I said, “Fine. But gimme the full Moonstruck.”
Once the final lash was applied, I raided her closet. She said jokingly, “Don’t steal anything, bitch.”
I said, “Just a couple of furs and two pairs of shoes, that’s all.”
We live-tweeted our photo shoot from her bedroom. She even let me wear her original fur vest from the “I Got You Babe” days with Sonny! Of course, the conversation went back to that era, and she said that whenever she hears a ghostly creak in the house, she’ll go, “Oh, Sonny’s here.”
After hours of modeling, friendship, and fabulousness, I headed for the door to say good night. Cher had one more pearl of wisdom for me before I left. “Remember, Kathleen, no matter how old you get, your boyfriends can never be older than thirty-five.” Words I live by.
Sometimes I reach out to Cher if I have said something in the press that will get me in trouble or let her know that I’ve done something once again that’s “too far.” She’ll text back, “KEEPING Your COOL isn’t your most fabulous attribute … BLOWING IT … IS.”
By the way, we have never gotten to the movie. I kind of hope we never do.
COLFER, CHRIS
Actor, Author, Hope for Gay Mankind
Chris Colfer is so wonderfully talented, deserving of his Golden Globe Award and Emmy nominations for Glee, and I love that he’s a bestselling author, too. But he and I share something that I especially cherish, which is we love people over eighty.
When he was a guest on my talk show, and I asked him if he could be on with anybody else, whom would he choose, he said, “Angela Lansbury.” He openly mourned the loss of Elaine Stritch. This kid respects the greats and knows his classics—he’s working on a frickin’ Noël Coward biopic, for Chrissakes. I wasn’t surprised, then, to show up at his house for a backyard pajama party movie screening, decorated with outdoor couches and a popcorn machine, and see octogenarian Nebraska star June Squibb wrapped up in a blanket.
“Hi, June!”
“Hi, Kathy!”
The movie that night was the memorable ’80s campy wet dream, Mommie Dearest, with Faye Dunaway chomping everything in sight as legendary Hollywood diva Joan Crawford. Chris had indicated that talking to the screen and editorial comments were encouraged. I saw Jane Lynch there, so I walked up and said, “Jane, let’s be the Greek chorus. These kids don’t know what they’re in for, so let’s show them how it’s done.”
Jane and I had a blast yelling out Mystery Science Theater–style jokes. When it was over, Chris came up to us and with absolutely no irony in his voice said, “Can you believe that when this film came out, it got a Razzie?” (Razzies, or the Golden Raspberry Awards, are the notorious prizes given out each year for the worst films, and Mommie Dearest pretty much swept in 1981.) Jane and I looked at each other, then realized he wasn’t kidding.
“Well, yeah, I can believe it,” I said. “Because it’s terrible.”
Chris was having none of it. “I mean, is Faye Dunaway not amazing?”
Jane and I could not stop laughing, but you have to love Chris’s enthusiasm, misguided as it was. He’s probably hosted Glitter soirées where all his young pop culture–obsessed friends openly bemoaned it not having won a dozen Academy Awards. Incidentally, Chris is so charming, he probably could have gotten Faye to come and huddle with June. Then he would have had at least one more in his corner defending that hot mess of a movie.
COLLINS, JACKIE
Author, Confidante, Panther
I miss my friend Jackie. I just loved her. We became close after she appeared on My Life on the D-List, and the clincher was after I’d just gone through a horrible breakup and she magnanimously agreed to give this sobbing redhead girl some time at her home. She became that kind of friend.
That day, she told me, “You can’t have your heart broken by one man—darling, there’s a man for every occasion! There’s not a void that can’t be filled with one or more. Don’t feel you ever have to fall in love with just one person again. Fall in love with two, or three, or four people! Have boyfriends for different occasions. You could have a traveling boyfriend!”
Whether we were sitting one-on-one in her backyard or out on the town at Craig’s restaurant, Jackie was always in full hair and makeup. She really did live the drama of her characters and was the real deal that way.
She was also my world-traveling friend. One night, I had a show in Melbourne, Australia, and she happened to be on a book tour. So, she came to my show, and we had dinner and laughed the night away down under. (Wait, I don’t mean it like that, although I would if I were a genuine Santangelo.) Another time, my boyfriend and I went to Hawaii for Christmas. Coincidentally, Jac Jac rented a gorgeous house on the beach with her kids and grandkids just down the shore from the hotel we were staying in. I thought I might see her once during the vacation, if I was lucky. Well, she basically ended up adopting my boyfriend and me. I think we went to Jackie’s house four times that week. Swimming, laughing, gossiping, and she was always the first to whip out her cell phone camera and start taking pictures or video at will. I had no idea that Jackie had been battling breast cancer for years at that point. I’m so glad she posted those photos on her social media. And of course, I have several more of my own.
One time, when I hosted a dinner party at my house that included Jackie, Sidney and Joanna Poitier, and Suzanne Somers, I marveled at how they all had known each other for so long. I even turned to Jackie and said, “How do you all originally know each other, since I’m obviously the new one in the group?”
Without hesitation, Jackie said, “Oh, darling, it was the ’70s. We all know each other from three-ways.”
Everyone at the table laughed, including the globally renowned trumpeter Chris Botti. Who, by the way, looked back at me after that comment as if to say, “Are they being for real?” When I saw how long Jackie’s friendships with people were, it gave me a secret thrill, because I wanted to believe she and I would have a relationship that deep and lasting.
And we did, right up to the very end.
COOPER, ANDERSON
Newsman, Partner, Catalog Model
I know you want to hear what really happens off camera and during the camera breaks with your beloved Anderson Cooper on CNN New Year’s Eve during our LIVE broadcast. I call it CNN’s Kathy Griffin’s “Soon-to-Be Emmy Nominated for Best Variety Special … with Special Guest Anderson Vanderbilt” Special.
Nothing made me prouder than when Anderson was asked about doing New Year’s Eve Live with me and his response was, “I sweat more with Kathy Griffin than I do when under fire in Jalalabad.” Feel free to look up any of our greatest hits moments online, but keep reading and feel free to tweet him @andersoncooper to confirm what you are about to read here.
I met Anderson in 2001 when he was a guest, not once but twice, on my MTV ahead-of-its-time series Kathy’s So-Called Reality, and we have been friends ever since. In those days, I had my mom and dad as regulars on the series. When Anderson showed up, he didn’t even have his full silver-fox gray hair yet. He was shy and sweet and especially respectful to my mom and dad, so I instantly fell in love with him. My mother was nervous to even talk to him because she is such a fan of Anderson’s mother, living legend Gloria Vanderbilt. I admit I didn’t know he was a Vanderbilt the day I met him, but don’t worry, I have reminded him of it every day since. Yes, yes, he is Anderson Cooper, newsman extraordinaire. He’s the guy you expect to see on location in a war zone, in the tsunami, rescuing a child in Haiti after the earthquake. The real deal. Once a year, purely for your amusement, I’m pretty much the Hannibal Lecter to his Clarice Starling. You know, in a good way. They did love each other.
Anyhoo, back to New Year’s Eve, it’s all about the trickery. For the 2015/2016 show, my objective was to wear this Vanderbilt-Cooper down to the nub. You should know that Anderson has the NYPD pat me down before I’m allowed to get on the riser with him. I hope this is not because one year I innocently handcuffed myself to him and thre
w the key below into the crowd of five hundred thousand people. I also hope it’s not because one year I wanted to make it rain with $5,000 in singles, which the producers and the police said would cause a riot. I am far too much of an artist to be bothered with these details.
I put a ton of prep work into the New Year’s Eve broadcast. Anderson finds this hilarious. On air, he’s admitted that he just shows up on the platform and hopes to survive. I actually think about our show all year long. I am plotting right now.
My plan couldn’t have worked out better for the 2015/2016 four-and-a-half-hour live broadcast. First off, rather than sharing a room at the Marriott with Anderson as we did the previous year, I insisted on getting a different room to hang out in, just to be a diva and to see if Anderson even cared.
There’s no entourage with Anderson—it’s one of the things I love about him. I’ve caught him just sitting around and reading Nietzsche.
I got a jump start on messing with his mind; knowing he was in the next room wondering what was going on, I purposely waited in my own room. I swear I would have stayed there until about thirty seconds before going on air. Sure enough, a production assistant came to me and said, “Anderson’s just alone in the other room.”
“Good. Is he crying?” I asked.
Ten minutes later: “Um, Anderson wants to know if he can come over.”
When I finally allowed him in my hotel boudoir—this is maybe half an hour before we’re going on the air live—he said, “Are we good? Are we cool? What’s going on? We have to catch up.”
Naturally, we had a fast and furious gossip session, I made him call my mom, Maggie, and say hi, I teased him about how challenging his life is, and reminded him to never forget he’s a Vanderbilt. He grabbed his hair nervously. I could tell we were getting into the groove. Then I said, “I don’t think it’s a big secret at this point, but I’m going to do something on air.”
And he said defeatedly, “Yeah, I figured.”
“All I’m asking is that you just laugh. It won’t hurt you in any way. It’s silly, and if you laugh, you’ll look like a hero. Are you in?”
“Yes, of course! You know I’m in!” he said.
Then I said, “Fine, just don’t embarrass me.” See how I like to flip it on him?
For our big live-on-air walk from the hotel to the platform, which CNN had never done before, I had planned to wear a big, heavy winter coat, then whip it off and walk through Times Square in boots, a bikini, and body paint. I was proud of that moment, especially because I think Anderson—who naturally got embarrassed—thought, Okay, that’s her surprise. Whew. Hardly.
I had managed to sneak past the NYPD pat-down a couple of plastic spoons from the hotel room for a little something later. At the point in the broadcast when I felt like I had gotten Anderson to a nice and comfortable place, I simply asked him to close his eyes, put these two plastic spoons over his eyes, and trust me for ten seconds. AND HE DID! I couldn’t believe it either. I then took a small can of the darkest, JLo, Dancing with the Stars, shimmery tanning spray out of my bra and sprayed his gorgeous face. He took the plastic spoons off of his eyes (even I am not such an asshole that I would want to blind him) and looked into the small monitor in front of us where we can see ourselves and had a reaction that was so genuine. It was epic. He just kept saying “Wow” and “Jesus.” Mission accomplished! I also got a little bit of the dark spray tanner in his silver hair, which he himself has called “the moneymaker.” The most important thing is I got the giggle. That’s why you watch; that’s why I do it. I won’t stop until I get you your giggle.
During the commercial break, my curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to remind him once a Vanderbilt, always a Vanderbilt. I said to him, “Are you mad at me? You can tell me. We’re friends. Did I make you mad?”
He assured me he was not one bit mad, and I love him for that. But I had to push it. I said, “Well, now that I know you’re not mad, I have to ask you … and I know we are coming back LIVE in thirty seconds … but what were you thinking? When you had your eyes closed and you knew I was spraying you with something and you had covered your eyes with spoons. What possibly could have been going on in your mind?”
To which he answered, “I thought you were hydrating me with Evian spritzer.”
Now that is some Vanderbilt shit right there.
COWELL, SIMON
Music Impresario, Prickly Brit
Who didn’t fall in love with Simon Cowell when he unwrapped those brutally helpful critiques on American Idol? (Well, Clay Aiken, probably, for one. BTW, who knew Clay Aiken was using AI as a springboard to becoming a future politician? A politician, I might add, who ran for Congress as an openly gay Democrat who chose to distance himself from both Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. How’d that work out for you, Clay?)
Back to you, Simon. When you watched American Idol, you practically tapped your watch waiting for Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson to finish so Simon could tell it like it is. Thankfully, I’ve had many encounters with him, and every time I see him, I make sure I get private time.
When we both were on set together for a daylong non-Idol television shoot, the show sent every one of its stars to the same eating area so they could sit together during lunch. I took him aside and said, “You and I are eating alone, sir!” In just thirty minutes, I found him to be smart, honest, funny, and, dare I say, inspiring. I point this out because often I’m asked about certain celebrities with a certain tone as if to say, “Oh, that person is mean,” or “You met so-and-so. How do they sleep at night?” These celebrities are the types of people who often turn out to be surprisingly generous, serious, and kind. Simon will let me bust his balls, but he can give it back, too. We speak the same language. The accent almost puts a rosy tint on any insult he tosses off. He’s said to me things like, “Good to see you. Hideous color dress.” And “What a pleasant surprise. Boyfriend still lacking a high school diploma?” And I just love it. But he’s also been like the TV Simon Cowell to me, too, when he’s in advice-giving mode.
One time, I had just gotten in trouble for something, and I was simultaneously up for a gig, so I was worrying about repercussions, and I sought his counsel. He said, “Here’s the thing, Kathy. What’s unique about you, and what’s going to keep you unique, is that you never hold back. And you must never hold back, ever. No matter how much you get banned from talk shows”—he knew that about me—“and no matter how much a studio head is mad at you”—as Steven Spielberg was for a year, which I wrote about in Official Book Club Selection—“you should only ever take jobs where you can be 100 percent yourself. I never want to see you watered down in any way. That’s the thing I want you to keep doing. Keep being fearless, and don’t worry about being in trouble, because the people who are successful are always in trouble.”
What I loved about what he said was that it wasn’t the blind “You get ’em, girl, say what you want” support you get from a friend. It was advice with context from a kingmaker who knows something about why people succeed and why others don’t. And he ended his advice with this: “The last thing you should be is just anybody.” And then he went off to count his money. I can’t prove this, but I think I saw thousands of Krugerrands flying out of his ass as he walked away.
CRANSTON, BRYAN
TV Dad, TV Drug Dealer, Unaware Source of Lasting Personal Embarrassment
The year was 2008. It was my third year in a row as an Emmy nominee for My Life on the D-List, the year after I won it for the first time, and I was feeling pretty good the night of the ceremony. Being a “previous Emmy winner” will do that for you. I recommend winning one.
I was in my seat, and I looked across the aisle and who do I see but Bryan Cranston. I’ve known Bryan since he played the dad on Malcolm in the Middle. As long as I’ve known Bryan, he’s been respected and known as a hardworking actor’s actor who people are always pulling for. Only he’s now bald and wearing a ridiculous hat. He looks pretty skinny, and I think, Oooh, boy, he has le
t himself go-o-o-o-o. As in, clearly this guy has not worked in a long while. I felt terrible. If he’s sick, that’s one thing, but did he go through all that Malcolm money so quickly he can’t even afford a frickin’ toupee? Ouch. (You have no idea where my mind was going.) Is he living in Jane Kaczmarek’s spare room? Will I see him at the Laugh Factory soup kitchen next? Did the Emmys look at him and think, We have to give him a pity ticket? I started thinking about what I should say to a colleague who’s clearly on the skids and, frankly, looking awful. Or can you say anything? I could go over and hug him, I guess, although I’ll be honest, I didn’t want my on-top-of-the-world vibe to make him feel bad. I ran through an approach in my head: “Hey … hey there … Bryan? It’s Kath. Good ole Kath. Can I give you my number? Look, I know things didn’t pan out, but … I’m a friend. You call me. Because friends are there for you in the down times, all right? And just remember, you were the dad in Malcolm in the Middle. The dad! No one can take that away from you. Those reruns will always be there! Don’t hide from that!” If I’m being honest, I thought, he probably turned down a spin-off. Got lazy. That’s what separates us Emmy winners from the one-and-done Cranstons. Hard work. It’s sad. It’s probably a baby daddy sitch. He’s going to cry in my arms, isn’t he? It’s a designer gown, so I’ll have to get a hanky from Lea Michele and lay it across my shoulder first, but that’s what you do for the down and out. We’re not heartless.
Anyway, I won another Emmy that night and left without getting a chance to say anything. Is he okay? Anyone??? I now know I was the ONLY person in that room who didn’t know that Bryan Cranston was in the intense process of playing the iconic role of Walter White. ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, believe it or not, at that time, I hadn’t heard of the groundbreaking, multi-award-winning, globally watched series Breaking Bad, and I had not seen a single episode. Understand, I make a living watching crappy TV. I don’t always have time to get to the good stuff. I know I’m backpedaling here, but cut me some slack. I get it, HE IS THE DANGER!
Kathy Griffin's Celebrity Run-Ins Page 3