widowcentauri

The John Waters Christmas Hustle

In Adventure, bitchy, Comedy, drinking, performance on December 3, 2012 at 3:00 am

I got all worked up to meet John Waters. I’m used to Hollywood meet and greet events. If the general admission tx is $30 bucks and the meet and greet after party tix is $100 I naturally expect that there is a cocktail party after the fact. This seems like a basic thing to expect.

I was really pissed off and made a total Hollywood ass of myself the other night when I went to see John Waters.

First his show. Kind of brilliant. It was funny and he didn’t breathe. I found that the most interesting part. He just sputtered for 90 minutes. Nonstop. I don’t think he even took a sip of his water.

At the end he asked if people had questions. I asked him who did his casting and if he has seen Surrender Dorothy. He has not seen SD, but he should get a copy of it in the post.

Though his show was good. I would hesitate if offered the opportunity to go to another show. If someone else was buying, if it was in Hollywood, if I knew the after party was going to include more than WAITING IN LINE FOR AN AUTOGRAPH. Um, excuse me for being so bitchy but celebs give out autographs at shows for free, in the price of the ticket all the time.

I was informed that this stand in line and get a photo with John Waters, ask him to sign your book or whatever, this was the meet and greet. The QnA and stand in line. This is what I paid an extra $70 dollars for?

I was seriously unimpressed.

I felt like this was the John Waters Christmas Hustle. I’m alright with that but he couldn’t even have a real meet and greet? Like with a free glass of champagne and a mingle session?

Being from Hollywood, I understand that no one wants to chat with other Hollywood people. But being a bottom tier celebrity, I want to meet my fans. I want to have them tell me how great they think I am, I want to be asked to sign peoples ass’ and to read their screenplay. Well I don’t want the screenplay, I have a coffee table size stack of them back in LA. But yeah, it is polite to meet and greet. Especially if that is what people paid for.

Some of the people in the line with me informed me that this is a New England style meet and greet.

I waited and then took a bad photo with JW, behind a conference table. He could have at least had a big softy chair and a Santa hat. But no.

I was pretty disappointed in the event. BUT I was very pleased with my ability to trip and fall right in front of this cluster fuck of an autograph booth. I was coming back from the toilet and BAMB! I ate shit, fell smack, splat, cartoon style in front of him. Everyone noticed and people came to my rescue. It was an epic fall. I love a good fall.

So other than falling what other asshole things did I do there?

Well I got pretty wasted, I had forgotten to eat and there was a lot of whisky that just kept coming my way, and it wasn’t gonna drink itself. So I was shitty drunk. I didn’t heckle. But the girl next to me did more talking than I would like her to have done. So I shushed her a lot. I laughed too loud, and I clapped too much at jokes that only industry would get. Like the shit just want meant to be funny to anyone else. But I was over there in the third row snorting. Yeah.

And when I finally did get to the front of the line. After being a little too loud during the show and falling flat on my face moments earlier — that’s when my real moment to shine came through. I looked at him and tossed my headshot (in a manila envelope) at him and said “This is for you. This is all the meet and greet? Is this it? I’m way too fucking Hollywood for this. Come to the gay bar with me. Did I meet you there before the show? There was a JW look alike there getting all jacked up on red bull. Sure it wasn’t you. You should come, its two blocks over ant there are twinks on poles. You will like it. Be sure to read my porn.”

Then I smiled for the camera and split.

I was a tad livid. That was a lot of money for the sort of thing I’m used to enduring strictly for he hate of it.

Oh John Waters, if you read this, please cast me.

I think you are a wicked hustler. When I grow up I want to sell my autograph for $100 a pop.

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