The past two days have somehow gotten away from me and I’ve completely forgotten to blog about my weekend at The Correspondents Dinner in Washington, DC. I apologize for the delay but if my two day silence tells you anything…. it was QUITE the weekend. I suppose you have already heard some rumblings about what happened.
I hadn’t planned on going to the dinner this year. What with the new administration and the renovations of my new bathroom, I just decided this year would be best if I stayed home and watched reruns of ‘Wife Swap’ on Hulu like Joan London, Star Jones, and other people who no longer get invited do.
I’d cleared my schedule for the weekend to catch up on my DVR and eat my freaking brains out (no Zone diet and 8 Minute abs for me this weekend- JUST the DVR and a bag of Doritos!) when I got a text from Kim Kardashian. Texts from Kim Kardashian have led me into trouble before (I’m just NOW beginning to pay off the damage I did at the El Prado Museum in Madrid) but like a fool I texted her back because as my therapist as well as my mother tells me, Kim’s got me on a leash the size of a watch band.
She then went into pushy Kim mode and told me I simply HAD to come with her to the Correspondents Dinner. She said we’d make it a full fledged girlfriends weekend. Spa trips, buy some summer fashions…. Kim knows that all she has to say is ‘strappy sandals’ and I’m sold. Kim Kardashian knows me way too well. So before I knew it Kim’s SUV was outside and I was throwing whatever clothes I had laying around my townhouse into this reallllllly old duffle bag I’d gotten at a Gift Suite for the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards a million years ago. It was so long ago that Josh Hartnett had presented Best Movie and people knew who he was.
Kim slept most of the drive down to DC because apparently she’d had a big night on Thursday. Her details were foggy of what she’d done exactly but she did however have a burn the size of a grapefruit on her hand and Mickey Rourke hadn’t stopped texting her all morning.
We arrived in DC and checked into our suite at the Fairmont and Kim immediately started setting up our plans for the next forty eight hours. Friday night we stayed away from most of the political based events and crashed a party at Georgetown. Despite what you read in the tabloid columns yesterday, Kim and I did NOT get super drunk and make out for a group of eighteen year old boys in a hot tub. I don’t know how/where those rumors got started, or where those pictures (and viral video) came from but its simply bogus.
Saturday we sobered up (to be honest we really hadn’t slept- we just popped a couple Sudafed and Five Hour Energy Shots- Kim ought to be their spokesperson, she drinks them like they’re water or Chardonnay) and went to the WHC Garden Brunch. Talk about a starry affair. Gayle King. Chace Crawford. Kevin Jonas and his adorable new wife (who’s name I’ve forgotten but; honey, I’m serious about us doing ice cream sundaes at Serendipity and going handbag shopping sometime soon! Get my number from somebody!) It was a gorgeous afternoon and a really great hangover brunch (not sure if that was the chef’s original idea or not either way- Gayle King sure appreciated it too)
So of course Saturday night was the big dinner. Jay Leno made some jokes. Obama made some jokes. Justin Beiber was there pigging out on crab cakes like a pro. I wish I had something really crazy to report about what happened at the actual dinner but everyone was on pretty good behavior. That was…. until my incident with Kim.
I am not gonna indulge any of the speculations about what happened in the bathroom that night. What happened there was between Kim Kardashian and me. I will, however, tell you that the rumors of Kim and I having had our final falling out and our ongoing toxic relationship officially being over are true. I don’t wanna say too much without talking to my lawyers first. I’m flattered that this is the biggest story to come out of the Correspondents Dinner and honestly, a little shocked.
You’ll find out the whole story when you read my upcoming book about the weekend (Kim Kardashian and Me: Correspondents Dinner Freak Out. The True Story)…. coming out wherever books are sold in two weeks. I’ll also be sitting down with Larry King tonight and Oprah’s doing something NEXT Tuesday. I hope you’ll tune in.
But honestly guys, lets not let all this upstage the importance of the Correspondents Dinner and all the President had to say this weekend. We’re living in very exciting political times and I’d hate to see that overshadowed by my silly business with Kim or my upcoming book tour COMING TO A CITY NEAR YOU! Watch for my schedule in the coming days and maybe I’ll be in your town!
See ya soon America!
Hugh Hefner donated 900,000 bucks to save the Hollywood sign this week. I have a feeling people are gonna argue that he should have given his money to a worthier urgent cause but I gotta say I find it really cool. Cole and I went out to LA for the first time a little over two years ago. The whole place was so fucking weird and wacky. I guess sorta like coming to New York if you’ve never been before. Except completely different in every way possible.
Every block reminded me of a movie or a movie star or a TV show or of the mere existence of Courtney Cox in general (that is… if she really DOES exist at all) (PS- she does. Its proven every week on ABC’s ‘Cougar Town’) (No really. That wasn’t a joke about Courtney Cox being a virtual hologram of her former self nowadays but a plug that you can watch Courtney Cox every week on whats surprisingly a pretty popular sitcom) (BTW- I have no problems with Courtney Cox or any of the ‘Friends’ cast for that matter…. in fact, I’m a fan) (Finally, do you have Google Alerts, Courtney Cox? If so- HEY!)
I found LA to be just as neat as it is weird. I was overwhelmed by the driving aspect. We drove a Smart Car around town one day and I literally cried for a good seventy five percent of that time. Not because of all those weird reminders of Courtney Cox’s existence but because I was so fucking nervous about driving in Los Angeles. In that cartoon tiny car. It was pretty frightening.
Every meeting we went to took place in an office covered in posters for movies and sitcoms that had literally been my religion growing up. We went to a party and ate cheese off the same plate as Dana Delaney. This town is NO fucking joke, y’all.
At various times, or rather a good percentage of the time, I was pretty intensely freaked out by the place. It was SO unlike home. SO unlike anywhere I’d ever been and overall just really weird. We happened to be staying at an apartment in West Hollywood and from the balcony we had an insane view of the Hollywood Hills along with it, the Hollywood Sign. It was magical, dizzying, and beckoning high atop the hill…. just below the observatory where they filmed ‘Rebel Without A Cause’ and every night Cole and I would stay up super late, sit on the balcony, drink wine, and stare up at the huge white sign.
There was one especially intense moment for me…. when I found myself looking at the whole situation; at Cole, at me, at the street below, at the Norma Desmond-esque houses lining the Hollywood Hills, and at that giant glowing sign framing it all. It was hard for me to wrap my mind around being there…. it was somehow different than my ongoing New York ‘Holy Shit’ moments…. there was something exotic and dreamlike about that place….. about that sign…. about the whole thing. You could smell TV and movies being made right across the street and that does something to a kid who grew up on Roseanne Barr and Lucille Ball.
I’m really glad somebody didn’t tear down the Hollywood sign and build condos…. cause I think it’d sorta screw with that kinda magic there. And I happen to think magic is kinda cool. Oh. And so are you, Courtney Cox.
Yesterday I went to the park to read. Yesterday being Saturday. And the park being Central Park. Oh…. and the reading being New York Magazine. It was GORGEOUS weather. Sunny and warm. Similar to how I spent last weekend. Every fucker in town was out in Sheep’s Meadow likely questioning why the hell they decided to squeeze into the literal mob of sun bathers and frisbee throwers. I decided to stroll over to Literary Way and read on a bench like a sensible character out of ‘When Harry Met Sally’ or ‘Gay Guy Without Much To Do On Saturdays’ (the lesser known Rob Reiner/Nora Ephron work made two years after ‘Harry/Sally’ starring NOT Meg Ryan as originally planned but oddly…. a fairly unknown Teri Hatcher in a really bad blond Raquel Welch designed wig)
I took a seat in the shade, reading an article about a movie I have no interest in seeing when I noticed this boy…. must have been nine years old or so…. juggling three juggling pins…. he then switched to balls…. then some sorta spinning thing on a string that he’d throw into the air and catch. He was really rather impressive and captivating. He had no real charisma or anything…. but just this raw skill and really good hair. He had a big bucket for people to throw change into and he just sorta wandered back and forth juggling without any enthusiasm whatsoever which somehow made him all them ore captivating.
At first no one was really watching….. then…. out of no where a crowd formed around him. The crowd watched, cheered him on, while he made no eye contact with anyone…. just juggled. They threw money at him. Then slowly the crowd disappeared. He’d keep juggling alone, then take a break to eat a banana, or drink some water, then juggle some more. A crowd would form. Then go away. Then form again. And on and on and on.
I was fascinated by how unphased he was each time…. from both the crowd and then the no crowd…. and then the crowd again… no matter what he just kept doing his thing without a care in the world. I thought there was a lot to learn from that. The idea of just fucking juggling whether people are watching or not…. if a nine year old boy juggles long enough on a beautiful day in Central Park…. somebody is gonna stop and watch…. but you gotta be prepared to juggle whether they’re stopping or not.
I watched ‘I Am Legend’ tonight. For the first time. Because for me its always 2007. I really dug it. I’d always heard I would. Sorta like Wall-E with zombies and Will Smith’s hot arms. My kinda movie.
I keep thinking about who I’d most like to be stuck with in a post apocalyptic virus infected New York City defeating zombies and I haven’t made up my mind yet. I suppose the obvious choice would be someone smart enough/strong enough/brave enough to protect me/them but like- do I REALLY want to spend the next ten? twenty? forever? years with some brilliant scientific war hero who MAY or MAY NOT be fun and interesting? Not really. Unless, of course, he had the kind of arms Will Smith has in ‘I Am Legend’.
If you ask me, you ought to think outside the box when it comes to picking your sidekick in a zombie infested nation. Why NOT Suzie Orman? Why NOT Craig T. Nelson? Why NOT the little tiny lady from ‘Poltergeist’?!
Look. I’m not saying Suzie Orman’s unique skills of money management and being totally fierce are gonna protect you from the zombies but what I AM saying is- sure she may not be the obvious choice but I don’t think you should rule her out.
I’ll be honest…. Craig T. Nelson was really just a throw away joke (and it was the second draft- originally I wrote that line as Joey Fatone and then I was all- Joey Fatone?! Thats too on the nose- Craig T. Nelson- now THATS comedy) but the truth of the matter is- Joey Fatone would probably be better at dealing with zombies than Craig T. Nelson. Sorry, Craig.
But who would I rather spend all that time with?
The guy who recorded ‘Bye, Bye, Bye’? Or America’s favorite sitcom coach, Craig T Nelson?
The little tiny lady from ‘Poltergeist’ is not a bad idea. Is she still alive? I guess it doesn’t matter if she isn’t because she already proved she can talk to the dead and stuff. I feel like she could use those communicating skills with talking to the flesh eating zombies and be like: “GUYS, chill out and stop eating everybody’s flesh…. this is realllllllly getting old.”
But maybe, in the end, Will Smith really is the guy you want to be with. I mean, obviously- he’s got that winning smile and killer bod throughout the whole thing…. plus he’s smart and has almost figured out a way to fix everything (not unlike Suzie Orman, of course). There’s the whole post traumatic I talk to mannequins stuff the character has to deal with but besides that I guess Will Smith might be the best choice.
I don’t know what kind of reviews ‘I Am Legend’ got back when it came out but I know this….. if you held a gun up to my head right now and demanded I choose being the last two people in a zombie infested earth with Suzie Orman, Craig T. Nelson (Joey Fatone), the little tiny lady from ‘Poltergeist’, or Will Smith? I’m pretty sure I’d say Will Smith.
And thats why ‘I Am Legend’ is a good movie.
I got really into staying in the house this weekend. Cole and I took some time off from shooting and it felt so lovely to have free time with the knowledge that come Monday, I’d be returning to work like a real grown up. (Or rather, a grown up who spends his day making pee jokes and wearing wigs at his apartment)
Yesterday afternoon around 5PM, I finallllly pried myself off the sofa. I’d spent the majority of the day watching ‘The Fourth Floor’, a really odd movie starring Juliette Lewis and featuring Shelley fucking Duvall. From 1999. I’m not quite sure but I would venture to guess its one of Shelley’s last movie appearances. Juliette’s too? I dunno. I love both of those ladies very much. Oh. And Artie Lang was in it too.
Needless to say, I decided I needed some fresh air and I took a stroll uptown with my friend Doug. We wandered into the park. The sun had gone behind some pretty thick clouds that I can only assume have something to do with the aggressively apocalyptic volcanic ash drifting through our airwaves and offering the early demise of all air travel and what will likely become the return to our dependency on boats and waterways. That is until we’re immersed solely in water and we must resort to ‘Water World’-esque colonies and we turn to Kevin Costner as our official leader. Not Kevin Costner’s character in ‘Water World’…. I mean the actual Kevin Costner.
But I digress.
So I ended up in Central Park and we happened upon this paved section near Literary Way and Bethesda Fountain where every Sunday (I’m told) they rope it off and turn it into an impromptu full on skating party. There is music blaring. Disco! There are hundreds of people in roller skates going around and around the make shift rink and the city’s weirdest denizens all come out of the wood work to skate, to watch, to sing, to dance, to jump, to hold hands. Wacky ladies in red bob wigs and black leggings. The kind of women who carry six fairway bags up Amsterdam Avenue and talking to themselves in thick indistinguishable accents. That guy who dresses up like a drag pirate. Have you ever seen him? You’d know him if you saw him. Carries a poodle and parrot as well. Wacky character. Magical soul. Huge muscley men, little old ladies, moms, kids, tourists, everyone.
Doug and I stopped and watched, becoming transfixed by it all. The entire situation and enviroment seemed to emit positivity and joy, like those Icelandic volcanoes and their meddling apocalyptic ash. I was transported out of Central Park, out of Sunday, out of me to a level of unstoppable joy and just then…. the sun burst through the clouds in this intensely magical way. The skating rink basked in the golden glow and the music played on and on…. or rather, until 6:30 when they have to stop.
It’s amazing to me that something like that can transport you so vividly and powerfully.
Next Sunday. If its nice out. Or even if its not…. walk over to the park, its just Northwest of Literary Way before you get to the fountain. You will experience joy in the coolest of ways. And the sun might just come out.