And ladies and gentlemen, at that moment, I just wanted to DIE. I had nothing. I probably said something like, “Oh! Uh … that’s cool! Yeah!… Uh, ha ha…,” and bolted. But seriously, if there had been a security guard in the vicinity, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Kendrick had snapped her fingers to him and had me forcibly escorted away. It was that weird, and, to my mind, rude, and, as Maggie would say, “a little high and mighty.” I mean, it was a party. I was nice to her. She’s a winner in life: a star on the rise, breaking out of those Twilight movies, and I was acknowledging her for that. It wasn’t even my initiative! A friend had walked me over to her booth! I wasn’t some drunk fan barfing on her tits. I get that she had a relative there, but I pride myself on reading a room, and I clearly had that one wrong and I don’t know why. I also pride myself on being the sassy aunt to the fun younger gals like Meghan Trainor and Aubrey Plaza, so this diminutive ice princess’s tone caught me off guard. I would have fully expected that reaction from Katie Couric, and probably ten feet before I’d ever got close enough to say anything. Plenty of famous people have given me leeway, watched me step over the line, then had to say, “All right, enough.” Never in a million years would I have expected Anna Kendrick to give me the “do I have to have you removed” look after less than a minute of friendly praise. I wish I could tell you I had a snappy comeback, but I just skulked away like a high school nerd rejected at the cool kids’ table. I still think she’s talented. I love the Pitch Perfect movies. But the next time I see her, I might just have to barf on her tits, just so when she tells me again that I have to go, it makes more sense.
KNIGHT, SUGE
Former CEO of Death Row Records, Can Give a Death Stare
One night I was talking to my pal comedian Katt Williams on the phone, and he said, “What are you doing right now?”
“I’m in my pajamas, and my boyfriend’s watching sports.”
“I’d like to send a car for your people, if you want to come over.”
“Well, ‘my people’ is me and my boyfriend,” I said. “But I can drive my own car.”
As we were getting ready to leave, I joked to my boyfriend, Randy, whose upbringing is very much Orange County Caucasian, “Look, we’re going to Katt’s in Malibu. He’s had some legal issues, and there’s a chance, just a chance … it probably won’t happen … but this evening could resemble the Boogie Nights scene with armed Alfred Molina and the gaysian throwing firecrackers.”
“What?” Randy asked, utterly confused.
I tried to reassure him. “But probably not.”
We got in the car and drove to Katt’s, and as we pulled into his driveway, I noticed a few Lamborghinis and two cages on the front lawn that housed giant mastiffs. I thought, I’ve never had a boring moment with Katt Williams, and this won’t be the first.
Katt met us in the driveway and escorted us inside, where he had a smorgasbord of Italian takeout laid out. “Do you want some fettucine?” he asked.
He was being a very sweet host.
There were two imposing men in the corner, and Randy whispered, “That guy looks like Suge Knight.”
“That’s because it is,” I whispered back.
The color drained from Randy’s face, which was my cue to go, “Soodge?”
Katt started laughing, so I said, “Soodge! What are you doing here? My God, I miss you!”
Suge Knight looked exactly as you might expect: ill-fitting golf shirt, chains, and jeans with mysterious bulges that didn’t look anatomical. A man of few, measured words, he didn’t say anything, then walked over to a table and picked up a box of Popeye’s fried chicken. So I did the slow clap, approached him, and said, “Really, Soodge? You’re a black man who’s going to eat Popeye’s fried chicken in front of a white comedian? Welcome to my act.”
Katt was laughing even more, saying, “Oh, Suge, now you did it! Now you’re in trouble. White lady’s gonna say anything, you know how that white lady is.” (White lady is Katt’s term of affection for me.)
Randy, of course, had his “please stop talking” expression working overtime, because my teasing Suge was admittedly on the edge.
Suge really hovered over Katt the whole time we were there, bodyguard-style, to the extent that I said, “Soodge, is it time for my pat down?”
Katt was the perfect host, and we had a great time hanging out, and when it was time to leave, he walked us out to the car. Right before getting in, though, I said, “Soodge, have you met my boyfriend, Whitey?”
I could tell Randy was thinking, We’re so close. The finish line is right … over … there …
Then I asked, “Soodge, do you know what just occurred to me? When was the last time you spooned with a lady?”
Katt chuckled and said, “I don’t think that’s what he’s into.”
“You know what?” I said. “I think it is. I think someone here is afraid to ask for a spoon.”
I walked up to Suge, took his arms, wrapped them around me with my back to him, and said, “Just breathe, Soodge. Enjoy something called tender loving care.”
Then Suge—again, a man patient with his communication skills—said, “Normally I like PUSSY.”
I nodded and said, “I know, I know. But tonight, you’re going to have to be satisfied with gentle spooning from your friend Kathy.”
I looked at Suge as I got in the car and said, “Good night, Soodge. And remember who to call when you need a little spoon.”
I know many people might be surprised that I wanted to engage with a convicted felon as somebody adorable, but I believe I changed him. And yes, since that night he’s been shot, and arrested for theft, and been involved in a fatal car accident that led to another murder charge, but I know what gets him through his trials: the affectionate redhead who opened his eyes to spooning.
KUTCHER, ASHTON
High-Tech Nostradamus, Douche Bag
When Kutcher was pushing Twitter hard in its early days, saying it would change lives globally, I tweeted out, “Does Ashton Kutcher have stock in this company?” Obviously, the guy has his finger on the pulse of all things Silicon Valley and has venture capitalist chops to prove it. But in my experience with him, this social media champion is a tool.
We cohosted a charity event in 2005 for uBid.com. The event was star studded with everyone from Jessica Biel to Mila Kunis, and it had an extra spark because this was when Mila was still dating Macaulay Culkin (take that in for a minute) and Kutcher had just married Demi Moore. Jesus, I have been present or involved in some pretty crazy-ass moments. But I digress.
The point of this story is Kutcher, my cohost, did not speak to me once. If you’re wondering how exactly that works, join the club, because I don’t, either. At least three separate times, we were standing in the wings, waiting to go out and present, and I’d say something like, “Hey, what if, when we go out, we do this…,” and suggest something, and he’d just ignore me. We might as well have been strangers standing next to each other in a subway car, which makes the one who starts talking sound like the insane person, especially when the other one refuses to react. At least two times we were out at the podium together, and the silence had been enough for me to almost say, “Ladies and gentlemen, wait a minute, I have to talk to the happy groom…,” just to force him into talking to me, but I didn’t. Because oddly enough, I understood his skittishness about being a high-profile newlywed. And yet if he said five words to me the whole day, I’d be surprised. It was bizarre and rude and made me feel as if he thought I was beneath him, someone not worth talking to in the slightest.
Three years later, I’m grabbing something to eat from the little Mexican takeout place in my neighborhood, and who should walk in but Kutcher and Demi Moore. I smiled and waved. Nothin’. If you won’t say hi to me in the Mexican takeout joint, you’re a d-bag.
Another time, I was talking to P. Diddy, and Kutcher stepped directly in front of me and started talking to Diddy as if I wasn’t even there.
So that’s three incid
ents. Do I loathe him? No. He’s just someone who’s made it perfectly clear to me that I have absolutely nothing to offer him during his precious time on earth.
By the way, I encourage you to look up the photo of us hosting this event because it is one of those photos that just says it all.
LANSING, SHERRY
Studio Chief-ess, Model, Jane of All Trades
Trust me, I am as equally in tune with the groundbreaking women who are behind the camera as well as the women in front of the camera. Sherry Lansing was the first woman to head a major Hollywood studio. She started as an actress, became a producer, then president of Twentieth Century Fox, then later was CEO of Paramount for twelve years. I’ve gotten to know her through the Beverly Hills “mafia” sometimes referred to as the Loop Group.
Sherry knows how to work a power luncheon, which she hosts often. On one of those luncheons in attendance besides Sherry were Bette Midler, Anjelica Huston, Sidney Poitier’s wife, Joanna, and Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter—and little ole me. I’ve always gotten the impression Graydon finds me classless and vulgar. Of course, the reason this bothers me is because I have been a longtime and loyal subscriber to VF.
Often these lunches are all about the seating arrangement. I was happy to be seated next to my pal Sherry, who, by the way, is a great laugher. When Graydon arrived and took his seat next to Sherry, she said, “Graydon, Kathy Griffin’s here. What a treat and a surprise.” Nice tee up, Sherry. Let’s see where this goes. Sherry obviously has the gift of seamlessly putting people together and that day proved herself to be a true friend. I had told her I was nervous about meeting the formidable Graydon Carter.
Next thing you know, as will happen at a lunch party, people started mingling and shifting chairs. I found myself seated between Bette Midler and Graydon with Sherry to his right. I tried to bring my A game in the conversation department. Politics, pop culture, and, most importantly, quoting not one, not two, but three of my favorite VF pieces.
Sherry chimed in, “Isn’t she great? I just love her. Her mind is so fast.” (Thank you, Sherry.)
Graydon finally asked how I knew Sherry.
I said, “I know Sherry because she respects me tremendously.” And he laughed at that. Then I said, “But I don’t know if Sherry knows that she’s married a crazy person.”
And Sherry said, “What?!? (laughing) You think I don’t know THAT?”
Sherry is married to Academy Award–winning director William Friedkin, who made The French Connection and The Exorcist and who—while being an incredibly great filmmaker—has a notorious reputation for being a somewhat volatile perfectionist. Look, Linda Blair’s head didn’t spin itself. I’ve teased him about it, even.
Sherry continued, “Let me tell you my story. I married Billy four weeks after I met him, and twenty of my best friends called me and told me I was making the worst mistake of my life. Then another friend called me and said, ‘You’ll never be bored!’”
I loved that story. And yet I said to Sherry, “When I see Billy, he’s always kind of warm and fuzzy, but I just want you to know, there’s darkness there.”
Sherry laughed and said, “That’s why I married him. Isn’t she great, Graydon? Isn’t she great?”
Graydon? Graydon? I’m ready for my cover …
LATIFAH, QUEEN
Actor, Rapper, My Friend Dana
In the Suddenly Susan days, I remember a moment waiting for an elevator at a hotel, and Queen Latifah came up to me and said, “I’m watching you”—Uh-oh, I thought—“and you’re really funny!” Whew. “I really like your shit. You’re really funny!” I never expected anyone to know who I was in those days, and I remember thinking, Queen Latifah knows who I am! It was really sweet of her.
That led, years later, to appearing on her daytime talk show. Many hosts don’t bother checking in to say hi or meet their guests, but Latifah did. When she came to my dressing room, I shouted, “Come on in, Dana!” knowing I was buck naked. I do love to shock a talk show host—I always have. I have a REAL body. Real boobs, real everything. Gravity does exist. And that is what Latifah saw. I was rushing to finish the full hair and makeup process, which required full nudity. I had a strange, half-done rainbow colors of pale effect in that my arms and legs were covered in very dark bronzer, which would have offset the pale, near-translucent canvas display of my naughty parts in a probably very disconcerting manner. Basically, I’m assuming I looked like a strangely iced gingerbread cookie, or a stripper who fell asleep that day at the beach. I’ve been in this business long enough not to give a rat’s ass who sees me naked anymore. If you think I’m going to wait for you to clear a fitting room before I shed my clothes, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m there for a fitting, not to play demure.
Back to Latifah’s reaction, which was swift and genuine. A lot of “Oh no! Sorry, I should come back later! Are you naked? Kathy, you are too much!” Mission accomplished. I had shocked the host and stayed on schedule with my full-body-bronzing process. I was more than a little flattered when she blurted out, “Dang, girl, you still got it! No wonder you got a young boyfriend!” With that lovely compliment—a nice bookend to her “You’re really funny” intro all those years ago—I half considered forgoing the dress or any of my clothing for my segment. But I decided to wear clothing because 1) it was daytime, and 2) she’s royalty.
LENO, JAY
Comic, The Tonight Show Host, Confidant
Jay was one of my guys. He had me on The Tonight Show multiple times, and with my history of talk show banishment, it was a relationship I’d come to cherish. It had its rocky period, too, as fans of My Life on the D-List well know. During an appearance on The Tonight Show in 2005, I was doing a bit with a picture of me and Carmen Electra, and how she wouldn’t stop calling me for beauty tips, and Jay threw in his own crack, calling the photo a “before-and-after” picture. To this day, I can’t fully explain why I cried about it in the NBC Studios parking lot. It surprised even me. And yet there I was welling up and needing to calm down. I called him out on it afterward as a below-the-belt joke, to which he argued that I should be able to take that kind of humor if it can be said to a man, too. (Our conversation was accidentally recorded by the D-List crew, and I tried to get it played on the show, but I heard the network put the kibosh on it. Can’t confirm that, just heard that was the case.) It was just an all-around horrible scene, and I was off that show for a while.
But then I got invited back, and I have to say, ever since then, it’s been a lovefest with Jay. Since that fight, he’s been one of the kindest, most generous people and a terrific champion of mine. I know he has his detractors, but my personal experience with him is that of an attentive, thoughtful colleague, one who took the time to visit me in the dressing room before every one of my appearances on his show and initiate private chats in which we could talk about anything. It became a ritual. During hair and makeup, he’d stroll in, make a joke, and I’d say, “You know what it’s time for!” Then I rudely kicked everyone out, and Jay and I would settle in on the dressing room couch next to each other and get very candid about whatever was going on in our lives. He opened up to me about what he was going through during the feud with Conan O’Brien, and I could ask him about anything. He even called me up personally after my guest star stint on Law & Order: SVU to tell me I was great.
After my talk show was canceled and I was in a dark place, he told me, “Look, kid, this is what I think. It was a good show, but it was so under the radar, it’s not a fail. Don’t think of it as a show that was canceled. Think of it as two seasons of a talk show that gave you that experience.” Maybe the most valuable thing he said to me was after I’d been complaining about some career slight, not getting a sought-after TV gig that had once again gone to “the other girl,” and he said, “I don’t get it! You’re first chair on The Tonight Show, you’ve got the awards—you won! Be careful what you wish for, because most people I know who end up truly realizing every dream, they went down the toilet very quickly.”
And boy, do I think about that a lot. His advice was, “You want to keep the struggle.”
Here was a guy I’d had a rough start with, and now, all these years later, I cherish our conversations. I like talk show hosts who want to talk, you know? To this day, if Jay and I happen to be headlining at the same casino a night apart, I will go in a day early, or stay a day late, just so I can get our precious one-on-one shoptalk.
LETO, JARED
Actor, Singer, National Oddity
I have an unspoken arrangement with Jared Leto. It’s not enough for him to be gorgeous and a great actor; he’s still got to have the frickin’ band. I remember when Sixty Seconds Over Tokyo, or Thirty Seconds Above Pluto, or whatever his ridiculousness is called, was playing teeny-weeny clubs in town, and Leto was bragging about turning down film and television roles, and I just thought it was absurd. I would look at his guyliner and dyed hair and think, Get a Casio, put it in the basement, and do it on weekends when nobody has to be embarrassed for you. But God love him, he made it successful. Like Jennifer Hudson, he told Hollywood, “You’re going to love me,” and it worked.
Now, it doesn’t mean he loves me. Our friendship is very much one-sided: I’m friends with Jared Leto, even though he isn’t friends with me. I’ll explain it this way: after seeing each other repeatedly over the course of many celebrity-packed events, we have a thing. It’s not sexual, it’s not even necessarily collegial, it’s … like I said, an arrangement.
The thing is, when he was making the awards-season rounds with Dallas Buyers Club, I saw Leto at everything, because he has feet in the acting and music worlds. He’d be at the Screen Actors Guild Awards, and then the Grammys. I’d run into him at a British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) luncheon, and then he’d be at iHeartRadio. So enough time had passed and events transpired at which we’d exchanged pleasantries, that I realized it was time to ramp it up a bit. I can’t remember the first time I homed in and gave him shit, but I do recall at the Eagles concert at the Forum he was sporting two-tone long hair and wearing a poncho, as if he were going to be called onstage to sing “Desperado” that night. He looked like he was in costume, for Chrissakes. I yelled from my seat, “LETO!” He looked back and up and gave me a tentative “hi” wave, and I said, “Hey, Khloé Kardashian called. She wants her hair back!”
Kathy Griffin's Celebrity Run-Ins Page 9