The time I was on Ricki Lake (and left her and her staff the most disgusting "gift" imaginable)
"We listen, and we do not judge..."
Have any of you seen that Tiktok trend where they start the video out with the phrase “We listen, and we do not judge…” and then go on to talk about the most unhinged shit imaginable?
Well, that’s the energy I’m going for as I tell this story.
Deep breath.
For anyone that doesn’t know my backstory, in 2012 I’d been married to my then-wife for 10 years. I don’t want to belabor this part of the story too much because it’s a story in itself and I don’t want to get distracted, but the long and the short of it is that we were Mormon, I was gay, and part of my coming-out process involved me thinking that I could be authentic about my gayness and remain in my monogamous “straight” marriage in a way that was genuine and healthy. The thinking—very cerebral, very not-in-my-body—went something like “well if love is love, and we choose who we love, then why can’t I, a gay man, choose to honor these commitments I made to my best friend when we were deeply religious and got married in our early 20’s?”
Honorable. Noble. And completely fuckin’ delulu.
This led to a very earnest, very heartfelt blog-post from us in which I came out of the closet and we explained our decision to stay married. The morning after posting it we were stunned when this post intended for our family, friends and local community had gone massively viral, literally overnight.
It was totally surreal. Not only did nearly ever person I’d ever known at any point in my life now suddenly know I was gay, but millions of strangers were talking about it too. The adorable family photo we’d had a friend take the previous week was plastered up and down our Facebook feeds again and again, and by the end of the day it was being printed in newspapers and shared on evening news segments. The overwhelm was like nothing I have before or after experienced. I have this vivid memory of crossing a busy highway and feeling suddenly compelled to lie down in the grass of the traffic island while loud afternoon traffic buzzed by on either side of me. It was the first time in my life I felt so overwhelmed that my body literally made me touch grass to get some grounding.

Then—spoiler alert!—in a twist of fate that surprised absolutely nobody (except us!) six years later we posted another viral post about our decision to divorce. This one was a lot more somber, of course. We explained that in coming out and being more honest with the world, we’d also shattered the denial mechanisms that had held things together for so long, and we could finally see clearly that our arrangement truly was hurting both of us deeply. It was a true case of two people’s love for each other meaning letting each other go. (Here’s the article about it in the Salt Lake Tribune.)
It was heartbreaking. But, seven years later, I’m happy to report that Lolly and I doing very well. We’ve both fallen in love with and married new partners, and the four of us work as a great team co-parenting our four kiddoes.
ANYWAY—all of this was just to set up that in the whirlwind of those early months after the coming out post, Lolly and I were approached by various shows and networks to appear on their programs.
And one of those was the Ricki Lake Show.
"The Ricki Lake Show?” you ask, perceptively noting that this all happened in 2012 and not the 90’s when her show was popular. “You mean that Ricki Lake show?”
“Yes,” I nod sagely and confirm. “This was a reboot that I am pretty sure only lasted only one season. And don’t you DARE insinuate that the story I’m about to tell is part of why it got canceled because that is RUDE and INCONSIDERATE and also possibly ACCURATE.”
By the time the Ricki Lake producers contacted us—months after the original post—we’d gotten pretty savvy at knowing which media opportunities to go for (like Nightline, for instance) and which ones to tactfully decline (like when we were offered a considerable sum of money to be on Wife Swap, which we had the good sense to pass on. Can you even fuckin’ imagine how that would have gone? YIKES.)

Initially, Ricki Lake felt a like a maybe. The pitch sounded reasonable enough, but we were kinda like, uh, isn’t Ricki Lake? A show akin to, like, Jerry Springer or something? Paternity tests and audience fights and jilted lovers? That kind of thing?
We demurred and the weeks passed and passed, but their producers were very persistent. Aweek before the taping one of them happened to catch me between sessions at work (a miracle!) and by the end of our conversation, it was clear to me that instead of “gotcha” TV fodder, they planned on this episode being respectful and gracious and even pretty loving. I went home and talked it over with Lolly, and in the end, we said yes.
A week later we were flown to LA.
Let me set the scene here. First, I should mention that Lolly and I both, bless our tender little hearts, suffer from pretty significant (albeit different) forms of ADHD. This means that keeping things afloat in our day-to-day lives was already a challenge in best of times. In times like these? As we shepherded our little family through the daily routines of life while also being bombarded with attention and doing crazy shit like being on big TV shows? Well, let’s just say our respective executive functions were a bit… compromised.
Thankfully, some of Lolly’s family lived in the area, and they were gracious enough to help us during the taping. Her dad volunteered to sit with the kids in the greenroom while her mom and sister cheered us on in the studio audience.
(Here’s a pic of us in front of the greenroom. We felt very fancy that our names were on the door. On a sheet of paper. But cool nonetheless!)
I remember the greenroom behind that big door being very chaotic.
The kids were making a ruckus of course, and their grandpa was trying to keep them entertained. Hair and make-up people chit-chatted near a wall of mirrors as other teams of people buzzed in and out hurriedly—producers producing and assistants assisting and the like—and it was all crescendoing towards us the big moment of us being shoved out onto that stage to spill our guts. During this mayhem, with only minutes to go before cameras were rolling, Lolly pulled me aside and told me that her sister had just found a bug in one of the kids’ hair. “You don’t think it’s lice, do you?” she asked.
This was a surreal moment.
There we were, getting ready to do TV show in front of a studio audience. We’d been flown in from out of state, put up in a hotel, and were moments away from sharing some of the most private details of our life with millions of people. And right as we are about walk out on that stage, we are posed with this piece of very unexpected information.
A bug. Was found. In the hair. Of one of our children.
I think my brain short-circuited in that moment, because what came out of my mouth next made zero sense. “That’s impossible,” I said. “There’s no way it could be lice.”
Huh?
Like, what explanation for “finding a bug in a child’s hair” was there besides it being head-lice? Did I think Lolly’s sister had found a stray cricket crawling around one of our kids’ scalps? A spider? Maybe a dragonfly larva?
Yet, my brain was so overwhelmed it refused to examine this development with any further level of scrutiny and pushed the question, and the tiny sick feeling in my gut, aside. No time for this scary feeling—we’re too busy processing all the other scary feelings it seemed to say. Lolly’s brain must have done something similar, because we both nodded in sync like what I’d said made total sense, and the next thing we knew we were being swept away to hair and make-up before being escorted out to all the lights and cameras on the big stage where, at last, we filmed what ended up being a very stressful, but successful, segment of the The Ricki Lake Show.
And yes, you did read that correctly. Before the cameras started rolling and Ricki Lake started asking us questions, some very nice, professional people took large brushes and combs and curling irons, and used them to style both of our heads of hair before ushering us out to that stage.
And then, it can be assumed, they used those same implements to style other guests’ hair, because we weren’t the only segment being recorded that day.
Hell, for all I know, they maybe used those same implements to retouch Ricki fucking Lake’s hair during the course of her work day.
All I do know is that when we got home, we discovered that all three of our children had a severe case of head-lice. And upon further examination, we discovered something that chilled us both to our core: Lolly also had head-lice.
Which means she had had it during the taping.
Which means that with all those brushes and combs and beauty implements, and all those other guests…
well, the words “probable infestation” come to mind, but we’ll never actually know because the show was canceled very shortly after our segment aired and I am deeply relieved I never had to speak to any of those good people ever again.
(BTW, I myself was spared due to the shortness of my hair as well as the acerbic taste of my bitter, bitter blood (presumably).)
So, that, my friends, is how I went on The Ricki Lake show and left her and her staff one of the most disgusting “gifts” one could possibly imagine. The kind of gift—as they say—that keeps on giving.
*shudders*
Anyway, unrelated: does anyone have an on-site podcast you wanna book me on? I promise I’m a top-notch guest! LOL (← I do realize “LOL” is passè and cringe but I’ve come to accept that some of the Elder Millennial habits in me will NEVER DIE.)
Much love to all,
Josh
PS—I tried really hard to find the Ricki Lake segment but I was unsuccessful. If any Internet sleuths out there find it, definitely let me know so I can share it!
PPS—I’m trying to get things rolling on the notes feature here on the ‘Stack (which is kinda like Twitter) and I’m just getting started. If you’re happen to have a Substack could you go to the notes and give my recent posts some love? It would mean the world!
Josh, this is comedy gold (and also OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG NOOOOOOOOooooo runs from room screaming with hair on fire). I truly admire your ability to find the humor and the love after the pain. Thanks for being a bright light.
Professional hair stylists don't use combs and brushes and towels on different people without sanitizing them in between. Still....