“I always keep a bottle handy in case I see a snake, which I also keep handy.” W.C. Fields
So I called Gunner the other night to ask him if he’d allow me to interview him. His answer was yes, to which my response was “ it can’t be no, can it Gunn?” …
“no, it can be, it just isn’t” he said… I paused and took a deep breath, thinking to myself that he really needs to keep track of who can blackmail him for all he has…
I started a sentence … I didn’t need to finish before he said “when and where?”
So there I was, 10pm at SUEDE on Figueroa St. sitting in a sea of fake tits, and desperation. (or was it just me?)
He was already 30 minutes late and I had already capitalized on the fact that he was picking up the bill. I ordered two doubles of the best single malt they had. Nothing bothers me more than “interview tardiness”, but when I’m not paying the bill, there’s nothing I like more. So I drank like Lindsay Lohan on a Tuesday afternoon… my second trip to the lue “suggested” that I was slightly “buzzed”….
You see when I pee in public I hover… The definition of hover is “to fluctuate around a given point.” Oh I fluctuated alright… Pissed all over the ass of my jeans. This proved quite a pickle, but I’m the master of both solving problems inadequately and not really giving a sh*t… it was a single bathroom so I took off my pants, washed them sloppily in the sink and walked back out to the table, swamp assed and all…
I still smelt a “bit” like piss, my ass was wet, but when my waitress arrived with another glass of “I don’t give a f*ck”, that’s exactly what happened. Now, when I say a “bit”, use it in this sentence… Jenna Jameson has had a “bit” of sex.
I felt him come in… when you’re as famous as Gunner, there’s an atmosphere surrounding them where you know everything for them, is available… and, well, how does a 30 year old rich/famous man keep from occupying his time walking through the pumpkin patch, so to speak, of fun bags constantly on display for his picking? Just ask Ryan Phillippe how hard it is not to “pick”.
When Gunner sat he asked to switch tables… because as he put it “it smelled like a homeless person”. Little did he know it was his company… JEALOUS? I had to tell him what happened, or rather, my whiskey infused sensibility considered it a must to tell him. He gave me a half smile, and began looking around the room. He spotted a few people in the back that he knew, so he excused himself and headed over. I knew it would be unlikely for him to come back so I did what any professional “anti- sobrietor” would do… I wrote a note on a napkin and gave it to my waitress in order for her to deliver it. She did. I watched him read it, he laughed and handed the waitress some money. Atleast I think he laughed, and I think it was money he gave her… could have been ghonnerehea considering how drunk I was.
I turned back to give my full attention to my liquid man, when I found someone at the table with me… he was wearing a lot of blue and had chocolate brown eyes. I was so drunk my vision was nearly quadrupled, but I went ahead and began moving my lips regardless.
I have no idea what happened in the next hour other than, the waitress constantly coming up to me, and saying “they’ll be here soon, are you okay?”
From the information the waitress provided, this is what had happened:
I had blacked out while talking to a blue PEEP, yes a PEEP, it was the day after Easter and I had a few in my purse… I wanted the poor guy to loosen up ( couldn’t get a peep outa him) so I gave him some whiskey… well he didn’t take to well to the liquid and began to just fall the f*ck apart. I couldn’t possibly let him waste my whiskey, even if he had thrown up in it… so I drank it…
It was the first time I had ever actually consumed an interviewee. But then again, there are a lot of firsts in my life.
You might be wondering why during this entry I haven’t had a drink. I’m in the f*cking hospital, apparently when the EMT’s find you with blue lips, piss stained pants, passed out at a table in an upscale bar… that’s reason enough to rush you to the ER. What they don’t know is that was just another Saturday night in the life of Betty Booze.
Signed, Sealed, Delivered,
Betty Booze (from RM 2182 at Ceders Sinai Medical Center)
P.S. The note read:
Pay my tab, or Ill come sit on your lap.