Everybody Curses, I Swear!

by Carrie Keagan

  What had initially served as a shock to the system ultimately woke a lot of people up as to what was coming. But it also demonstrated just how powerful being uncensored was as a platform and how quick celebrities would be to embrace it. It also showed that we, NGTV, were responsible and trustworthy administrators of its broadcast. To me profanity is the language of the masses and something all people have in common. The degree to which we are all profane and the manner in which we present it varies. But it is the people’s church. Only, in this church, everybody worships in their own way, but we all do worship. And at the end of the day, it turns out that a majority of celebrities are just like you and me and enjoy a good “cunt” every now and then. Like Neil Patrick Harris who, when it came time to promote his movie, brought in the C-unit: “Go see A Very Harold and Kumar 3D Christmas, you fucking cunt!”

  And, of course, there was Dane Cook, who threw down a great personal story about how a cunt once got between him and his girlfriend:

  Me: What was it? Dun dun dun dun dun dumb cunt?

  Dane: Dun dun dun dun dun big … C-word … I don’t say that word offstage. I have five sisters.

  Me: Oh really.

  Dane: The character says it!

  Me: You have lines? (Implying lines he won’t cross.)

  Dane: No, I have class. I got into an argument with a girlfriend once and the furthest I went was—I said in the middle of the argument, “You’re being the C-word!” I didn’t call her the C-word. I said she’s being the C-word.

  Me: You totally pussed out.

  Dane: Then she goes, “That’s the same!” Then I go, “Fine, you’re a cunt.”

  So it didn’t scare me away from pushing the envelope and getting more “cunts” on camera. In fact, I was empowered. After that, whenever we booked a Brit or an Australian, we made bets on how many “cunts” we’d get that day. But it wasn’t just the guys, either. Randomly, girls would take the plunge, like Kirsten Dunst when she was promoting Spider-Man 3.

  “I can’t use my favorite one,” she said to me.

  “Yeah, you can,” I said. I knew where this was going.

  She tossed out the “cunt.”

  Not to be outdone and wanting to keep tradition alive, Andrew Garfield, the latest actor to don the blue and red, closed his eyes and thought of England when it came time to promote his blockbuster. “It’s kind of inappropriate, but don’t be a cunt and come and see The Amazing Spider-Man!”

  Don’t get me wrong, as emboldened as I was, hearing a celeb toss out the “cunt” was always a scary thing. You just never knew how the publicists were going to react. It was a verbal high-flying trapeze act, without a net. And at any moment I could go plummeting into the crowd. It was not for the fainthearted. But it got easier and easier over time because everybody was getting used to how crazy my interviews would get. Plus, they were laughing hysterically through the silliness, so the bad words stopped feeling like piercing bullets and began feeling like soft pillows. And who doesn’t like a good pillow fight?

  I think it’s crazy that we let words have so much power over us. As a woman, the word “cunt” doesn’t bother me any more than any other word because, you know what, some people are cunts. Which could be a compliment or an insult. Either way, it’s the truth. We all know a few cunts, and if they aren’t cunts all of the time, there are times when they definitely act cunty. I think we need to stop giving the words themselves so much power and start focusing on intent. Intent is the real motherfucker in this equation. Somebody could call me a “cunt,” and if I know that they aren’t meaning to be hurtful, it’s really no big deal.

  On the other hand, I’ve had someone call me “chilly” once, and I knew his intent was to be hurtful. His intent was to call me a “frigid bitch” just because I didn’t want to put out in the back of his car, in the parking lot at a bar, as an adult. That got me angry because I knew the intent, and I am far, far, far from “chilly.” To be clear, I’m not above a little roll around in the backseat of a car. I just didn’t want to do that with you, “Travis!” Holy shit! I love writing this. I mean, obviously, he knows his name isn’t Travis, but he knows I’m talking about him, and that makes me feel pretty fucking good. So, again, it’s purely about intent.

  So, obviously, this issue doesn’t just apply to the word “cunt.” One story that will undoubtedly challenge your comfort zone as it has mine is about one of my closest friends, Kendrick, who’s African-American, and his best friend/brother, Adam, who’s white. Just like most BFFs they share a shorthand in their conversations and have nicknames for one another that they’ve used for over twenty years. When I first started hanging out with them seven years ago, I got a real shock to the system. We were out at some noisy bar one night, and I heard Adam call out to get Kendrick’s attention by yelling, “Hey, tar baby!” Well, my jaw dropped, my vision narrowed to almost blacking out, and I waited for the rest of bar to suddenly go silent while the ensuing melee broke out. And nothing happened. No one at the table blinked, and Kendrick had already walked over to Adam and was smiling and laughing. Eventually, I learned that it was a term of endearment for them, and that the problem was mine. Now, I’m not saying there isn’t a problem with using that term and I sure as shit have no desire to do so, but it’s a great lesson in how words are just words. As fucked up as it sounded, to them it was a private expression of love, and my interpretation was just me inserting my judgement where it didn’t belong.

  I remember having another funny “misinterpreted” moment when we had Bijou Phillips, Lauren German, and Vera Jordanova in the studio to tape an interview in support of their movie Hostel: Part II. I started the interview with my usual ecstatic, energetic, and over-the-top intro:

  “What’s up, boys and girls, I have three sexy bitches right here! We got Vera, Lauren, and Bijou. All stars of the fucking awesome new movie Hostel: Part II!”

  Bijou and Vera totally dove right into the energy, but Lauren’s face looked like someone had stolen her candy, and I couldn’t tell if it was me or unrelated personal crap so I continued. I worked my way into a key question:

  “So, ladies, what’s more important in a horror movie, the tits or the balls?”

  The girls jumped all over that one, and a slew of balls-over-tits and tits-over-balls comments started flying. The debate ended with Bijou settling the issue:

  “I think that there are balls, but the ruler of the movie is breasts. But not in a naked-tittie way, but in a, like, power-to-the-bosoms way.”

  To which I replied, “’Cause you guys are strong bitches?!”

  Bijou emphatically said, “RIIIIGHT!!!” as I pulled a power-fist move.

  But again, Lauren looked like someone had peed in her coffee. But there was no time to focus on that ’cause Vera started to get my attention by purposefully clearing her throat loudly, to which I replied:

  “Oh, I’m sorry … that would be you? Vera, you’re the strong bitch?” To which she nodded enthusiastically with a big smile, and I continued, “Are you like a super bitch in this movie?” After which I raised my glass, and we toasted to her super bitch-ness.

  At this point, I noticed that Lauren had gone way past the “does anyone else smell that?” look to the death knell of the “did you fuck my boyfriend?” look, straight at me. Clearly, there was something amiss, but Bijou and Vera were lovin’ every minute of it, and Lauren wasn’t havin’ any of it. And I could feel that both of them were getting the same vibe I was. We weren’t live, so I decided to ask Lauren if she was okay. She hesitated for a second and then she came out with it: “I don’t like being called a bitch. I don’t like that word. It bothers me.” Well, I did not see that coming, and apparently neither did Bijou or Vera.

  So I explained that I was using it in a celebratory way and meant no ill will, but I don’t think she cared much for how I intended it. She saw the word in one way and that was that. Which was a shame because my intention is all that should have really mattered. But before the buzz was slaughtered, Bijou jump
ed in and made a funny joke. I took her cue and moved away from the B-word and continued having fun with the interview in a way everyone was comfortable with. I respected Lauren’s feelings, but it was a lot of wasted energy on her part. I was celebrating her. I was celebrating the girl power of the movie. It should have been a 100 percent positive experience.

  No question the word “bitch” is a divisive word with women. In my mind, it’s a second cousin to “cunt.” But where cunt strolls into a room in nothing but a pair of crotchless panties, six-inch stilettos, and a cattle prod, demanding your attention, bitch arrives in faded blue jeans, a cute baby-T, and knee-high boots and isn’t so obvious about what she wants. But the head tilt coupled with the “where were you last night?” stare definitely gives you the feeling something’s on her mind. Anyway, at the end of the day, I just think people need to lighten the fuck up. If you didn’t take yourself so seriously, those words wouldn’t give you an emotional conniption. You know why it doesn’t bother me if someone calls me a “bitch” or a “cunt”? Because sticks and stones, that why! It’s that simple. Life’s too short.

  Now back to more cunt.

  One of my favorite cunting trips to this day was when I went in to interview Mila Kunis for the movie The Book of Eli. Now that was a good time. Mila’s really funny, always gives a great interview, and is firmly in the top ten of all-around cool chicks. But that day she was about to turn into the bomb diggity smack wack attack of cool chicks! Now, unbeknownst to me, the infamous secret word game I’ve told you about was in full effect, but thanks to a friend of mine who was running the room, the word chosen for my interview was the ever-popular, underappreciated yet versatile “cunt.” Mila, appreciating that we were uncensored, decided to truly embrace the moment and proceeded to have a field day, cunting it up.

  I had no idea what was going on but was obviously delighted when Mila went on a Shakespearean cunt-a-logue, painting the room with her masterful prose filled with wall-to-wall “cunts.” The room was uproarious with laughter during the interview, and I was catching C-bombs like a kid under an exploding piñata at a quinceañera. I think there might have been only one sentence that didn’t have a “cunt” in it. So there we were, two little cunts, cunting it up for cunts’ sake. Mila was pitching the verbal equivalent of a no-hitter in baseball and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. It was moments like these that made me realize that what we were doing was as much fun as it was cathartic for the talent.

  It was so insanely awesome that even her publicist was rolling on the floor, laughing. Which, when it happens, and it’s happened a lot, is a tremendous source of personal pride for me. Because getting a personal publicist to laugh while a major client takes an obscenity submachine gun and lights up a press interview is about as common as people admitting that they use the Today Sponge as their go-to for birth control. I mean, they’re out there, but let’s face it, even they have no desire to explain why they’re using 1985’s hottest contraceptive. Anyway, when it was over, Mila gave me a huge hug and a big thank-you, but her rep was immediately all over my ass like cake and whipped cream after a night of sploshing.

  “I’m not gonna give you that tape,” she said.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “You want to do it again?”

  “No, I want my tape.”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that.”

  “You know me. Just tell me what you don’t want in there.”

  “Okay, fine. Just use the least cunty two minutes.”

  Boom! Suddenly, cunt was kinda cool. And it started being infused in our daily lives. On TV, Tina Fey did an entire episode of 30 Rock about the C-word. Jane Fonda threw down “cunt” on a live Today show segment discussing The Vagina Monologues (though a mortified Meredith Vieira issued an apology immediately after the commercial break). In her interview with me for her latest movie, What’s Your Number?, Anna Faris renamed it “What’s Your Cunty Number?” before giggling and apologizing to her mother: “Sorry … Hi, Mommy!” Goopy Gwyneth Paltrow called her grandmother “a real cunt” on Chelsea Lately. In music, Iggy Azalea started calling her fans her “kuntz.” Nicki Minaj’s personal motto became “I’m a bad bitch, I’m a cunt,” taken from her song “Roman’s Revenge.” Rihanna wore a necklace that spelled out “cunt” to a chapel in Brazil. A sexually charged micro-genre of queer rap called Kunt emerged. And One Direction’s Niall Horan publicly called a group of his diehard fans a “shower of cunts” at the airport in Dublin. Not to be confused with a “shower of cunt” (singular), which is a whole other matter altogether.

  Of course, there’s always the cunt you thought you had but somehow slipped away. I rememeber mine like it was a short film, George Clooney starring in The Cunt that Wasn’t There. So there I was at the end of my interview with him, and it was time to throw down in support of his film, and he was thinking of what to say … that’s where we pick up the action:

  George: (Scratching his head. Looking like he wants to make it count.) Okay. (Then quickly with precision:) If you go see the fucking movie … (Pauses.) Then … (Pauses again.) Uh, they will get? I can do it! (He looks at me with a little mischief in his eye.) … I was gonna say something worse …

  (Holy shit! Am I about to get the Clooney C-bomb? I thought to myself: Be cool.)

  George: Even worse than you could possibly imagine!

  Me: Not possible! I’ve heard it all. (Trying to reassure him.)

  George: And then I backed off. (Realizing that I probably won’t be shocked.) You probably have! Actually …

  Me: (Shit!) I may have said a lot of … things … actually! (Almost.)

  George: Innocent little flower over here. (To the room, laughing.)

  We’ll never know exactly what he was going to say, but my money is on the immortal “cunt.” You be the judge, but experience tells me that nobody hems and haws with the kind of anticipation gamblers have at a craps table unless they’re getting ready to tangle with the devil’s pussy! One day! Even the thought that he could have gone there makes him even cooler!

  Anyway, in movies, mainstream chick flicks like Bridesmaids and Gone Girl jumped on the cunt wagon. Twilight’s Kristen Stewart, not exactly known for her cheery demeanor, called herself a “miserable cunt” in Marie Claire UK. Denis Leary took cunt to a whole other level when he continued his father’s legacy by introducing our audience to an expression he invented during my interview with him for The Amazing Spider-Man: “And I think it was invented by my dad, I’m pretty sure, when I was a kid. That’s how I remember this motherfucking-cock-sucking-cunt-son-of-a-bitch. Amazing motherfucking Spider-Man!”

  Oh and let’s not leave out the kids. In Kick-Ass, eleven-year-old Chloë Moretz called a group of adults “you cunts.” In fact, in the talk show pilot we shot for EPIX, I invited her costars Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Christopher Mintz-Plasse, and Clark Duke to a no-holds-barred and very bawdy discussion about the importance of the “cunt” in modern cinema. They all concluded that they didn’t understand why it was still such a big deal in America but agreed that as long as it’s said with a British accent, then everyone should be fine with it.

  So many “cunts,” in so little time!

  Until one day, it happened organically. “Cunt” was the new “fuck.”

  I know this for sure because almost ten years later, exactly, I had a junket with Warner Bros., the same studio responsible for the Matthew Goode cunt-tastrophy. This time I was interviewing Liam Neeson for Unknown. He was always nice when I talked to him about The A-Team or Taken, though some days could be more serious and quiet than others. I was the last interview of the day, and it was also only a few months after his wife, Natasha Richardson, had died tragically in a skiing accident. So I was a little worried about how to vibe it.

  Despite my hesitation, Liam had a gleam in his eye when I walked in, and I could tell he wanted to play a bit. We talked about kicking ass, making out in the backseat, and sex in the shower. When we reached the end of the interview and it was time to pr
omote the film No Good TV–style, the last thing in the world anyone expected, happened:

  Liam: I don’t think you want to hear it. I’m from the north of Ireland.

  Me: Oh, are you going to throw the cunt out? Is that what you’re gonna do? (The whole room is laughing.) I have heard now.

  Liam: You fucking cunt! (Really leaning into it.)

  Me: (Laughing with the whole room and clapping.)

  Liam: You know that word?

  Me: A few times. Yeah.

  Liam: That’s the bad one in America.

  Me: It is.

  Liam: Yup.

  Me: But you guys have now infiltrated America, so I heard it a few times. Thank you.

  Liam: Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt.

  When it was over, the Warner Bros. reps ran out of the room high-fiving and walkie-talkie-ing each other as if a NASA rocket had successfully landed on Uranus. It was so jubilant, we should have shot fireworks out of a cannon that spelled CUNT and had a marching band play “Cherry Pie” by Warrant.

  “Liam said cunt! Liam said cunt!” they cried in amazement. “Liam said cunt ten times!” Then I heard it on the studio walkie-talkies like some sort of critical announcement: “Liam said cunt!”

  “Amazing, Carrie!”

  “Groundbreaking stuff!”

  “Nobody does it like you do!”