BB house with me!  I packed three full months of summer wardrobe with me, and half of it didn’t fit me anymore by the time I left the house. Oh, and CBS does provide all the toiletries you NEED but luxuries or specific brands are up to you to bring with you. So if you’ve got some frou-frou needs in bath and body products, you’d better bring three months-worth with you.

As far as getting your key? You know it’s coming because you just know it’s coming. Every season starts off with seeing HGs receive their keys so you know the key’s gonna pop up when the camera is on you, but it’s still a thrill to get your key and more thrilling if you’re a super fan. I wasn’t a super fan then, but I still have my BB key and duffel bag and every single small and big souvenir I collected during my season. You don’t even want to know some of the corny stuff I have. I could never sell any of it and not because I’m a hoarder.

So this was a very long answer to a short question: NO. Not technically an hour to pack. Unless you’re stupid.

You should be packed when you get the call on the Wednesday or Thursday before they come to get you, that Saturday. This process hasn’t changed much since my season, but I welcome edits and updates from more recent BB alum. If it ain’t broke CBS won’t fix it.

Even it if is broke clearly CBS won’t fix it.

Always dishing,