Everybody Curses, I Swear!

by Carrie Keagan

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  Table of Contents

  About the Authors

  Copyright Page

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  FOR

  KOUROSH

  THERE IS NO SHE WITHOUT HE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To all the people who believed I wasn’t doing porn

  when I told them I was making uncensored online videos.

  To those who understood that no good didn’t mean not good.

  To those who used kind words when talking about my dirty ones.

  To those who made me a part of their family.

  To those who had no choice about who’s part of their family.

  To all of you reading this.

  From the bottom of my fucking heart,

  THANK YOU.

  Many thanks to my editors, Michael Homler and Lauren Jablonski, Steve Cohen and everyone at St. Martin’s Press whose patience, guidance, and graciousness made this book possible. I’d also like thank Kourosh Taj, Dibs Baer, Josh Wolf, Beth Spruill, Emily Carroll, David Komurek, Matt Sayles, and Sue Carswell for their talent and contributions.

  I am endlessly grateful for the support and guidance of my indefatigable and dedicated partners in crime—David Sherman, Jason Hodes, Strand Conover, and Eric Lupfer at William Morris Endeavor; Bob Lange, Esq., and Jill Smith, Esq., at Kleinberg Lange Cuddy & Carlo; Lauren Auslander and Janelle Nazario at PMK·BNC; Seth Gettleson and Larry Witzer at Gettleson, Witzer & O’Connor; and Christian Herles and Sabine Zygmanowski at REBEL Media GmbH—along with my inspirational consultants: Hans Zimmer, Harry Gregson-Williams, Leah Horwitz, Rick Krim, W. G. Snuffy Walden, Aaron Sorkin, Jimmy Fallon, and Sylvester Stallone.

  Much love to my wonderful family. Thanks for giving me the strength and courage to reach far beyond my grasp: Mom and Dad; Sean, Jill, and Piper; Katie, David, Alexis, Kira, and Rhys; Keith Jeffery; George, Peggy, Dan and Virginia; Willie Nile, Margie, Lucas, JoJo, Mary, Bob, and Isadora; Maryanne, Alfonso, Alicia, and Claire; Barbie, Dave, Erin, Lauren, and David; Brian, Trevor, Crystal, Altar, Terry, Michael, Dennis, Patty, Kevin, and Bobby; Danny, Carol, Colleen, and Kathleen; Guy, Florence, Clint, Vicky, Guy, and Janet Carbonneau; Parto Seyed-Kazemi; Iraj and Shirin Hamidi; Simin Daneshvar; Natasha Hamidi; Norman, Scarlett, Kianshah, and Junior Patten; Tania Hamidi; Hasti Ebadati, Nazanin and Aseman.

  And a heartfelt debt of gratitude to my dear friends for being crazier than me so I could feel normal: Kenneth Stroscher; Quentin Owens; Michael Ore; Hannah McCarthy; Avi, Lori, and Doron Kipper; Jessica Hoffman; Niki Schwan; Richard Rudy; Troy and Melissa Hardy; Mo Nakamoto; Rich Jacobellis; Brian Richards; Bruno Roussel; Cameron Malin; Gino Bona; Michael Markarian; Johnny Hunt; Paul & Chuck “The Movie Guy” Thomas; Pete LoPiccolo; Kevin Rubio; Leo Quinones; Colin Malone; Peter and Candy Judson; Mike, Traci, Cassie, and Ryan Nugent; Dave Greenhalgh; Lynn Lovallo Ferenc; Jesse Farber; and Brian Yurko.

  INTRODUCTION

  THE ENCYCLOPEDIA HYSTERICA FOR THE CURSING CONNOISSEUR

  Cock-juggling thunder cunt.

  That’s my favorite curse word. So vile, so visceral, so poetic. It feels like a Vivienne Westwood ensemble from the seventies. Rebellious, absurd, tasteless, precarious, and powerful, all wrapped up into one plaid, pleated, and politically incorrect pantsuit. You can’t get the image out of your mind just like you’ll never forget this curse word. I heard it for the first time in one of my favorite guilty-pleasure movies, the 2004 masterpiece Blade: Trinity. In it, Ryan Reynolds’s character, Hannibal King, was being held captive by a demented vampire queen played by Parker Posey. Tied up and maybe a little turned on, Hannibal spat at her, “You cock-juggling thunder cunt!” My eyes widened, my jaw dropped, I felt a slight tingling sensation, and I believe I had my very first sweargasm. It was like witnessing the triple Salchow of cuss-outs—dazzling yet dangerous—and oh, so inspiring. I immediately put it into regular rotation in my vocabulary. If you don’t think cock-juggling thunder cunt really rolls off the tongue nicely, you’re either lying or you’re doing it wrong! Like the one night I got a little elegantly elevated (aka drunk) and hit my head on a parking meter. It came flying out of my mouth so organically and effortlessly: “cock-juggling thunder cunt.” On a side note, I do find it funny that the man who helped craft Chris Nolan’s Batman trilogy and Zack Snyder’s adventures with the Justice League was the creative genius who gave birth to the cock-juggling thunder cunt, at Marvel of all places: David S. Goyer, my hero!

  Before we go any further … if you’re offended by the idea of a cock-juggling thunder cunt, or that sometimes I get shitfaced and fall down, I’m afraid this book is not for you. Just close the cover or tap that [x] right now. Go back to your local/digital bookstore and choose something safer. Might I suggest the incredibly charming Games You Can Play with Your Pussy by Ira Alterman, or there’s the wonderful coffee-table book by Graham Johnson, entitled Images You Should Not Masturbate To—a personal favorite.

  For the rest of you, welcome to my wonderful world of potty-mouthed depravity! By the way, most of us live in this world. The average person swears eighty times a day, according to a thing I found on Wikipedia that I choose to believe. Sounds like a lot, but it really isn’t considering it’s only about 0.7 percent of the estimated sixteen thousand words you speak all day. Here’s what eighty curse words looks like. It’s surprisingly small:

  Arse. Asshat. Ass-jabber. Assmuncher. Asswipe. Ballbuster. Bastard. Bitch. Blowjob. Boner. Bullshit. Bumfuck. Bumblefuck. Buttfucker. Camel toe. Carpetmuncher. Clitface. Clusterfuck. Cockburger. Cockjockey. Cocksucker. Cooch. Cooter. Cumguzzler. Dickwad. Dickweed. Dildo. Dingleberry. Dipshit. Dookie. Douchebag. Douche nozzle. Dumbass. Dyke. Fartface. Fat-ass. Felching. Fist-fuck. Flamer. Fuckface. Fuckstick. Fuckwad. Hard-on. Hair pie. Hand job. Jagoff. Jizz. Kiss-ass. Knob-polisher. Lameass. Lardass. Lezzie. Muffdiver. Nutsack. Peckerhead. Pencil-dick. Pissflaps. Polesmoker. Poon. Prick. Pube. Pussy. Queef. Rimjob. Schlong. Shitbag. Shitface. Shithead. Shithole. Shitbreath. Shitstain. Shit-for-brains. Slut. Snatch. Spooge. Titty-fuck. Twat. Twatwaffle. Wanker. Whore.

  Okay, so maybe those are the eighty creative curses I might say in a day—sometimes by 10 A.M. Truth is, I actually have a really big vocabulary for someone who says fuck so often. I’m not saying I’m sesquipedalian for sesquipedalian sake, but I happen to agree with Kelly Preston, who once told me, “People think that just because you say fuck, you have a limited vocabulary; well I say fuck that!” Don’t feel bad if your bank of bad words is slightly more basic. I’ve made a career and an art form out of swearing, so my Rolodex is kind of unparalleled. But I assure you that by the time you’re done reading this book, you just might become the most colorful person in your school, workplace, community center, synagogue, PTA, or local YMCA. And by colorful I mean blue, lots of shades of blue. So enjoy the added attention, and don’t forget to laugh when the door hits you in the ass as they throw you out.

  You might know me best as the host and producer of VH1’s Big Morning Buzz Live with Carrie Keagan, but for the last ten years I’ve also been t
he co-creator and lead anchor of the groundbreaking Internet network and YouTube sensation No Good TV (NGTV.com). Before Judd Apatow made “being dirty” mainstream, before Will Ferrell challenged the world to be Funny Or Die, I was doing uncensored, comedy-driven, and raw video interviews with movie stars, rock stars, TV stars and the like. I earned the nickname “the Naughty Critic” after doing more than nine thousand of these things with every A-, B-, C-, and D-lister you can think of: young and old, highbrow, lowbrow, and unibrow. From George Clooney to Cheech & Chong, I’ve cursed with them all!

  I’ve gone toe-to-toe with virtually every celebrity in Hollywood and lived to tell the “fucking” tale. And luckily, I’ve been taking notes. Here’s what I found out: Stars—they’re just like us! They have a penchant for profanity and when given the opportunity, as they are in my interviews, will come up with the most outstanding and creative swear words you could ever imagine. They spend most of their time being on their best behavior during countless other interviews they have to do, so when they’re in front of me, and I tell them that anything goes, they happily go for it. And why shouldn’t they? Cursing is the tie that binds: the great equalizer. It makes them more relatable, it makes them more human, and it makes us love ’em even more. That’s right! If you really think about it, I’ve been performing a public service by building a bridge between the fans and their idols, a bridge built with the magic fairy dust of coprolalia, which comes from the Greek kopros, meaning feces and lalia, meaning to talk … do the math!

  Take Sandra Bullock. For years we couldn’t get her to sit down for an interview because she was “America’s sweetheart” and NGTV didn’t exactly vibe with her squeaky-clean persona. But in 2009, when she was promoting the romantic comedy The Proposal, her people finally gave us the green light. It was the beginning of a beautiful, filthy friendship that has, on at least one occasion, resulted in me spanking her ass on camera. Our sit-downs feel so good because, free at last, she’s able to be herself, which is, in her own words, a “drunken sailor.” For example, during our interview for The Heat, with co-star Melissa McCarthy, the conversation naturally turned to girl balls:

  Me: Is it fair to say this film is so funny, it will tickle your little girl balls?

  Sandra: Yes, it’ll wet your girl balls, as well.

  Melissa: Yes. Yes.

  Me: That’s our goal: to wet your girl balls. Everyone should be walking around with little wet girl balls.

  Sandra: I totally agree. Mine are wet now.

  Melissa: I’ve said it so many times.

  Sandra: Yes, you have.

  Me: Do they have to be little, though? Because I feel like sometimes I’m walking around with some big sweaty boy balls.

  Sandra: The nice thing about girl balls is that we don’t want them showing sometimes because of the way the outfit works, so you want to be able to just tuck.

  Melissa: She likes a discreet ball.

  Sandra: I like a discreet ball. Powerful, yet something that can be tucked away.

  Me: You were wearing Spanx in this movie, obviously.

  Sandra: My Spanx hold in my girl balls.

  Me: They hide your giant girl balls.

  Sandra: That’s right. You’re the first person to bring that up.

  Me: I’m so glad, and I don’t know how that’s possible.

  Sandra: Well, some people just don’t have the eye … for detail. It requires someone with balls themselves to see.

  Me: YES! (Cupping my fake balls in the air.)

  Sandra: My balls! (Cupping her fake balls in the air.)

  These kinds of interviews are my favorite; when the words coming out of someone’s mouth defy any expectations and surprise me into a giggle-fest. I love bringing that out of people. It means that they are truly comfortable with me. To me, the mark of a good interview is when you forget you’re watching an interview because it feels like a normal fucking conversation!

  (Of course when you see these interviews online or on TV, they are cut up by the promotional film clips provided by the studios, so you don’t get quite the full flavor I’ve enjoyed in person and that you can read in transcript form here.)

  You might be asking: What’s so hard about that? My answer: Have you ever tried to wash a cat? Well I have and it’s pretty fucking hard! And, I have the scars to prove it. Pretty much all celebrity interviews, especially the A-list, take place as part of the well-oiled PR machine that is show business. There is a structure and a format for everything, and all of it takes place in a completely controlled environment behind a towering, burning wall that is impenetrable to all but a select few lucky journalists affectionately referred to as “junketeers.” I think of us as a lovable group of misfits, hustlers, and pop-culture poets. Now, who gets to go behind this wall and how they do it is, if we’re being brutally honest, an entire book unto itself. Think Fifty Shades of Grey meets The Little Engine That Could. So we’ll save that for another time.

  Now, once you get past the wall and enter this exclusive media speakeasy, you become keenly aware of the rarified air you’re now breathing, the incredible access to talent you’re getting, and how much you don’t want to fuck this up by doing something stupid. The last thing you’d want to do is cross the gatekeepers of this sacred cabal and risk an expulsion handled with the cold indifference of a greeter at Soho House. Trust me: Nobody knows how to make you feel like shit like the low paid, self-entitled misanthropes suffering from club-bouncer syndrome at Soho House. So my personal mission of reinventing the wheel was about to go face-to-face with the inventors of said wheel. The prognosis was murky at best, and by murky I mean I’m bleeding so heavily in the ocean that I can’t even see the great white shark blowing air bubbles in my face.

  You see, for the most part, celebrity interviews are a bit like bananas. They all kind of look the same. They all kind of taste the same. Some are sweet and mushy while some are noxious and rotten but they all come in the same neat, familiar little package. They are easy to consume, easy to dispose of, and leave very little mess. That’s why it’s called the perfect fruit. Show business thrives on the comforts of familiarity, and I don’t blame them. There’s too much money at stake, so there’s no room for apples, oranges, or the occasional wild cucumber. I’ve been doing this for well over ten years, and I’ve seen them all come and go. I still shed the occasional tear over the wild cucumber. But in the end, you must respect the banana!! The banana is life.

  What you may or may not know is that most news and entertainment outlets in the world are banana farms, so this is a perfect system. Everybody gets what they want. My company, No Good TV, and I were new to the scene, we were more “colorful” than most, and we needed to differentiate ourselves if we were to have any chance of surviving. So the challenge was how to stand out in this game of One Banana, Two Banana. We found our answer in a riddle: When is a banana not a banana?

  The answer: When it’s an apple banana.

  So instead of reinventing the wheel, we merely altered the chemistry. My interviews look like a banana, they feel like a banana, they pretty much have the consistency of a banana, but they taste like an apple. And guess what? I discovered that at a typical junket or press event, after a day of being served the same banana, the talent couldn’t wait to taste the crisp and refreshing bite of my apple banana. I had become one with the banana, and everybody wanted a nibble.

  “My favorite curse word ever is cocksucker motherfucker! That’s all I’m sayin.’”

  —Cameron Diaz

  Keep an eye out throughout the book for more of these wonderful Swear Jars featuring even more celebrity cursing favorites as told to me by the celebrities themselves!

  I know that a lot of people question what I do and how I do it. I’ve been called vulgar, crass, sophomoric, offensive, dirty, and dumb. And that was just in one article. But, honestly, I don’t give a fuck. Those words can never hurt me. I have made a career out of giving people a fun and safe place to verbally let their hair down. And the audience loves it
! My interviews for NGTV have more than TWO BILLION views online. So how does my banana taste now, haters?!

  I worked really hard to get those two billion views. How did I do it, you may wonder? It’s about more than my boobs, but thank you for noticing. Some women fucked their way to the top, but I literally “fucked” my way to the top. My journey is no blueprint; it’s just my journey. I didn’t have it all figured out. In fact, I didn’t have any of it figured out. Along the way, my weaknesses became my strengths and my ignorance became my edge. You see, I’m not a trained journalist in the classic sense, or in any sense, and I don’t know all of the “DOs and DON’Ts” they teach you in broadcast journalism school. I didn’t know much about the decorum of an interview and how things were supposed to be done, and I had no fear because I didn’t know any better. All I knew was how to be me. Someone who loves to talk about anything, someone who loves to swear, someone who loves to drink and have a good time. To borrow the immortal words of Andy Samberg from the movie Hot Rod, “My name is Carrie and I like to party!” I figured if I could bring who I naturally was into these interviews, I was going to have a lot of fun, and I just might make it out alive.

  For your reading pleasure, I’m about to share my journey from bullied kid in Buffalo to Hollywood’s most fearless host (it was actually kind of an accident). You’re going to get all the juicy, behind-the-scenes stories from my candid interviews, but there are a few more extremely important lessons I’m hoping you’ll take away from this book. I’ll put them in a listicle because that’s what all the kids are doing these days:

  1. Cursing is as old as time, and like prostitution, is not going away anytime soon. There are entire books written on the history of cursing, and from what I can tell, words like bloody, bugger, and shit were some of the OG cusses. Fuck is relatively new, gaining popularity in the late 1900s and never looking back.