Now I see how it happens…

As I write this, a new story comes out every day about Justin Bieber, Lindsay Lohan and Amanda Bynes, and how they’re acting like demented, ultra-spoiled super-brats.   And this is’nt new… celebrities acting like mega-divas is as old as the entertainment industry.   And yet, every time I hear one of these stories, I still wonder; “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE???”   How does this happen?   How does a person just all of a sudden start acting like this… like they can do anything they want, say anything they want, and get anything they want - and what’s even more disturbing; they behave as if they’re entitled to it!!! (the out-of-control sense of entitlement is what really makes me want to choke them)

But, from my brief time as a celebrity, I started to see how it could happen.   How, if you already have an ego or a sense of entitilement, show-business can grossly over-inflate it… if you already have demanding, bossy tendencies, show-business can nurture and perpetuate those tendencies… if you already have any brattiness in you, show-business can turn you into a major dickhead.   And I could see it because; I got to experience some of those “perks” you get when you’re famous.

The first time it happened was on the set of the very first commercial.  

We were in-between takes, I was sitting on that couch waiting for the crew to set-up the lighting for the next shot, and my nose starts to close up (I have bad allergies).   I looked for my afrin, and was dismayed to discover I forgot to bring it.   I was going to try and suffer through it, but, it got really bad, and I knew it was going to affect my voice.   So, I turn to the person nearest me wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard (*I now know he was the 2^nd A.D. – assistant director), and I said to him; “on the way in here, I noticed a table set up with snacks and asprin n’ stuff (*I now know it’s called the 'craft-service table') and I was wondering if maybe they had some afrin or something like it?”   Without a word, he gets on his radio and asks for craft-services and asks them if they have afrin.   Well, I gotta tell, I was impressed.   He looks back down at me and says; “sorry, they don’t have any…I can send someone to the store to get you some.”   I said; “no, no, no, I don’t want to be a bother.”   He said; “it’s not a bother, what kind do you need?”   Again, I protest; “no really, I don’t want you to go through all that trouble.”   Then he gets this annoyed look on his face, lets out a heavy sigh, and says very sternly; “Look, you need it, don’t you? Tell me what kind and I’ll send someone to the drugstore!”   At that point I surrender and tell him what I need.   Without a word, he gets on his radio and locates one of the P.A.’s (*production assistant) and instructs him to take a van and go to the nearest duane reade (*drug store) and get my afrin.   I gotta tell ya’… it felt… weird.   I have never had anyone wait on me hand-and-foot before.   And to be honest, I was’nt altogether comfortable with it.   I have always been of the mind; if I can do it myself, then I will… I hate asking anyone to go out of their way for me (I won’t even bother waitresses in restaurants if they forget something or if my meal is a little wrong).   But then, he said something to me that made sense; “if your nose is closed shut, you can’t be at your best, and we can’t allow you to leave the set because we don’t know when we’ll be ready to go again, plus you might get your wardrobe dirty, and we’re on the clock, so we can’t afford any delays, so, we have people who will do those things for you…it’s their job.”   Which kinda made it a little better.   And, of course, my mind immediately goes to the dark side; “hhmmm… well, you know, I would be MUCH happier and my performance would be GREATLY enhanced if I had a big piece of chocolate cake right now…”   He looks at me and says; "you want a piece of cake?" "NO! NO! NO! i was just kidding!", I blurt out.   With a straight face he just turns away from me and continues doing his job...he does'nt have time for my foolishness.

Then there was the time I was shooting a pilot for a new show I was hosting.   On the first day of shooting, the producers are introducing me to the crew… director, cameraman, sound guy, etc.   Then he comes to this lady - about 40, kinda butch, in cargo shorts and trail shoes – and he says; “and this is your assistant.”   Wait… what?   My what?   “your assistant, she’ll be your personal assistant during the shoot.”   Ok, now, when we were first discussing the shoot, and they were asking me what I wanted/needed, I remember agreeing to a wardrobe person, and a make-up person… I do not remember agreeing to an assistant.   And that’s definitely something I would’ve remembered... and probably turned-down.   (oh, yeah, that’s another thing... when you’re a real big shot, you’re allowed to ask for all kinds of stuff, like; what you want in your trailer/dressing room, what kind of meals you want, any special requests, etc, etc... the only request i ever make is; coca-cola - enough for the whole shoot)

                           ...in Florida for a TV shoot, got to my hotel room, opened up the mini-fridge...

So, now I feel really weird and awkward.   I think I felt some kind of misguided empathy for the woman, like, it must be humiliating… to be someone’s personal slave.    So, I set about not using her at all, for anything.   And she was really nice, it was’nt anything personal, I just thought I was doing her a favor by leaving her alone.   If I wanted water, I’d walk over and get it… she’d be right there.   If I needed a towel, I go get one… she’d be right there.   She was always right there, right behind me, asking if she could do anything for me.   There was this one time when I wanted to ask Ben something (our producer/director).   We were shooting on a high school football field, he was in the middle of the field, I was over by the bleachers.   So I trotted to the fence, hopped the fence, and began jogging toward Ben.   I don’t remember why I looked behind me, but I did, and I saw my assistant struggling to hop over the fence too, clumsily getting all caught up, then recovering and trotting toward me.   So, I stared walking back toward her, and I yelled; “Stop!”, so she stopped, panting, a little out of breath.   I asked her what the hell was wrong with her, why was she doing this.   And she said to me; “This is my job. I work as a personal assisstant. And if you don’t let me do anything, then they’re going to think they don’t need me, and I’ll be fired from this gig…so please, let me do my job.”   I felt like a piece of shit.   I thought I was sparing her humiliation and hard work, and all I was really doing was making her feel bad and look useless.   From that point on, she was doing all my fetching for me. (it still felt kinda weird, though)   

Then there was that one time when I felt like I had really crossed a line.

So, I was in either Vegas or LA, I can’t remember which, shooting an episode of this other TV show I was hosting.   Now, there’s something about me that all of my close friends know; I am one hairy muthafuka.   And yes, that includes my back.   Usually, I try to hit my back every couple weeks, just to keep it from getting to long, because, it gets SUPER itchy… and I mean distractingly, annoyingly itchy.   But, before i left for this gig, I forgot to hit my back.   And it’s getting really, really itchy.   It was about an hour before I was supposed to be on set, I call the producer and say; “Listen…I really hate to ask this, it’s kind of embarrassing, but I kinda need a weird favor.”   She says; “what do you need?”   I say; “I would never ask this, it’s kind of gross, but it’s a major pain in my ass, and it would really help if…”, she cuts me off and says; “What??? What do you need? Just ask me!”   “Do you think the make-up girl would come up here and [long pause] …shave my back?”   “Absolutely, not a problem, I’ll send her right up.”   Wow.   That was friggin easy!   About 5 min later there’s a knock on my door.   It’s the make-up girl (technically, she’s the “hair and make-up girl”).   “Hi, Hon! So you need a touch-up?”, she laughs, already got her clippers out.   She’s been the hair/make-up chick for all the episodes so I know her pretty well, and we get along great, she's pretty awesome.   I start apologizing again for making her do something so gross.   “oh please…this is nothing, I do this all the time!”, she says, then goes on to tell me about some of the REALLY gross shit she’s been asked to do (like; pop zits and dig out ingrown hairs with a needle, n’ stuff).   After she was done, she even gave me a soothing, cooling alcohol rub… oh my god.   She said it was to prevent razor burn.   I did’nt give a shit why she did it… it felt heavenly.

(I already told the story about how my limo got to breeze right through airport security at LAX back around 2001 when the military had it on complete lockdown, because the soldier looked in the back and saw it was me and waved me through… I think it’s in one of my past blogs)

...VIP status, that's how I roll...

And I’m sure these stories pale in comparison to what other, really big stars could tell.   But, that’s kind of my point... if this is the kind of stuff that happened to me, at my level, I can totally see how certain people (ie; egomaniacal dickheads) can become so spoiled and so entitled when they get to those higher levels of fame & power.   I’m not saying I condone it, or forgive it, I’m just saying I see how it happens...