It's So Hard To Type With A Gun In My Mouth (15 page)

APRIL 27, 2006 -
THE NIACIN AFFAIR

It was time for my annual check up and so I called Kaiser to get my appointment. This was my first year there and so I needed to find a responsible doctor, which at Kaiser is an oxymoron.  My new doctor tells me my cholesterol is high, 229.  He wants to put me on meds but I am not a "meds" kind of guy, I want to try to bring it down with diet and exercise. "Is there anything else I could try?" And the doctor says, "Niacin".  So the next time I'm at Costco I buy a tub of Niacin for 16.99.

About this time my house is in Escrow. I have to have the house tented for termites, which means I have to rent a storage unit, put it in my driveway and put all my belongings in it while they murder the helpless termites that consider my house an all you can eat buffet.

I take my animals and stay in a motel for the night, the termite people will be back the next morning to remove the tent and give me the all clear. Suddenly my house has become Chernobyl. When I finally do get inside, it smells funny. I'm a little nervous about breathing air that kills so I open all the doors and windows. Like that will help. I'm such a dufus.

Since I have no furniture, I'm laying on the floor of the den watching a portable TV when all of a sudden it gets very hot in the house. Hot, like a sudden heat wave and I'm sweating like a pig. I'm fanning myself and mopping my forehead with a towel. It gets so hot I turn on the a/c; it's like February.  That's not working, so I go into the kitchen and stick my head under the faucet. I'm still burning up.  And then I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. OH MY GOD... I'm beet red. I look at my arms; they are beet red, my legs... red.. I run to the bathroom and look in the mirror... Sitting Bull is looking back at me.

Now this is how my mind works. "I'M HAVING AN ALLERGIC REACTION TO THE TERMITE CHEMICALS."  Made perfect sense to me, they tented the house I was laying on the floor... at this point my tongue starts to swell. "JESUS CHRIST I'M GOING INTO ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK."  Not just shock, mind you, anaphylactic shock. If we're going to panic why not go for the gusto!  I dial 911.  There is a unit at my house in six minutes, they take one look at me and throw me in an ambulance. It's just like on TV. They're calling the hospital with my numbers, and the doctor at the hospital is telling them what to do. And naturally I'm in the bed thinking,  "I HAVE NO WILL."  The sirens are blaring and I can feel the car swerve from side to side as they cut through traffic. The sound of the siren gets hollow as we come closer to the hospital entrance. The doors swing open and I'm catapulted onto the loading dock. A new team of doctors is working on me. An intern is asking me all kinds of questions... "What are you allergic to? Have you taken any drugs? Are you a diabetic?" And he turns to the heavy set black nurse next to him and screams," I want an IV solution of (whatever) and a 100cc's of (whatever) and call the pharmacy and...” The nurse puts up her index finger and turns to me. "Honey, you been taking Niacin?"  I nod yes. She turns to the intern, "This is a niacin reaction, Dr. Salk." And she walks back to the automatic doors, hits the buttons and turns as they swing open, "And don't you EVER tell me my ass is too fat for my own good!"

Turns out one of the side affects of taking Niacin... flushed feeling, bright red skin, swollen tongue. This cost me $385.00 for the ambulance and $950.00 in emergency room fees. I wish you could have all been there when I told the Kaiser doctor what had happened. "Ah, I didn't tell you about the possible reaction?"  Duh! "No you didn't, you sorry ass mother fucker....doctor...sir!"  

MAY 16, 2006 -
UNEMPLOYMENT

I'm entering a period on non-work. It happens in my business, you work nonstop for months and then go six years without work. During this time I do other projects, work on spec houses, write for the theater, try to hang myself from lighting fixtures, whatever it takes to fill my days. But last night I was remembering a period of non-work that brought a smile to my face and I wanted to share it with you.

I had just come off writing a couple of sit-coms and there didn't appear to be much on the horizon, so like all good writers, actors, comedians in Hollywood, I applied for unemployment. It's the normal thing out here, you stop working you go on unemployment until your next job. There is no stigma; as a matter of fact it's where you see the stars... standing in line at unemployment.  I had not collected unemployment in years and was unaware that things had changed; I got a notice that I had to appear for employment training. Employment training? They were going to train me to be a comedian?  I get the time and date and show up for my class.  I must tell you my attitude was not good. This was a monumental waste of time and taxpayers dollars.  I wasn't the typical unemployed person.  You just can't train me to find work, it just sort of happens... like a miracle at Lourdes.

I show up the morning of the class and park my Lexus in the lot. As I'm walking to the front door I notice mine was not the only Lexus there, the parking lot was filled with BMW's, Mercedes, Lexus and Infiniti, every luxury you can think of. I even saw a Maserati. It looked like Jose Eber's parking lot.

We are shuffled to a conference room and we sit around this long table. I look at the other people and I'm thinking, "I'm such a loser. I'm the only one here from show business and I'm going to be out of place here." Just then the "team leader" comes in. He's a tall, good looking black man with a grayish beard and wearing a grey pinstriped suit. "Good morning class, I'm Harold Roberts and today I will be conducting the seminar on how to find work. Let's get started by introducing ourselves and sharing what our last job was."  And then it begins. "Hello, I'm so and so, I was vice president of Sony Pictures. I'm so and so, I was news anchor for channel four. I was executive producer of ... I am casting director of. I am director of... and finally the last woman speaks...I created and was executive producer of Buffy the Vampire Slayer." And I almost wet myself.  I am sitting in a room filled with millionaires who are now all collecting unemployment.

Harold asks if we knew why we had been chosen for this seminar. I raise my hand. "Anyone who earns 6 figures or more gets a bonus class?"  "Close. The State has determined that this group has a 99% chance of not being rehired."  A pall falls over the room but I'm in ecstasy! I'm sitting across from the VP of Sony and we are laughing so hard tears are running down our cheeks. You see, the total gross income of the room could buy the building and if Harold doesn't get us out of here by cocktails... we will.

Harold explains the day's course and introduces our first speaker. The door flies open and this woman whirls in like a tornado. I've never seen such energy.  You have to picture this woman to understand what made her so funny. She was dressed in a power suit, her hair was piled up on top of her head like the Seattle Space Needle, her voice was high pitched like nails on a blackboard and she talked like she was on speed in a non-stop barrage of sentences that made you want to choke her. " O.K. everyone so nice to see those smiling faces and let's not be down because you're out of work and everyone you know has a job you too will work again someday. Maybe. You can find your niche in society you too will be vital productive human beings again and not be a drain on society. Look at me! Why, just last year I was not working and now I have this job." And this manic blabber went on for 45 minutes. When she was done she picked up her brief case and whirled out of the room leaving a swirl of dust and a trail of dead bodies. "What did you think." Harold inquires like a proud Papa... "Couldn't we just have a root canal?" I whisper loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. The laugh is ten minutes.  Harold is not amused and I am asked to sit up front. I'm just happy I don't have to sit in the corner with a dunce cap.

OK, so it's noon and we have an hour break. The cell phones come out. I'm listening to the conversations around me. "Maria, make sure the groomer picks up the dogs." "I'm at this stupid Unemployment thing. Did you hear from the studio? Tell that asshole I can not do that film for 16 million, I need at least 28 or we're out." "Phyllis, is my office finished yet? When do you think the carpenters will get the mahogany paneling? "  The people who were not on their cell phones were networking, "I understand you were with Columbia Pictures. Listen I've got a project in turn around that I think might be good for your people." And that is how the entire hour was spent at unemployment... making deals, talking to maids and confirming work orders.

The rest of the afternoon was spent learning how to fill out forms, learning how to apply for a job, learning to never apply for unemployment again (and I have not). At six p.m. we are released and given our certificate of completion along with a "how to find work" kit.  Harold has taken a liking to me and wants to hear from me in two weeks to see how I'm doing in my job search. I call him in ten days to tell him I've just been hired to write a sit-com and there is a deep sigh on his end of the phone. "I'm so happy for you, Steve. I'm glad to know my class is helping people."  He then pitches me a story idea and asks if I'd be interested in writing a film with him.

There's a reason why Anne Heche was babbling in foreign tongues by the side of the road... she had just come from The California Unemployment Seminar on Job Searches.

MAY 30 -
MEMORIAL DAY

I've created a family of friends. This is the best way to form a family; you get to pick and choose like you were at the farmer's market buying spaghetti squash. Yesterday, on Memorial Day, I got be with some of my favorite people.

Many, many, many years ago... like when gas was .38 cents a gallon, I was part of an actor's workshop, which later became a theater group called THE GROUNDLINGS.  Years after I had left the group it produced people like Pee Wee Herman, Jon Lovitz, Edie McClurg, Elivra, Phil Hartman and on and on and on. 

One of the people I love from the early Groundling years is Isabel West Davis. Isabel is daughter of legendary actor/producer Bernie West.  She now lives in NYC but comes to LA on a regular basis to visit her father. (This was written prior to her father’s passing) She called and invited me to Bernie's 88th birthday and said, "There will be a lot of old friends there."  And she was right. When I walked in the very first person I saw was Lynn Stewart. Lynn played Miss Yvonne on The Pee Wee Herman Show and has been seen in countless commercials and movies and TV shows. However, to me, she's just Lynn, one of the most loving people I know. Lynn is just a little off center and when you are around her all you want to do is laugh. I really love her. She, Cindy Williams and I hung out a bit in the early years, not so much any more and so when I see her it's like an unexpected birthday present.

Then in comes Groundling Phyllis Katz. Phyllis is one of the most intelligent people I know. Besides being beautiful, she's a brilliant comedy actor, she's also an accomplished writer whose one-woman show was so funny I wet myself watching it.  Phyllis is so smart she scares me a little. When I saw her sitting in the front row of one of my shows I almost froze with fear. This has nothing to do with Phyllis. It had to do with my fear of being judged. At the show Phyllis was laughing and supportive and loving AND she drove  all the way to Pasadena to see me. Now that's love.

And then in walks Tracy Newman. To show you how long I’ve know her, Tracy was performing on stage at The Comedy Store the very first night I set foot in the place. I was investigating it to see if I thought I could be a comedian.  Tracy is just good people. She's smart and funny and to me like a blanket that makes you want to snuggle up to in bed.  She was in the Groundlings with me, as a matter of fact, I think it was because of her I got into the workshop. One day her sister joined the class. We only knew her as Tracy’s sister; she was kind of shy and rail thin. However, when she got on stage it was like an explosion of talent. There was magic there and you knew she was destined for greatness. Tracy's sister, Larraine, who later went on to SNL fame and who lives a stone's throw from me today, remains a friend who is unaffected by her fame and grounded by her family.

But the treat of the night for me came when Reni Santori walked in. I had never met him before. He came with Tracy. We were all talking, catching up when I was introduced to him. Now this is an actor I have watched in films and on TV for years, someone I respect and consider a "real" actor. I'm introduced to him and he says, "Yes, I know who you are. You were wonderful on Make Me Laugh."  MAKE ME LAUGH? That was 30 years ago? And there must have been 200 comedians on it. How in God's name did he remember me? I was so grateful and honored. And then, for just a few seconds, I didn't feel like a failure, I didn't feel like, well, like me.

What I love about these people is that when we get together all we do is laugh. Not only do we laugh but we also enjoy making each other laugh. Phyllis said to me..."Steve, tell the story about when you went home to visit your mother."  And I did, and they laughed and I thought I forgot about that story. I must tell this in my  book.. and this is how it goes.

I was going home to Boston and my mother was getting in her obsessive mode. She called me at least twice a day prior to the trip because " I want to make sure I have everything in the house that you like to eat. What do you like for breakfast?" " I like raison bran." "Kellogg or Post?" "Post" "Do you like skim milk or regular? "Skim" "Do you like wheat toast or rye?" And theses phone calls went on for a week. "Do you like chicken or fish? Cause I want to make everything you like to eat when you come home. You're not home that often and I want to make it special."

The day I arrived, it had been a long trip. I get to my mother's house and I'm not there five minutes when she asks, "Are you hungry? I've got everything you like." I was hungry so I asked if she had any chicken cooked. "It'll be out in three minutes." And it was. I sat at the table as I waited for my first home cooked meal. I put the first bite in my mouth and spit it out. "Where did you get this?" "What does it matter."  "You didn't cook this. Where did you get it?"  "It doesn't matter. Eat it you'll feel better." " NO! I want to know where this comes from." "WHAT DOES IT MATTER???" "BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW WHERE IT CAME FROM".... "I went to the nursing home, they gave me dinners." 

You see, my mother is a fundraiser for the local nursing home and when she knew I was coming home her idea of nurturing was to get the institutional chefs at the nursing home to cook dinners for me. In her fridge were seven trays stacked one on top of the other... just like the dietitian had just put them there for the octogenarians. 

When I finished telling the story my friends laughed long and hard and for an instant it was like being back in The Groundlings and I was 27 again.  

I stayed at the party for about 3 hours and then the group began to break up. We all kissed good-bye. I said I was going to have everyone over for a Tony party. It will never happen. As we left we ran into Carole Ita White coming in. Carole played "Rosie Greenbaum" on Laverne and Shirley.  She was a Comedy Store regular and friends with all the Groundlings. Carole has always been 3 hours late to everything in her life. And this is why I love her. She's consistent. 

In the car going home I got very depressed. I miss these people very much. I miss being in their lives and having them in mine on a daily basis. When we were younger we all had a common bond, we were all going to be stars. Only a handful made their goal, the rest are working actors, some are not in the business anymore, some just faded away. And it saddens me to think how unfair show business is... until a friend, not in the business, said "That's what life is all about, people come in and out of your life. It's not just show business it's all businesses! It's life. " And I realized he was right, it's not just me, it's all of us.

Ya mean I'm not special? Fuck.

JUNE 2, 2006 -
IBS

I had an I.B.S. attack last night. (Irritable bowel syndrome) I was in constant pain from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. and today I'm drained and vulnerable.   It's like I gave birth but I have nothing to show for it. Several people have asked why I don’t write about my childhood. Didn’t I have any happy memories I wanted to share. This got me thinking, what are my childhood memories? This is all I could come up.

I must have been about 8 years old. I had been out playing with friends in the foundation of a house that had just been ripped down. I slipped and fell and opened my elbow. The blood was everywhere. I ran to find my mother; she was visiting with friends. My arm was covered with blood as I came screaming into Irene's house. Immediately Irene, Edie and Emmy jumped up and brought me into the bathroom. They were washing my elbow when I heard my father screaming in the background. "Your son comes home covered in blood and you don't get up off your chair!!!!" To which my mother replied, "Why do I have to get up, my friends are taking care of it?" 

I remember this exchange as if it were yesterday. I remember thinking, why is he so upset. She's right. Irene, Emmy and Edie are taking care of it. But as an adult the reality has come home to roost like barnyard chickens after a hurricane. I understand the lack of maternal nurturing that it takes to think like that. I'm beginning to understand the effects it's had on me.  And that, my friends, was a HAPPY childhood memory.

It was my 6th, 7th, 8th birthday...does it matter. My mother had invited all the kids from the neighborhood for my birthday party. I remember feeling so happy, so special, so loved. As the kids came in, one by one, my mother sat them around the table. This is five minutes after they arrived. "OK it's time for cake."  They sang Happy Birthday and my mother said, "The party's over."  The entire party was ten minutes.  One of the mothers said, "What a good idea. Get them in and get them out."  But I remember feeling so sad, so un-special, and so unloved.

Then there was the time right before the divorce and after my father moved out of the house that he came back unannounced. He wanted in, she wanted him out. I remember my mother was pushing furniture up against the door. He held his hand on the buzzer  as she stood on a chair unscrewing the doorbell. Two can play this game, my father was outside taking the hinges off the door. He pushed the door in. Furniture went flying and he grabbed my mother dragging her into the bedroom where he slammed the door shut and locked it. I was left outside pounding on the bedroom door. Twenty minutes later he came out; she was undressed.  I never could understand why I hated Father Knows Best. There was no reality there for me.

Then another funny story was when I had gone to sleep away camp. It was the last day and we were being driven to the drop off point in the camp bus. I stood at the depot waiting and watching as mother after mother came to pick up their kids. I saw their excitement as they kissed the children they hadn't seen all summer.   My mother never showed up. I waited an hour. Finally, I walked home dragging my suitcase behind me. The funny thing here is I wasn't upset, this was just how my life was.  I walked the mile from the drop off point to our apartment. I opened the door and saw two people making love on the sofa. I recognized the gold wedgies, they were hers... and closed the door. I went down into the laundry room and waited for about 45 minutes. My mother came out and found me there... she never asked how I got home, she never asked what I was doing in the laundry room, she never asked.

I swore to myself that I would never share that story with a single living sole. It made my mother look bad. But, quite frankly, I don't care how it makes her look anymore. After my I.B.S. attack last night I'm sore, I ache and I'm fed up.  The damage that has been done to me, the ones that breed these feelings of inadequacy, failure and not being good enough to love are directly related to these stories and what happened to me as a child. I wish I could make them funny, but to me there's nothing funny about them. At best, they're sad.  I'm sharing them to finally release them. Maybe the demons will go away.

And that is why I don't write about my childhood. It's a ton of laughs. No?

JUNE 4, 2006 -
KATHY GRIFFIN

I was watching "Kathy Griffin's Life on the D list" and I could not believe what I was watching. Here's why.

Many, many, many years ago after I had left the Groundlings, I went back there for a refresher course. It felt good to be at the Groundlings again and be involved in the creative energy of that place. And it was great to be introduced to the "new" Groundlings. There is a very strict structure to the Groundling Theater. You have to take classes and then, if they consider you good enough, you're moved to an advanced class and then, if you're popular enough, voted into the Sunday Show and finally, if you're political enough, voted into the main, Saturday show... it's very cutthroat and an ego crusher to beat the band but if you make it through the process the rewards can be enormous.

The Saturday show is the top rung on the ladder, when you're in that show you are showcased for the entire industry. And because of that the best of the best are in that show. During my period of reentry into the Groundlings I would go to watch the Saturday cast. There was a young girl who was incredibly funny, she stuck out like a sore thumb she was so funny, yet, she was as homely as sin. This girl was not a looker in any way shape or form. But it didn't matter what she looked like, you could not take your eyes off her and funny won out.

At some point I was introduced to her and I was amazed at her personality. She was as shy as a mouse. Shy! Wallflower... not a "look at me" bone in her body. I was not surprised at this since many actors are like that; Bobcat Goldwaith is so painfully shy he's almost invisible. Hard to believe that someone who is so open on stage can be so introverted, but it's true.  So any way, Kathy was shy and nice and very talented.

My claim to fame in the Groundlings was my connection to Beverly Hills Plastic Surgeon, Michael Churukian. I'll be the first to admit I've had some work done, nose, chin, lipo... and each time I would have something done, a Groundling would approach me for the phone number of my surgeon. At one point, at least 10 or 15 Groundlings were having plastic surgery with Dr. Churukian. I was the connection and everyone came to me to put in a good word so they could get an appointment. Kathy approached me one day and asked if she could get the "doctor's" number. I gave it to her and she had her nose done. It's remarkable what a nose job can do. It can change the entire appearance of a face. And that's what it did for Kathy; she was cuter by a long shot.

As you know I detest doing stand up. The traveling, the club owners, the egos of other comedians just take all the fun out of the work. In the late 80's,early 90's I could see the writing on the wall. The Comedy Club circuit was shutting down. TV had taken its bite into the business, no one came out to see comedy, they watched it on The Comedy Channel. And at the same time the quality of the acts began to fail. By then, anyone with a suit was a comedian. The clubs spawned a generic kind of comedy that was centered on the crotch and never went any higher. Instead of bringing the audience up to the comedian's level, the comedian was sinking to the audience's level. Comedy suffered.  And while acts like Ed Murphy and Richard Pryor could make sex topics funny and insightful, most comedians just made them vulgar.  It was during that time I decided to move away from stand up and closer to writing, a move I never regretted.

Anyway, during this period this shy, not so pretty, actress, with Annie curls, Kathy Griffin, came up to me all excited. "Steve, I'm going to do stand up."  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Why? Every actor in town was "doing stand up". Why? It was a way to get noticed. It had nothing to do with the art of stand up; it had to do with them becoming famous. "Oh, God, Kathy, why? Why would you want to be a stand up? It's hell out there and there is no work anymore." "I just want to." I shrugged my shoulder, kissed her and walked away.  That was the last time I saw her in person.

Then years later I'm flipping through the channels and there she was on Bravo. OH....MY...GOD... what had she done to herself, she looked beautiful. And that personality; where did that come from? And that material, it was blisteringly wonderful. I watched and listened and I laughed. My words came echoing back to me, "Oh God, Kathy, why?"  Only this time I came up with my own answer. "Because, I'm going to be famous and a star, Steve. I’m going to do something that no one else is doing and I’m going to do it better than anyone could imagine. THAT'S why."

And while I do not like the life of a comic, I do respect her ability to live it and carve a niche for herself in the business. I'm happy for her... just one side note.  She started going to another plastic surgeon, one whom is famous for being famous, and she is starting to look a little done.  She looks nothing like the girl I knew from the Groundlings. That girl is dead and gone. In her place is that powerhouse of a comedian who has her own show on Bravo.  Good on ya, Kath, as they say in Oz.  Good on ya! I was happy to be 100% wrong.

JUNE 7, 2006 -
THE DUCK STORY

Ok, enough of this serious celebrity crap it's time for a story that happened to me when I was married.... 1600 years ago.