I also want to thank Jeff Zucker, who has done very little for me but thinks he discovered me. Jeff Gaspin, same thing. The Bravo gang: Lauren Zalaznick, Frances Berwick, Cori Abraham, and of course, Andy Cohen. Now can I get a fucking billboard? I love you freaks. Sorry, gotta go. Les Moonves is on the other line.
My doggies, Chance and Pom Pom.
My Emmys, Emmy and Emily. Yes, I named them. Guys name their dicks, for Chrissakes. Get over it.
A New Jersey Housewife said it best. “Let me tell you something about my fa-muh-lee. We are as thick as thieves, and we protect each other to the end.” Or until our annual Christmas fight. Ladies and gentlemen, the Griffins: my brothers John, Gary, and even Kenny; my sister Joyce; a beautiful Irish rose named Maggie, and the man who loved her so.
OFFICIAL
BOOK CLUB
SELECTION
KATHY GRIFFIN
READING GROUP GUIDE
A CONVERSATION WITH
KATHY GRIFFIN
Random House: State your name and profession.
Kathy Griffin: My name is Kathy Griffin, and I am a teller of dick jokes. And a plumber.
RH: It appears your pen is as profane as your tongue. Where did you learn to swear?
KG: I learned to swear from the masters, the priests and nuns at a little church called St. Bernadine’s. I also learned some good swear words from other parishes, but I would say the Chicago parishes and the adjacent suburban parishes really have it down. In addition to that, I would just say I probably learned swearing from the mean streets of Forest Park, Illinois. The other four-year-olds were pretty rough in my neighborhood. I’m not gonna lie. Chicago dockworkers were afraid of them.
RH: This is your first book. Had you ever considered writing anything before? A novel? Or a scholarly work of history? Or a children’s story?
KG: I had not considered it, because I’d always been told by the nuns at St. Bernadine’s that my cursive was poor. A children’s story is an interesting idea. How’s this for a title: Waterboarding Preteens: The Debate Is Back On. I have a political side as well.
RH: How much did your Irish Catholic heritage play into being a pain in the ass to celebrities?
KG: I feel that while I have never had a drink in my life, I have the audacity of a serious alcoholic. And when I say alcoholic, I am certainly not referring to anyone in my family, who may have ever had a problem with the drink. Because if there’s one thing you should know about my family, and all of my relatives, it’s that none of them have a drinking problem at all, that I have made it all up, because I am, let’s get this right, “dramatic.”
RH: When you were a child, you performed for your family. What advice do you have out there for parents enduring their obnoxious brat’s self-indulgent showboating?
KG: I am a firm proponent of monitored tasing. I believe it can be done in a controlled, humane way. I am also in favor of having your child on a bridle-style leash in the mall, or just in their room. But if they do insist on doing shows, you should hold them up to a Broadway standard. And if they don’t give a good performance, you should be able to pummel them with fruit, and talk to them about how perhaps they could learn a little something from the vaudeville days, when there were no child labor laws. Look, I don’t care for children. I don’t think they’re special, except yours. I don’t think they’re attractive, except yours. And I don’t think any of them are gifted, except yours.
RH: You seem fairly obsessed with Oprah. Is this something you’ll ever outgrow?
KG: I will never outgrow my obsession with Oprah. Just as she will never outgrow her cardigan sweaters. Oops, she already has. Now look, that sounds like a dig, but it’s not. It’s called a struggle, and I’m on it with her. I support her. (Not as much as she needs those underwire bras to support her, because she’s got some serious ropes and pulleys going on there.) The point is, I worship her, and fear her at the same time. And believe me, that’s how she wants it. Don’t be fooled.
RH: Did I miss something? Where’s Celine Dion in this book?
KG: I didn’t write about Celine Dion, only because of my fear of her husband Rene Angelil. I have an unfounded but constant fear that he could be in the French-Canadian diva-by-association Mafia. Or have French-Canadian diva-by-association Mafia ties, and by ties I don’t mean les cravats. And I fear that I may be abducted, whisked away, and held prisoner at a charming little brasserie in Montreal, forced to eat multiple croque monsieur sandwiches until I confess to knowing the lyrics to every single one of her songs.
RH: You mention a lot about wanting to be Rhoda. Did you ever get to meet Valerie Harper?
KG: As a matter of fact, I have met the great Valerie Harper a couple of times. The first time was on a television panel, with myself, Valerie, Cindy Williams, and Diahann Carroll—Dominique Deveraux from Dynasty—who loves to tell anyone in that stuffy, almost British-but-mandatory-if-you’re-in-an-eighties-prime-time-soap accent, “I. Was. The first. Black. BITCH. In prime time.” Anyway, during the panel, one of the questions from the moderator was about reality television. Valerie went on to give a diatribe about how it was really the dawn of a horrible age in television, and that, in the time of Shakespeare, people needed scripted works to entertain them and help raise them to a higher level of intellect. She went on and on, made a very good argument against reality television, and then I rose my hand up and said, “Have you guys seen Survivor? It’s fucking awesome. They don’t even eat for like, thirty days, except sometimes they just eat dirt. And sometimes they have to fuzz out their genitals.”
RH: You spent many years in the showbiz wilderness. What’s in your “survival backpack” for that kind of journey?
KG: Blame. I feel it’s essential to blame others for your failures. It’s comforting. Also, as you’ll remember from my binge-eating chapter, combining salty foods with sweet foods in an irrational manner, i.e., potato chips and Rolos, which are a chocolate-covered caramel candy, is something that I find helps me get through difficult post-audition moments. Also, it’s important to stay hydrated. But not too hydrated, or else you’ll have to wear a catheter. Which I did one time, but for a different reason, as you might also recall from the book. But let me just say this: I am more pro-catheter than the medical industry gives me credit for. So that would be blame, Rolos, potato chips, and a catheter.
RH: Of all the possible stories you could have told about Andy Dick, you chose a balmy spring night at the University of North Florida. Why that one?
KG: I feel that that story has all the great elements of a typical experience with Andy Dick. I cannot tell you how many holiday parties I’ve had, and especially my yearly Kwanzaa festival, where my comedy world friends sit around and have bizarrely similar stories about Andy Dick. The locations change, but the story’s always the same. There’s drugs involved, and some vomiting, a lot of confusion and anger, and maybe his fly going down, and Andy taking his penis out. And when the inappropriate behavior reaches its peak, then it’s a lot of us looking around the room saying, “That happened to me, too.” Mine just happened in Jacksonville.
RH: What do you think gays should take away from reading this book?
KG: I think the gays should be happy with this book. It talks a lot about being who you are, and I certainly mention a lot of gay people. I would say it definitely has strong gay themes, and the gay community should know that frankly it has been a moral struggle for me even to acknowledge the heterosexual community in this book at all. But I am slowly reaching out an olive branch to the heterosexual community, even though I believe everything they do goes against the teachings of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. But I’m trying not to judge them.
RH: Please, one more Brooke Shields story.
KG: No. I think I have more Brooke Shields stories in my book than in hers. What was that one she wrote in the ’80s about being a virgin? The Brooke Book, I think? Well, hell, I’m a virgin, too. I’m real scared of vaginal intercourse, because I’m just not ready yet. And someday I
’m going to get my menstrual period. Now will you fuckers at Wal-Mart sell this book?
RH: You’ve done such an amazing job describing the sights, sounds, and aromas of incredibly bad dates. What are your methods of recall?
KG: Well, I studied serious acting at the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute, and they have an exercise there called sense memory. It means I am a much more serious actress than Meryl Streep, or her brother Joe Streep, the little-known Streep no one talks about. And what I cannot recall through my senses, I make up. So I’m a believer in the truth, the senses, and then making some shit up if you think it’s funnier than the truth.
RH: Everyone might be a little concerned that you have nice things to say about Jessica Simpson. Does an act of reflection like book writing soften memories slightly?
KG: Writing this book has definitely distorted my memories of certain celebrities, so it may surprise you who I have fond stories about. But also, come on, I do a lot of shit-talking about Steve Martin, who I guarantee you will never remember meeting me. Nor should he. But I’m kind of proud of that paragraph or two because I think it’s really out of left field. I’m hoping someone in Camp Martin will call him at some point and say, “Uh, there’s this really weird part in Kathy Griffin’s book where she just talks shit about you, Steve.” And then he’ll harrumph and go to a gallery opening with Lorne Michaels, and it’ll all be better.
RH: If we were to call the incomparable Maggie Griffin and ask her for her take on the stories about her in this book, what would she say?
KG: Maggie Griffin will deny like it’s Watergate. Or she will say, “I don’t recall.” She may actually get Nixon advisor John Dean’s wife Maureen to sit behind her like she did for the Watergate hearings. My mother proudly says that denial is in fact a river in Egypt, and she is on a canoe.
RH: Who did you decide wasn’t worth writing about in this book?
KG: I decided it wasn’t worth talking shit about talk show hosts, because they’re the only people in the book who can actually fuck me by not having me on their shows to promote the goddamn book. So all you talk show hosts, you know who you are, you know what you did, and you’re off the hook for now. I’d like a muffin basket from each one of you.
RH: Voltaire once wrote, “Work keeps at bay three great evils: boredom, vice, and need.” Do you care what Voltaire had to say?
KG: For a model she sounds like a really smart lady, and I think it’s great that she had so many things to say. So she’s supercool. I’m gonna sext her later.
RH: Do you consider yourself an inspiration to women everywhere?
KG: If by women you mean drag queens, then the answer is yes. I am an inspiration to women, he/shes, the LGBTQI community, and if you can tell me what the “Q” and the “I” are for, you get a handjob. But I do inspire them. “Q” might be “Queer.” It could also be “Query,” like you’re asking about which sex you’re going to be. And I’m not sure, but “I” has to be “Interesting.” As in, “Check that one. Interesting!” But look, I’m not putting anyone in a box, so gays, stop your letter-writing campaigns right now. I think you’re all great. I don’t care if you have a penis or a vagina or a pagina, or a venis. You’re all great. You’re all fabulous.
RH: What do you say to those who think women aren’t funny?
KG: I know you’re talking about Jerry Lewis, so I say, “Bring it on, old man. And don’t forget your meds.” Look, all female comics battle the chicks-aren’t-funny stigma, all day and all night, and mostly at night. All I can tell you is that no one makes me laugh in my life more than my girlfriends. When I think about those times as a kid when I was in my pjs at a girl sleepover—I’m talking to you, Patty Sapienza—they would have me on the floor in stitches, everything from making fun of the popular girls—I’m talking to you, Mary O’Hanrahan—to impersonating the meanest of nuns. (I’m talking to you Sister … I’m still too afraid to say your name.) So I don’t know where that bullshit about women not being funny came from. Whoever says chicks aren’t funny has not seen my aunt Irene on Christmas Eve with a few Tom Collins in her singing “Danny Boy,” because that’s some hilarious shit.
RH: Describe your ideal, make-a-wish day of personal experiences with batshit celebrities.
KG: Well, it would start with some sort of a fit in the hair-and-makeup trailer on a set. I heard a story that when Sharon Stone was working on Casino, she got into such a fight with her hairdresser, that after he spent four hours doing this beautiful bouffant hairdo for her, she got up and walked to the sink and put her head under water. I have no idea if that’s true, but I hope it is, cause that’s some awesome shit I would love to see. Then it would go right to lunch, where I could witness an eating disorder. Maybe a Lohan is purging in a bush somewhere with her finger down her throat. Or perhaps there’s an Olsen twin on a scale crying because she finally tipped 100. Any outburst over weight I would cherish. Also, it would be great to see an actress have a workload meltdown. So maybe at 2 p.m. some A-lister saying, “I can’t handle this shit anymore.” Because I love when actors can’t deal with a normal workday, and they think two in the afternoon is like midnight, so I would love to see somebody storming to their car, exhausted because they’ve put in a grueling four-hour workday of saying three lines and texting their nanny. Then it’s maybe off to an illicit affair. At the top of my wish list would be following a rapper or a football player over to his baby mama’s house where a screaming match ensues to the point where someone, maybe me, has to anonymously dial 911, and then I take a couple pictures, and I become an unannounced star witness later at the trial, entering Joan Collins–style in a smashing hat. And then at the end of the day it’s a healthy round of clubbing with Janice Dickinson, and then on the way home we go to the Beverly Glen pharmacy and run into Paula Abdul. All three of us secretly take our small white-paper pharmacy bags and put them behind our backs and make uncomfortable small talk. And then we go back to Andy Dick’s house and Janice, Paula, and I fuck the shit out of him.
RH: Everyone from Mac-heads to Dancing with the Stars fans want to know, what was up with your relationship with billionaire Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak?
KG: Turns out I was banging Steve Jobs the whole time, but I have a really good reason for it, which I’ll have to go into in the next book.
READING GROUP QUESTIONS AND TOPICS FOR DISCUSSION
1. Kathy’s Irish Catholic grandfather left his wife when she wouldn’t bear any more children for him. What other ways is organized religion completely fucked?
2. Kathy grew up in a home where drinking was prevalent, encouraged, and embraced. How many of you are drunk right now? Did you know Two Buck Chuck is for sale at Trader Joe’s today? Can you pick up Maggie on your way there, please?
3. Catholic school was a source of emotional pain and fear for Kathy, but she rose above it by talking shit to mean girls’ faces. Did Jesus start weeping for Kathy then? Or much later, after he was told to suck it on national television? Or is Jesus too busy dealing with Lindsay Lohan—not to mention Ali—to care about what Kathy says?
4. Kathy watched a lot—I mean, A LOT—of television growing up. If the average American child watches eight hours of television a day, how is it that Kathy managed to watch twenty-seven hours a day? Could Kathy have a superpower? Is there anything you used to do for hours on end that’s made you who you are? Besides masturbating?
5. When she was in high school, Kathy gravitated toward gays. Did you go to high school? Are you gay? Have you experimented? Are you what Oprah would refer to as “on the down low”? How often and why?
6. Kathy openly discusses a binge-eating disorder that plagued her for years. Have you ever struggled with such a disorder? Do you want to go to Costco later?
7. Kathy has a thing for donuts: hot, sugary donuts. And a thing for donut fryers, as unpleasant as that sounds. Would she have become nearly as famous and successful if she had been really into tofu? Or arugula? Or sushi? Would she have fucked a sushi chef?
8. When Kathy discovered stand-up, she found her calling. Do you think you’re funny enough to do stand-up comedy? Well, you’re not. Bye now.
9. Kathy blew her audition for Saturday Night Live and ruined her shot at being a neglected female cast member on a famous TV sketch show. When have you blown your big chance? Have you ever wondered what it is that makes Lorne Michaels cast people like A. Whitney Brown?
10. In the chapter “Brooke Shields, Don’t Read This,” Kathy tells stories about television and beauty icon Brooke Shields. Do you have an icon of beauty and perfection in your life who you try to learn from? Are you Brooke Shields? If you are Brooke Shields, did you go ahead and read this, even though you were told not to? How often and why?
11. Kathy was once unwittingly privy to the sight of Rodney Dangerfield’s balls. Have you ever been scarred by the accidental sight of someone’s genitals who wasn’t a member of Young Hollywood? Is Congress doing enough about this issue?
12. Kathy writes that, to this day, Jerry Seinfeld is the A-lister who’s taken her jabs with the most grace and humor. Is this because Jerry is secretly in love with Kathy, and obviously miserable in his sham of a marriage, going so far as to have children with that woman simply to make Kathy jealous? Has this ever happened with you and Jerry Seinfeld?
13. In the chapter “Nip/Fucked,” Kathy Griffin details her many experiences with plastic surgery, including a near-death occurrence from liposuction. Have you had any work done? Did it help you advance in your chosen field? Would you like me to ask again, Nicolette Sheridan? I mean, Arnold Schwarzenegger? I mean, Barack Obama? Okay, it’s just a hunch. I’m pretty sure he only gets a little Botox now and then.
Official Book Club Selection Page 30
