Kathy Griffin's Celebrity Run-Ins

by Kathy Griffin

  After spending the day with her, I quickly realized she’s super smart and a great laugher, and she seemed to understand I’m just a comic doing my job. That was probably helped when I told her, “Look, I’m not guaranteeing you’ll ever be out of my act because we’re buds now, but you have to take it because I’m just a comic doing my job!” (Sometimes you have to be very literal with these A-listers.)

  We’ve become texting buddies and talk on the phone occasionally. I’m proud of this because it’s rare that someone I have given a hard time to in my act gets beyond it. I was especially excited one night when in the middle of a live performance I happened to bring my real phone onstage with me for a bit, and during the show, I got a voice mail from my new bestie, Academy Award winner Renée Zellweger! Without even screening it, I put it on speaker, held the phone up to the microphone, and told the audience we should all listen to this voice mail from Bridget Jones together. This was my moment to prove to thousands of audience members that I am such a pro that I am able to walk the high wire to furiously make fun of whomever I like and yet still garner the love and friendship of those very people. God love Renée. Not only was her message to me hilarious but—and this is why she has awards—she even delivered it in a Meryl Streep–level thick Russian accent. The audience roared with laughter when they heard Renée playing a character saying, “Hello? Um … I know who are you. You keep text meee an then I theenk you got wronk number. PLEEZE don’t call diz number ’gain an don’t text me pleeze. Okay? Thank you, and God bless you. Bye.” Is she a riot or what? I must have played this voice mail for at least my next seven live shows in a row before I finally had a chance to get her on the phone and thank her.

  Days later, my assistant, John, handed me his work phone and told me Renée was on the line. I congratulated her on figuring out a new and exciting way to get into my act without me making fun of her at all. She was giggling. I told her that was no small feat. I asked her what it felt like to be in my act, knowing that voice mail gets uproarious laughter show after show, and yet I don’t have to say one single negative thing about her. She laughed again. She then informed me that the voice mail was NOT from her.

  Um, what?

  This whole time I thought I had been texting and leaving messages for my new friend Bridget. It turns out my assistant had her proper number, and they had been communicating while I had been reaching out to some poor woman who probably just escaped the oppression of an Eastern Bloc dictatorship. I’m not kidding; I did my hilarious in-character voice mail from the supposedly real live Bridget Jones bit for thousands of people. Maybe tens of thousands. Naturally, I immediately blamed Zellweger. She laughed so hard I knew deep down inside she had realized there was a little karmic payback at work.

  “I wish I was that committed, to come up with a character and call you like that,” she said. “But I think you should keep playing it, and I’ll even play along. I love it.” And so you should, Bridget.

  ZEVON, WARREN

  Musician, Werewolf of London, Excitable Boy

  In 1999, singer/songwriter Warren Zevon was a guest star on Suddenly Susan for an episode, playing himself, alongside fellow guest star Rick Springfield, and it was weird and wonderful and inspiring. (By the way, my beloved millennial assistant, John, admitted he didn’t know who Warren Zevon was, so if you need a sec to Google him, go ahead, I’ll wait.) This was three years before he was diagnosed with the cancer that very quickly took his life, and his diagnosis led to a special hour-long David Letterman show on which he was the only guest, which made for a shattering public good-bye to everyone.

  What I remember from his time on Susan was that he was one of the rare musical icons who was naturally funny. He brought his guitar to the set every day. I remember during a break in rehearsal, watching him sitting on one of the sofas singing, “Lawyers, Guns and Money.” His sense of humor was incredibly wry, and I thought, I want to hang in this guy’s orbit as long as I possibly can. I think he just took the gig for fun, because he didn’t seem to know Brooke Shields (or Rick Springfield, for that matter), and it wasn’t as if he was some professed fan of workplace sitcoms starring Calvin Klein models. He might have thought it was a new experience worth checking out. I also wondered if this was one of those situations where four other more well-known musicians turned down the gig, and then we luckily ended up with somebody truly great, instead of somebody just famous. It did lend a strangeness to his scenes, because his humor was delightfully dry, and though he delivered his lines with professionalism and superb timing, I also detected in his respectfulness a belief that he was in a comedic environment not entirely in his wheelhouse. During the tapings, he joked around with the audience between takes, which I’m sure for the 10 percent of them that knew who he was and loved him, it was an experience they’ll remember for the rest of their lives.

  A lot of musicians don’t bring the guitar, don’t want to sing the song, don’t want to be bothered, but he was really the perfect guest—did the work, made friends, wasn’t demanding, made us laugh—and it taught me a lesson. On Suddenly Susan, I was incredibly happy to have that job, and yet I knew that on Saturday night, I could go to a theater somewhere and really say what I wanted to say completely uncensored. I felt as if Warren Zevon was in that frame of mind. Instead of acting like he had better things to do or complaining that nobody got him, his vibe was, “Life’s short. Let’s do something really off the grid and be silly and have fun.” Considering the incredible grace and dignity and artistry he brought to living the last year of his life, it’s a memory I’ll always cherish. Keep him in your heart for a while.

  Afterword

  Now that I’ve walked you through my various and sundry celebrity run-ins, I would like to give you some handy and helpful tips on how to deal with a celebrity run-in of your own. At some point in your life, no matter who you are, you will run into a Kardashian.

  That’s just science. Let’s use their family and extended family—children, husbands, lovers, men who may or may not have the Kardashian curse, someone who is Kim-like or Khloé-ish, whoever is Scott Disick–esque in your world—as an example. The following are guidelines for such an encounter.

  CONSIDER YOUR SURROUNDINGS

  You see Kourtney, but she’s eating. Which she doesn’t, so that’s not a good example. Let’s go with Rob. He’s almost certainly going to be eating. I know that when I’m midbite, and somebody approaches with “I never do this…,” it’s picture time. But Rob should be allowed to finish eating, because otherwise you might lose a good finger. Nevertheless, it’s trickier to have a quality encounter when the celebrity is eating. A Kardashian walking down the street is a better scenario because it’s public, and you’re probably the tenth person who’s approached them that day, anyway. If you see Kourtney shopping, just know you’re bothering her doing what she considers her full-time job, so be considerate.

  DON’T STARE

  You’ll be tempted. It’s a Kardashian, or somebody Kardashian-adjacent. They’re beautiful. You’re going to want to look them right in the face, or faces, as seems to be the case with young Kylie. We may reach a point in surgical technology where their faces or at least their lips start to morph right in front of you. But try to avoid this. I have a look-and-blink-away system. Or should that be Look-and-Blink-Away System, since I plan on trademarking it. It involves a quick glance and then a blink with a head pivot to the left, as if you have something more important to look at, even though you have nothing more important to look at. This move should be quick and decisive. Practice it at home with one of your pets, although your pet may think you’ve gone mad.

  PICTURE VERSUS MENTAL PICTURE?

  We live in a world where the phone is already out, and mental capabilities are way, way down. We live in a camera-first, communication-second society. No coven exemplifies this more than the United Church of Kardashian. Luckily for you, one of them will be Snapchatting before you even approach them. In fact, Kim will have already Snapchatted Candle to tell her
that a stranger is approaching and that all smartphones should be on a high-filter alert. (Although for the Kardashians, the compound word smartphone might be a contradiction. They probably call them fame devices.) So they’ll be ready for you, and you may not even have to ask for a photo. Look for a Kardashian to already be posing: duck face, skin-case light bar on, heavenward glance. That’s the sign to get the photo.

  DO I SAY ANYTHING?

  It’s happened. There they are, Northwest and Saint, right in front of you. You’ll want to gush. They have been on your bucket list for days. And here they are, trippin’ in Daddy’s clown-sized Yeezys, rockin’ Auntie Kylie’s matte liquid lipstick and lip liner, and Rob’s Fuck Off socks. (No, seriously, he sells socks that say FUCK on one, and OFF on the other.) What do you do? You’ll want to gush. Or you’ll see Blac Chyna and want to yell, “Blac! Chyna!” which will sound racist. Now is not the time to panic. In fact, I’ve never met a celebrity who does not respond to the opening line, “Congratulations.” Try it. It takes four seconds for them to come up with the reason they’re being congratulated, and they’re instantly in a good mood. Saint will be smiling because he’s just made his first doody in a toilet, and Northwest will have just shot her first Forbes cover. If it’s Khloé, she’ll assume you mean the solid ratings for her new children’s show, Khloé Kan’t Kount, or as the kids call it, KKK. So keep that in your pocket, saying, “Congratulations.” They’ll instinctively say, “Thank you,” and pow, you’re in the middle of a typical showbiz conversation.

  EXIT STRATEGY

  The last thing you want is for your hero Caitlyn to think you’re a weirdo, so how you end the encounter is extremely important. Don’t goose them. (Caitlyn will pick you up and throw you like a javelin.) Don’t pretend you’re suddenly best friends and invite them to lunch (especially Rob). The best thing to do, after you’ve secured your photo or hug or post-“Congratulations” thank-you, is to smile and walk away. Maybe a passing “I love your new line, Mason.” With that simple blind affirmation, you will be able to exit this encounter smoothly, knowing in your heart that you’ve successfully nourished their egos and given them a reason to live.

  There’s really only one rule to any celebrity run-in you have: don’t follow my example. Have you learned nothing from this book? I screwed up most of the time. My mistakes are there to educate you as you go about your lives, knowing that statistics dictate you’ll run into 2.73 Kardashians a year. (That number will grow.) Do as I say, not as I do. Celebrities everywhere will thank you.

  AUTHOR QUESTIONNAIRE

  Q: Where does the word celebrity come from?

  A: It comes from the Roman word celebritas, which first appeared in the ancient text MaximUS Weekly.

  Q: You describe these experiences as run-ins. Have you ever literally run into a celebrity?

  A: I’ve never actually collided physically with Justin Bieber, but he knows I’m interested in sitting on his face.

  Q: Is there a celebrity you haven’t met yet that you’d like to?

  A: Former president Jimmy Carter. I think he’s afraid I’m going to ask to sit on his face, which I would never do because I love and worship him.

  Q: If you could be any celebrity for a day, who would it be?

  A: Justin Bieber, the day Kathy Griffin sits on his face, which is admittedly a way of saying I want to have sex with myself. Actually, I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to be Ryan Seacrest before he passed away tragically at the hands of Oprah Winfrey. If he’s still alive as of publication, then I rescind this.

  Q: The encounters in this book come with names attached. Tell us a celebrity run-in where you’re afraid to name who it is.

  A: I’m almost positive a certain beloved daytime talk show host once had me kicked out of the backstage dressing room at the Emmy Awards. I can’t prove it, but this person, who has short blond hair, has a mean streak that all of Hollywood knows about.

  Q: Most of the arts are covered here, plus news, sports, and politics. You don’t have any names from religion, though. Are you just not meeting enough priests?

  A: I’m sure not. I will certainly troll some Catholic day care centers for the sequel to this book. That’s where the priests are.

  Q: Will people be surprised to learn that you slept with O. J. Simpson?

  A: Um, we cut that story, remember?

  Q: Oh yeah. Sorry. Whose run-in was just too boring to be included in this book?

  A: I met that dude from Hamilton, Lin Carmen Miranda or whatever. What’s the big fuss? I saw the play, by the way, and it turns out Hamilton isn’t even alive anymore.

  Q: Lauren Bacall once said, “Stardom isn’t a profession; it’s an accident.” Do you agree?

  A: The only accident I’m aware of is the one my beloved mother might have in her diaper after she reads this book. I may be strapping on a diaper myself soon.

  Q: When somebody famous becomes even more famous after you meet him or her, do you see a connection?

  A: Clearly. Thank God somebody finally brought that up. Let’s face it, Aaron Paul is one, if you bothered to read this book. But also, I’m willing to take credit for Facebook. When I met Mark Zuckerberg, he was four hours old. I was visiting a friend in the hospital and peeked through the glass where they keep the newborns, our eyes locked, and I whispered, “Facebook.” I’m still waiting for my check.

  Q: What about if they die after you meet them?

  A: Talk to my lawyer.

  Q: What would a world without celebrities look like?

  A: Your family.

  Q: Why isn’t your dog Larry in this book?

  A: He’s a little overweight, and as you’ve learned from this book, in the celebrity world, that gets you exiled faster than a DUI, a domestic, or first-degree murder, which no forward-thinking celebrity would ever do anyway.

  Q: Did the A-to-Z format prove difficult? What letters did you struggle with?

  A: All I can say is, thank God Christina Aguilera has also been called Xtina. X was a bitch. So was Xtina early on, but you’ll have to read the entry to find out why. Q was tough, until I realized Richard Quest has many, how shall I say this, layers?

  Q: Do you own a selfie stick?

  A: There are four in my gift closet right now. I learn martial arts with them, because I see it as a self-defense weapon. If I see that self-righteous, übergloomy Lorde running at me with her smoky eyes and dark aura, I can fight her off with it. And then, of course, get a picture.

  Q: Oscar Wilde famously said there was only one thing worse than being talked about, and that was not being talked about. Is that one way the people you write about should think about this book?

  A: First off, I thought Olivia Wilde said that. (I just love her fashion sense.) But yes, celebrities in this book who might be upset should get a grip and realize that the minute they aren’t the subject of other people’s stories, they should worry. Are you sure it wasn’t acclaimed child thespian and H. R. Pufnstuf star Jack Wild who said that?

  Q: If Oprah had a celebrity run-ins book, would you make the cut?

  A: The only celebrity Oprah runs into has a name that rhymes with Dayle Ding. And where Oprah runs is into her arms. I don’t judge.

  Q: Which entry was the hardest to write about?

  A: In all seriousness, I’ve never told my Night Stalker story before. He is not a celebrity in any positive way, but that case was so well known, and my participation in it is something that has been nothing but an embarrassment up till now. When I say I was glad to get out of that one alive, I mean it.

  Q: Who didn’t make the cut who should be grateful?

  A: Neil Patrick Harris.

  Q: Is it better to run into a celebrity at a swanky gala event or out and about during the day?

  A: Swanky gala, for sure. Because they have nowhere to run. The women will be in high heels and uncomfortable dresses. Not optimal escape attire. As for the men, even if they have bodyguards, it’s unbecoming to openly tackle a five-foot-three, 110
-pound redhead who is gesticulating wildly and is drop-dead gorgeous.

  Q: Have you ever met Kathy Griffin? I mean, really, really met Kathy Griffin?

  A: You know what? I’ve been to paradise, but I’ve never been to me.

  • AN OPEN APOLOGY FROM KATHY GRIFFIN •

  Dear Reader:

  I’m afraid this section is not for you.

  Love and best wishes,

  Kathy Griffin

  Dear Celebrities Who Are Pissed Off They Are Not in This Book but Won’t Admit It:

  It’s a brutal business. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I’m no longer IN love with you. I still want to be friends. We loved your reading but decided to go with someone younger and thinner, or crazier. Maybe you’re not in this book because you’re famous but a little boring. Have you ever thought about that? You might want to up your game. I’ll be taking meetings for the follow-up over the next few months. Please schedule with my office. Know that my entire staff is LGBTQIA2. (And let’s be honest, the 2s can be moody. Take that into consideration.)

  I’ll need a cover letter, portfolio, and sperm sample. I expect you to be off book and wait for “Action.” Nudity is accepted.

  Men, a word about the casting couch: this simple and time-tried audition process has really gotten a bad rap. Not if but when Drake begs to be considered for the sequel to this book, I suggest he make his best pitch wearing only a carefully placed sock.