Kathy Griffin's Celebrity Run-Ins

by Kathy Griffin

  I had a lot to say to this man. The first thing was “Please tell me you are having as much fun as it looks like you are having!”

  He laughed and told me, “I have so much fun doing this show! How could I not?” Check. Right answer.

  I expressed to him how many longtime successful celebrities I had met who could not simply be happy with their jobs and how refreshing it was hearing from someone who had been so successful in the business for so long describe how fun it is. That’s how I feel. It’s that ease that comes with years and years of going up and down, up and down in the television business that I have found only comes with a certain maturity.

  It took me five minutes to realize that this is a man who has a great sense of humor, a real sense of balance in his personal life, and happens to be a kick-ass businessman. Oh, why are all the good ones married … to Connie Chung?

  He stopped the conversation and said, “What can I do for you?”

  What?

  Folks, this never happens. People who ask this question are not telling you they have some fucked-up agenda or that you are secretly making some deal with the devil that you won’t find out about until later. Guess what? The good news is Maury Povich is one of my idols because he doesn’t need anything from anyone, least of all me.

  We talked about my dreams and aspirations, how I wanted my new talk show to aspire to a level of conversation that Dick Cavett used to bring to television, and he was interested to hear that. He told me he owned a company called Stun Creative, and that knocked me off my seat, because I’d done promos with Stun, and everyone thinks they do great work. He said, “Early on in The Maury Povich Show, the promos other people did were okay, but what I realized was that the promos and the commercials had to be better than the show. So I started my own company, and now we do all the promos for NBC Universal.”

  I raved about Stun, and he offered to help me put together a Stun-quality sizzle reel of existing Kathy content at no charge. It was such a generous offer, I couldn’t believe it. He also told me something fascinating about his deal with NBC Universal on The Maury Povich Show: he used to own it, but it was such a hassle auditing NBC Universal every year to ensure they were being honest that he did the math and told them, “I know what it makes, so pay me this much every year, and you can own it.” Jesus, I practically thought he was going to say, “Wax on, wax off.”

  I said a brief farewell to my sensei, as I had to don my disguise to live another dream of mine and get into character for being the greatest Maury Povich audience member you’ve ever seen. I played this role for two episodes in a row that night. I had the time of my life! I wore a short brown wig. I made my face up in a way that was befitting (how shall I say this delicately?) a true Maury show fan from the Deep South. She had a whole backstory. She proudly wore her “Who’s Your Daddy?” T-shirt, took several bus rides from the trailer park, and was fist pumping with anger every time she felt one of the participants onstage had done his lady wrong. Maury never skipped a beat. He wasn’t distracted by my insane front-row behavior even though I did my damnedest. It was honestly one of the most fun nights I have ever had.

  At the end of the taping, Maury really laid it on thick. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have one more secret to reveal about this sordid tale we’ve all been going through tonight.” Pause.

  Audience moans loudly, “Ooooooo.”

  “That’s right,” Maury continued. “There is someone else in our midst tonight who is NOT who you think they are.”

  Audience even louder, “Nooooooo!”

  Maury continues, “Yes! This woman”—points finger at me—“in the front row is … the … great … comedian Kathy Griffin!”

  Greatest intro ever. Audience went crazy. I ripped my wig off and hugged Maury onstage. Maury then boarded his private jet and went to the Masters.

  QUEST, RICHARD

  CNN Correspondent, Extreme Extrovert, Amateur Park Ranger

  This entry is designed to make Anderson Cooper quake in his Prada shoes.

  I insisted Anderson introduce me to CNN’s lovably loony limey. That’s a lot of alliteration, Richard, but I think you can handle it. I just knew Questy and I would fall in love. Anderson described him in terms that made him sound like a caged animal, and he’s obviously very protective of Richard, so one of the conditions of that particular New Year’s Eve live broadcast was that I not mention any, um, incidents in Richard’s past. By that, I am referring to the following article from The New York Post in 2008: “CNN personality Richard Quest was busted in Central Park early yesterday with some drugs in his pocket, a rope around his neck that was tied to his genitals, and a sex toy in his boot, law-enforcement sources said.” I agreed, because I am willing to give Richard the absolute benefit of the doubt when it comes to being arrested in a park with crystal meth and a rope tied to certain parts of the body. If that isn’t the definition of a victimless crime, I don’t know what is. It doesn’t matter anyway because he’s been back on CNN ever since, lighting up the channel with his over-the-top delivery, and I just find it amusing he’s presented as one of their tent-pole global stars.

  When we did meet one New Year’s Eve, live and on the platform, Richard did the most charming thing: he brought a mistletoe that he wouldn’t stop holding over my head. I am more than happy to open-mouth kiss this colorfully vested, roaringly accented Richard Quest, because well, Christiane Amanpour probably doesn’t have the balls to do it. Richard was like your crazy uncle at Christmas, festively dressed and full of spirit, and when compared side by side on television with my Anderson, I couldn’t have been happier to be the girl in the middle.

  So Anderson need not have worried about me referencing the New York Post article.

  QUINTO, ZACHARY

  New Spock, Loves Pussy

  Zachary looked impeccable in his suit and tie when I came across him at the CNN Heroes event. I needed to point it out. He said it was a Louis Vuitton, tailor-made for him. I was in a form-fitting Zac Posen full-length gown, and Zachary complimented me on how chic it was. Realizing we had younger boyfriends in common, we talked about that. (His is thirteen years younger, mine is eighteen.) We talked about how gorgeous they were and how good they looked in suits. Then we talked about our houses. I mentioned my eight-thousand-square-foot home in the Hollywood Hills, and he described his new Greenwich Village townhome that he and his lover were redoing. We discussed house flipping, the pros and cons. Then it was time for him to go because he had to get onstage and present an award. He looked at me, chuckled, and said, “Wow, this has really been a gay exchange.”

  QUIVERS, ROBIN

  Radio Host, Stern Wrangler, New Age Health Experimenter

  I’ve been enjoying my visits as a guest on The Howard Stern Show since 1996, and I can say that I felt an instant nurturing connection with Robin. (Already we’re talking about an unusual atmosphere, because “nurturing” and “morning radio” are words that don’t typically go together.) Obviously, part of her role is to be the clear-eyed, reflective, cheery counterpoint—and sometimes, laughing audience—to the glorious unbridled rants and activities Howard throws himself in, and it’s earned her plenty of accolades as a multifaceted broadcaster. But it’s also a great cover, too, for when she decides to be naughty. She’ll be on your side for a good part of the interview, and then—zing!—she’ll challenge you. Hers is a very particular skill. Off the air, she’s an angel, even though we’ve really only had personal moments in the hallway at the studio.

  Remembering that Robin was a captain in the air force, I sought her advice when I performed for the troops in Afghanistan and Iraq. So let me remind you, this is not just another story about me telling you about another woman who works in a male-dominated field. She has literally been in the trenches. Oh, and she works with Howard.

  Sometimes I’ll do my best to pry and ask, “C’mon, Robin, who are you dating now?”

  She’ll say, “Yes, I’m dating someone, but that’s as far as this is going.”

 
I said, “Seriously, Robin, I’m not going to ask you if you take it up the butt. That’s Howard’s job.”

  She’ll say, with her signature laugh, “Yes, but I also know who I’m talking to here.”

  Fair enough. We’ve talked dieting a lot, and she’s famously become a vegan who’s promoted a cleanse that involves lemon, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper. And I have incredible admiration for how she’s survived child abuse and cancer. I’m especially fascinated, though, by how she’s navigated a boys’ club for over thirty years.

  When I talk about female influencers of a certain age, I think of Robin, too, as someone whose example has taught me that it’s still a grind. Robin’s job is probably no easier than it ever was—she has to deliver as much as Howard, she has to give as much shit as she gets—and for that, I’ll always gravitate toward Robin whenever I show up for an interview. I remember the backlash, too, she used to get from women of all colors saying she shouldn’t let Howard say the things he says. But I’ve always understood the amount of finesse it takes to roll with this crew hour after hour, day after day, year after year. We’re not talking about elected offices here. I love that she’s this rock, this mainstay, a monument to hard work (when the cancer was at its worst, she did the show from home) and recognizing what her strengths are. We all know Howard wouldn’t be anywhere near as successful without Robin, so in my mind, after all these years, it’s pretty clear who the real winner is.

  Robin, as you can see, I laid it on REAL thick here. Why? Because I know it’s going to kill Howard. Because I know Howard is going to read this passage verbatim the next time I’m on his show and take umbrage to something or challenge me on labeling you an “angel” without irony. Hey now!

  RAY, RACHAEL

  Personal Chef to Kathy Griffin

  I have Rachael Ray’s house keys. Don’t call the police yet. I can explain.

  Whenever I see them in New York, whether I’m at home with them or out and about, Rachael and her husband, John, are that special kind of couple who never make me feel like I’m a third wheel. They are true friends and incredibly gracious hosts.

  The first time they had me over for dinner, Rachael pulled out all the stops with a gourmet meal that took way more than thirty minutes to make and cost a lot more than ten dollars, and I joked, “Rach, half of this stuff I can’t even eat. It’s too exotic. I really was hoping for a good old-fashioned tuna melt.” The next time I went to their apartment, she made me the most delicious tuna melt I have ever had! Also, the fanciest tuna melt I’d ever eaten, with eighteen ingredients from around the world, so I had to keep up the joke: “Okay, Rach, let’s keep it simple next time. Enough with Thai shallots and gribiche aioli. I just want tuna and cheese, and the cheese has to melt.”

  Rachael, who’s as down to earth as they come, has her fun, naughty side when it comes to humor and always teases me about my tastes, which I love. But she knows me and knows what I like. When I was performing my sold-out limited run Broadway show, Kathy Griffin Wants a Tony, at the famed Belasco Theater, I reached out to Rachael and said, “I can’t eat before the shows, I can’t eat after the shows, I’m changing my material every day, and it’s thrown my nutritional habits all out of whack. I have a hotel room with a microwave. I’m starving, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep food down because of my nervous stomach.” So she sent me a tray of the most incredible homemade, all-natural, mouthwatering mac and cheese that I lived on for the week. It was nourishing, thoughtful, and tasty.

  Rachael would have preferred I just stay with her and John. They have a spare room off their apartment that’s really its own spare apartment, and one time she started giving me shit about not taking them up on their offer. I said, “As flattered as I am, I’m never going to stay with you. I know you have a gorgeous apartment, and I can spend weeks hanging out with you, but do you know how loud you guys are? You talk louder than anyone I know! That’s why you had voice surgery—because you yell everything! The husband’s no better! Besides, I sleep late, as in 1:00 P.M., and you two are up at 6:00 A.M. every day to go to the damn gym! Plus, you’re a cabinet slammer. Yeah, I said it. I don’t care if you cook every meal for me. I’m not staying here!”

  Then she pulled me into the guest apartment, saying, “JUST LOOK AT IT! LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL APARTMENT!”

  “You can have it, lady!” I yelled back.

  So we’d gone back and forth with that routine many times, until one night over dinner at her place, she simply gave me her house keys. “I’m tired of this argument,” she said. “I’m just giving these to you. Next time you’re in town, whether we’re here or not, you’ve got the keys to both apartments. Just give me one day’s notice by text, and we’ll clear out the one next door.”

  I just shook my head and said, “You’re like a crazy person! What are you, nuts?”

  “TAKE ’EM!” she said.

  It was like your aunt trying to give you the five-dollar bill: she’s literally shoving them in my pocket. I said, “Okay, I’m going to take them. But I’m going to mail them to you tomorrow.”

  She said, “Now you’re crazy!”

  I was walking back to my hotel that night, Rachael Ray’s house keys jangling in my pocket—even her keys are loud!—and I texted her: “I have your house keys.”

  She texted back, “I want you to have my keys. Why aren’t you getting this?”

  A few days later, back in LA, I called her and said, “Hi, this is Kathy Griffin, and I have your house keys. They’re with me now, but when you get a FedEx package from me and it sounds jingly, it’ll be your keys.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she said. Which, I’ll admit, sealed our friendship forever.

  So now I don’t know what to do. When I see her now and I even start to say, “By the way, Rach, do you still want me to…,” she says, “YES!” No celebrity has ever given me the keys to the house before. And that includes my mother.

  Do I worry that Rachael will be burglarized and that my fingerprints being on her keys, which are in a safe-deposit box, will make me the prime suspect? Yes. But do I also imagine an apocalyptic future, perhaps because Lovatics have taken over the world, and I need to hide out at Rachael’s à la Jodie Foster in Panic Room? Yes. I could live on tuna melts, absolutely.

  REDFORD, ROBERT

  Actor, Hubble (Not the Telescope)

  In 2012, I was asked to present a career achievement award to Hollywood Reporter editor Janice Min at the Los Angeles Press Club’s awards dinner, which was being held at the Biltmore in downtown LA. What was also exciting, though, was that my friend Jane Fonda was getting a Visionary Award that night, and her presenter was going to be the great Robert Redford. I was going to meet him, come hell or high water, even though I knew his publicist would valiantly try to keep that from happening.

  Well, Redford was late, and nothing could start without him being there, which I knew would be driving the publicist up a wall. Then I overheard someone say, “He’s just pulling up.” Time to have an urgent need to hit the ladies’ room. It was my only chance to get face time. I ran up to the hotel’s glass doors as Redford was coming through with his publicist, and I thought, She’s not going to stop me from saying hello. From my perch near the restroom, I darted right up to him and said, “Hello, Mr. Redford. My name is Kathy Griffin, and it’s a pleasure to meet you! I know you’re giving an award to Jane. Well, I’m giving one to Janice Min, so we’re both giving awards tonight!”

  Redford said, “What’s your name again?”

  “Kathy Griffin. I’m a stand-up comedian, and I think tonight is going to be great, and Jane is so excited to see you. By the way, the restrooms are right over here if you want to use one first.” I wasn’t obnoxious. I didn’t ask for a photo or an autograph. And he was completely mellow about it and very nice.

  Well, the presentations started, and Redford did his speech for Jane, which was terrific. Then I did mine about Janice. About two lines in, I decided that I should abandon and just free-style inste
ad, which worked great, and I got big laughs. Whew! I sat down, and Robert Redford, who just looked fantastic in his tux, came up to me and whispered in my ear, “You’re not just funny, you’re sexy as hell.”

  Whaaaa?!? Oh, Bob! I shot back, “Bob! My boyfriend’s right here, and guess what? He’s going to kick your fucking ass!”

  He just laughed and said, “That’s why I love her! Sexy and funny! You’re a lucky man, Randy! Do you know what a great combination that is?”

  And it doesn’t stop there. Years later at a Women in Entertainment power breakfast, Redford was giving an award to Barbra Streisand, and as he was going over her career, he got hung up trying to remember the club where he met her.

  Redford, wondering aloud from the podium: “What was that place you played, Barbra?”

  Streisand, from her table: “The Bitter End.”

  Redford, not hearing her: “What was the name of it?”

  Streisand, again: “The Bitter End!”

  Redford, still not hearing her or even grasping that she’s speaking: “Little place in the Village. Everybody played there. Lenny Bruce…”

  Me, standing up and shouting: “BOB, IT WAS THE BITTER END!”

  Redford, now hearing: “Who was that, anyway?”

  Someone in the crowd: “KATHY GRIFFIN.”

  Redford, my new boyfriend: “Oh yeah … she’s terrific.”

  My heart: pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat …

  RICKLES, DON

  Mr. Warmth, Fearless, Genius

  The night I met the one-of-a-kind Don Rickles, it was like a Rat Pack experience. His beloved late son, Larry, worked on Suddenly Susan, and one day, he said, “By the way, my dad is Don Rickles, and he invited all of you to Vegas.” What? Seriously? Yes, please … I’ll have some more!

  The whole cast went—Brooke, Nester, David, and myself. We sat in a classic Vegas showroom booth at the Flamingo. Brooke Shields was engaged to Andre Agassi at the time. Having watched Don Rickles famously pick certain people out of audiences on countless television specials and lovingly rib them was something I could have only dreamed of actually witnessing in person. About halfway through the show, sure enough, Don did the old-school “Ladies and gentlemen, we have some special guests in our audience tonight. The beautiful Brooke Shields [applause] and her fiancé, tennis champion Andre Agassi [more applause]!” Here we go, I thought. This is going to be freaking classic. And it was.