Jay Leno...

originally posted @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com

...i know a lot of folks feel some kind of way about jay leno… after that whole thing with letterman back in the 90’s, and then again with conan a couple years ago. And, yeah, maybe that stuff does kinda make him look like a dick. But, I gotta tell ya’, in my experience, Jay leno was one of the coolest people I met.

...here’s a couple of quick jay stories.

so, me and the guys were in atlanta making an appearance at some expo, when our publicist, bill (“boom boom”), comes to us very excited and tells us that we need to leave immediately, we’re booked on a flight leaving that night…because we’re going to be on the tonight show, and we needed to be in LA the next day!!! (they require that any out-of-town guests are in town by 5pm the day before the show, as insurance that they won’t no-show) So we go back to our hotel, pack up, and head to the airport. heather kozar - playboy playmate of the millennium - was tagging along with us, apparently she was headed back to the playboy mansion or something (she - along with cindy margolis and brooke burke - was under contract with anheuser-bush at the time so she was at the expo with us). She and I had become buddies at the expo, we sat next to each other and talked the whole way...except for when she fell asleep, nestled snugly on my shoulder. (it’s the little things) But I digress…

We get to LA, check-in to our hotel, and boom-boom tells us that since we did’nt get to go home first, and since we were notorious for only packing casual wear when we traveled, he’s gonna take us shopping in the morning, on budweiser’s credit card. (awwwe-sooome!!!) So, the next day, after breakfast, we head over to macy’s and pick out some outifts (can anyone say “80’s movie music montage”?), and we heard over to the NBC studios in burbank.

We’re met at the studio by laurane - the publicist who got us the appearance, and steve & tracy - the producers handling our segment. They show us to our dressing rooms… there were placards on the doors with our names and the tonight show logo, and pretty sweet gift baskets with ‘tonight show’ coffee mugs, baseball caps, t-shirts, etc… which, to me, was just the coolest thing ever. (i had always heard the guests on talk shows make jokes about the gift baskets, and now, here i am, getting one!) And then, like a bunch of kids on a field trip, we start milling around, checking things out, going in rooms we probably should’nt have gone in, touching things we probably should’nt have been touching. During all this, we noticed something; the dressing rooms at the tonight show were kinda like your grandparent’s house; nice, but, everything’s just a little… old… dingy. Eventually we settle back into our dressing rooms, we’re standing around shootin’ the shit, when jay comes walking in. We all burst into a big “HEY!”, and crowd around him, shaking hands, totally geeking out like fans. “Hey fellas! Good to meet you guys! We’re all really excited to have you on the show! Thanks for coming!”, he says, in that jay leno voice. We introduce ourselves, and engage in some friendly banter. Then, from out of nowhere, paul speaks up and says; “hey jay…you know, we have been on A LOT of tv shows, and, we’ve seen A LOT of dressing rooms, and, I gotta tell ya’, this, by far…is the CRAPPIEST dressing room i’ve seen yet.” Me, fred, and chuck stopped breathing… in our minds we were all totally freaking out, like; “OH SHIT!!! NO HE DID’NT!!!” but, without missing a beat, jay immediately snaps back; “yeah, I know, I’m really sorry about that guys… but, you see... we keep the REALLY nice dressing rooms downstairs for our WHITE guests… we’ve got a chef carving roast beef, butlers serving champagne…” at that moment we all erupted with laughter… and we knew jay leno was cool as shit. (i mean, we all know paul, and totally get his sense of humor, but, we had no idea if jay was gonna take it as a joke… lucky for paul, jay totally got it too… side-note: when i went into make-up, the make-up chick said to me; “I hear jay stopped by your dressing room to say hi… wow… he must really like you guys, he almost never does that!”)

About a year later, i was back at NBC for a meeting. After the meeting, i went over to the tonight show studio and asked if i could say hi to jay. The stage manager said; “absolutely! Just wait here in the wings, he’s doing the post-show wrap-up right now, he’ll just be a few minutes.” The band sees me waiting and waves me over, so I’m shootin’ the shit with kevin eubanks and the band while jay signs autographs and takes pictures, which he apparently does after every show. At some point he looks over and sees me, smiles & waves, and gives me the “wait a minute” finger-signal. I turn back and continue talking with the band. A couple minutes later, I feel someone slap me on my back…hard. I bark; “motherfucker, I’m about whoop somebody’s ass…” as I turn around. Of course it was jay. We shoot the shit for a little bit… i don’t remember about what, i just remember thinking how cool it all was… cool that i was able to just stroll up to the tonight show and get backstage, and cool that jay leno remembered me and came over to talk to me.

But, you know what the one thing is that I remember most vividly whenever i think about jay leno? His head. Jay leno has a REALLY big head. (in the business, they call it “TV head”)

Bernie Mac

originally posted @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com

just finished watching the comedy central special, a tribute to bernie mac.

it got me a little nostalgic, so, i figured i’d write down my memories of bernie.

it’s the spring of 2003. chuck calls me, he wants me to audition for a role in the new movie he’s directing; “mr. 3000”. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0339412/

long story short… i did’nt get the role chuck called me for (“boca", the best friend), but i ended up getting another role (“eddie” the trainer), and i’m glad i did… i got a whole lotta exposure from that role. so, come july, i fly out to new orleans for the start of my 3 weeks of work.

this was my first feature film. my scene with bernie was the very first scene to be shot, so it was the first day on set for the cast & crew. it’s 7am, we’re in the gym of some college which had been set-designed to look like the training room for the milwaukee brewers (why they did’nt just shoot the whole thing in milwaukee, i still don’t know). bernie comes in with his “entourage” (script supervisor, personal assisstant, personal trainer…he’d lost 40 lbs for the role). the first thing that struck me was; bernie was freakin’ tall (6’4”), and his teeth… they were SUPER white, i mean, almost luminescent. it was both weird and transfixing. (is that a word?)

the two of us walk toward location 1 for the first shot, chuck starts to introduce us, bernie, with a big smile, says; “i know who this is, this is your boy, mr. whassup!” i did what I always did in those situations… deflect. (i was always extremely modest about that stuff, and easily embarrassed) we shake hands, and, as we shake, i grip his hand really tight, look him dead in the eye, and say; “you have some lovely hands…do you moisturize?” he’s a little taken aback, and just looks at me like; “what the…?” chuck has no clue what i’m doing and just stands silent… probably more than a little tense. i continue; “do you use aloe vera? You know, ideally, we should all wear gloves to bed at night…” then you see the light of recognition come across bernie’s face… he realizes i’m doing his lines from “ocean’s 11”. he begins to chuckle and says; “oh ok, i see…so, that’s how you want it to be? you sure you wanna go there?” i immediately back down; “no, no, no…you win, i surrender.” i did not want to get into a joke war with bernie mac. but that’s how it began; with a joke, and with bernie being a really good sport. and he could’nt’ve been a more gracious and accommodating actor to work with. he gave me all the room i needed to work, and if i was funny, he’d laugh, and tell me i was funny… which a lot of actors/comedians won’t do… their egos won’t allow them to. there was absolutely no ego about him, and he was so goddamn personable. that night the producers threw a “first night” party on the roof of a hotel in the french quarter. for the entire last half of the night, bernie and i were at a table by ourselves, talking, telling stories… mostly about our adventures coming up in rough neighborhoods. oh, and, pro-wrestling… he and i were both huge fans of old-school pro-wrestling, so we kinda bonded over that too. (i actually pulled a wrestling-based prank on bernie… he told me he was a big fan of “macho man randy savage”, well, so was i, and i used to do a pretty impressive macho man impersonation, so, one day i called bernie’s cell at a time when i knew he could'nt answer and had “macho man” leave him a message; “my veeeery good friend scott told me you’re a big fan of mine, uh huh, yeeeah, well, i’m a big fan of your work too, brother!” etc, etc… the next morning when i got to set, he came up to me, all smiles; “yo man, your boy macho called me yesterday…he told me what you said…thank you, that was cool!” …he gushed about that for a bit, telling the crew how i got the 'macho man' to call him …he was so tickled-pink that i never had the heart to tell him that it was me) at some point during our conversation, he turned to his agent and said; “i like this guy, i think you should talk to him” (pointing at me), then bernie wrote down all of his phone numbers on a napkin: office, home, fax, cell …and told me to call him anytime, and keep in touch with him. (i still have that napkin to this day…i used scotch tape to ghetto-laminate it) after the party was over, as chuck was driving me back to my hotel, he said to me; “man, i looked at you sitting there talking to him like that, and i was just like; ‘damn…how does he do that?’ …i would never have the balls to just walk up and start talking to someone like that …i really admire that about you.” but bernie was cool like that…we just got along.

besides that party, bernie never went out. at the end of the day, he’d go back to his hotel. he might go out for dinner or something, but, he never hit the bars & clubs like we did. the day after that (very) minor altercation in the strip-club [see previous story], when i got on set the next morning, the first person to greet me was bernie, busting my balls; “i heard you let some little white boy whoop yo’ ass at the club last night!” after having a little fun at my expense, he said to me; “see, that’s why i don’t go out…if you don’t go out, you can’t get in trouble.” but then he came in real close, and very quietly spoke to me... he commended me on holding back and not escalating the situation by starting a brawl… ”because then we’d be coming to git ‘cho ass outta jail!”

whenever i was’nt shooting, or just hanging around on location with nothing to do, i’d often go to bernie’s trailer, and we’d just chill and shoot the shit. he always made me feel welcome, he never shooed me away or acted like he did’nt want to be bothered. we had developed quite the little camaraderie. so much so that when we were shooting the scene where i’m dunking him in the pool, at one point chuck yelled cut, and said to me; “yo scott, you gotta get into character, be more adversarial… it’s obvious that you and bernie are friends and it’s coming through on film.”

the production left new orleans after 1 week of shooting and headed up to milwaukee. after the 2nd week of filming, chuck tells me that a bunch of us (cast & producers) are invited to bernie’s house that weekend, he’s having a big 4^th of july cookout. i was a little confused… we’re in milwaukee, bernie has a house in milwaukee? why??? who the hell would buy a house in milwaukee??? i did’nt realize that milwaukee is only 90 minutes from chicago, bernie's hometown. so, that saturday, me and chuck drive down to chicago. bernie’s house is off of a main road… you just see an opening in a stretch of trees, then at the end of the tree-lined driveway, you come to a clearing, and there sits bernie’s palatial estate. a house that if it were in new york or los angeles, would easily cost 5 million...easily.

his wife greets us at the door and welcomes us into a vestibule... which by itself is the size of a 1 bedroom apartment... if that apartment has 20 ft. ceilings. bernie walks up a minute later and tells us; “angela should be right behind ya’ll, so let’s wait for her then we’ll all go in.” a minute later, angela basset shows up. we’re saying our hello’s when i notice a dude with her carrying some bags. when i turn to see who he is, i blurt out an involuntary; “OH SHIT!!!” startled, he stops in his tracks and gets a nervous “WTF???” look on his face. i had no idea that angela basset was married to courtney b. vance!!! whom you all might know as the DA on “law & order: criminal intent”…and i just happen to be one of the biggest law & order geeks on the planet. i calmly apologize for my outburst and tell him what a huge fan i am. but i digress. bernie and his wife proceed to give us the tour of the house…which was gorgeous. we all go downstairs to his basement / rec-room… which is decked out with a pool table, video games, poker/blackjack table, and a mini movie theater, complete with the chairs, big screen, and surround sound. As i’m walking around checking stuff out, bernie taps me on the shoulder and says; “c’mere, i got something just for you…” he opens the door to his workout room… which is a gross understatement… the man had a fully equipped gym in his basement, with a full line of professional quality equipment. He smiled and said; “have fun” and walked out of the room. i could hear chuck laughing in the background.

(side note… later in the afternoon, i got myself a plate of food and took it out to the deck… sitting alone at the table was a young black girl and white boy… i said hi, introduced myself, and asked who she was to bernie… she told me she was his neice… totally joking, i asked; “the one from the show?” …she sighed and said; “yeah”, like she’s had to admit that 1000 times before… so, i actually got to meet the actual neice!)

there's one conversation in particular that i had with bernie that i’ll never forget…

i was in his den, and all over the walls were photos, magazine & newspaper articles, awards, and all kinds of memorabilia. he came in as i was looking around, and i told him how i used to have all of my articles, photos n’ stuff hung up all around my apartment, but, i took them all down, because my friends would come over and clown me, making fun of my “shrine” to myself. (my buddy chad once said; “the only person i know who has more pictures of himself hung up all over his house is jesus” …which, you have to admit, is REALLY good line) bernie looked at me, he got real serious, and said; “man, fuck them... those are your accomplishments... your memories... you worked hard for those things... you be proud of them... you go home and you hang your pictures back up, boy!” and i did. yeah...fuck them haters.

later that night, bernie gathered us all together… the A&E network had done an episode of their show “biography” about him, and he had an advance copy, so, we all gathered in the basement and watched it on the big movie screen. that was pretty cool.

my last day on set, before i left for the airport, i was in bernie’s trailer, eatin’ chicken wings & watchin’ him play cards with his people.

later that year, sometime in the fall, i called bernie’s cell. i wanted to ask him if he’d hook me up with a role on his sitcom. bernie did’nt answer, his assistant did. when he asked who was calling and i told him it was me, his demeanor changed from all-business to “hey man, what’s up! how you doin’?” we chatted for a second, then he told me; “bernie’s shooting right now, but i’m gonna have him call you back, probably around 5, is that ok?” i said that was fine, and we hung up. now, i’d been in the business long enough to know, the percentage of people who actually call you back when they say they’re gonna call you back is about 30% - 40%. so, i was pretty much expecting not to get a call. i even left the house to run some errands n' stuff. at around 4:45, as i walking down south st., my phone rings. it’s the assistant. he says; “bernie’s gonna call you in 15 minutes, ok?” i was shocked. i mean, i’d heard of this kind of thing before -- where assistants do the “pre-call” -- i’d just never experienced it. i found it to be both very baller and quite amusing at the same time. then, at 4:55, my phone rings again; “bernie’s going to call you in 5 minutes.” and, sho' nuff, at 5 o’clock on the dot, my phone rings, and i hear a familiar voice say; “i hear it’s cold as a witch's titty up there in philadelphia right now…how you keepin’ warm?” we chatted for a good 15 minutes. (which is a LONG time for a busy hollywood player like him) i told him why i was calling, he told me to send him my headshot and he would talk to casting and see if there was an episode they could put me in. (sadly, i did’nt happen, and i don't like bugging people again after i already bugged them once, so i never asked again, i let it go)

i only spoke to bernie a couple times after that. but, i will say this; every time i called him, he always got back to me.

just like everyone else, when i heard he had died, i was shocked. i did’nt believe it. i thought it was a mistake. i called his assistant and asked about arrangements, and where i could send flowers. i knew i would’nt be attending the memorial, because, we'd just had my mother's funeral a couple weeks before bernie passed, so, i had a lot to do back home. whenever i think about it, i still feel kinda bad… i wish i could’ve made it to his memorial and paid my respects. i know i did’nt know him for very long, but, i genuinely liked bernie mac… he was a good dude, and i have nothing but good memories of him.

the time i almost kicked steven segal's ass...

originally posted @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com


...ok, not really. but kinda.

me and the guys were in LA, along with our manager, mark, making the rounds at TV studios and such. one day while we're in the limo going hither & thither, mark gets a call. he talks for a couple minutes, and when he's done, he informs us that the producer of steven segal's next movie wants us to be in it. he asks if that's something we wanna do. in the immortal words of stone cold steve austin; we gave him a big "hell yeah!!!" so mark instructs the driver to take us to warner brothers studio.

...i always got the biggest kick out of the littlest things.
...i always loved pulling up to the (iconic) gates of those big time hollywood studios, and being waved in by the guard. made me feel all rat-pack like.

...kinda like the time when i was going to LAX. [TANGENT ALERT] it was right around 2001 - 2002, when security was thick. my towncar gets flagged down by one of the m-16 toting soldiers manning the security checkpoint at the border of the airport. the driver rolls down the window to speak with him. the soldier tells him to roll down the back window (presumably, to make sure it was'nt hussein bin laden trying to escape LA). my driver turns and looks at me, i nod. (pretty baller, huh?) he rolls down my window, the soldier walks over, bends down, looks in, sees it's me, smiles, i salute, he walks back over to the driver and tells him "go ahead", then yells up ahead to the other soldiers; "this one's good, let him through!" (now that's EXTRA baller) anyway...back to the story...

we pull into the warner bros. lot, and are directed to our parking space. i get out and immediately take a picture of the water tower with the big WB on it (always makes me think of 'blazing saddles', and 'tiny toons'). we walk into the huge soundstage, we see some people down at the other end doing something. as we watch, we realize it's actors from the movie practicing a fight scene on wires...i could'nt make out who was who, but there was a crew of chinese dudes, and two people in harnesses, and the chinese dudes are working the wires as the 2 dudes work on the fight choreography, flying up & down, back & forth, with a shit ton of mats beneath them. a young female PA comes up and asks us who we are, we tell her, she walks back to the group and talks to this large white dude with long hair. he comes rushing over, yelling; "HEY!!! IT'S THE GUYS!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!" in a very thick russian(?) accent. turns out he's the director - andrzej bartkowiak (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005647/) he's gushing up and down about how much he loves the commercials and how happy he is we came. apparently it was his idea to put us in the movie. as we're talking, the crew practicing the fight wrap up and walk over to where we are. one of them was DMX. now, you gotta understand...this was during the time when "it's dark and hell is hot" and "flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood" were on constant rotation on my walkman (yes, walkman...it was 2001). so meeting him was kind of a thrill...that is, until i met him. first of all, he's short. like 5'8"...maybe 5'9", tops. second of all, he was kinda anti-social. not particularly friendly or congenial. he stood there like a military cadet, hands behind his back, and he answered everything "yes sir" and "no sir". i was mad. this is muthafukin' DMX!!! i want some cursing...i want him to call me nigga, or motherfucker, or something!!! not "sir"!!! when andrzei introduced us and told him who we were, he said he had'nt heard of us or the commercials, in a very stoic, curt manner. which, is fine...i don't give a shit about that...i don't care if people don't recognize me or know who i am. but...and i don't know why...i just got the impression that he was playing us off...like he just did'nt want to admit he'd heard of us. and that annoyed me, on top of everything else. (later, paul & fred also expressed the same sentiments) so, after a couple of minutes of this anti-climactic banter, we excused ourselves to go meet with the producer of the film. andrzei bids us an enthusiastic farewell, saying he's looking forward to working with us. he was kinda awesome. the PA walks us over to the offices. i had no idea what we were walking into, but...our meeting was in the offices of mr. joel silver!!! you know; the guy who produced predator, the matrix, lethal weapon, die hard, etc, etc, etc. in other words; the man. when you walk in, there's a desk on the left and the right where the office girls sit, amidst a sea of props from all his movies, on shelves, hanging on the walls, standing as displays, etc...like; the actual model of the nebuchadnezzar hanging from the ceiling, and the actual predator costume, in all it's 7 ft. glory, standing posed for action. it was SO freakin' cool!!! we did'nt have long to marvel, though, because we were taken back immediately for our meeting. sadly, it was'nt with joel...it was with another producer. (i can't remember his name, but you can imdb the credits and pick the one you think this resembles)

this guy was your stereotypical hollywood character...late 30's(?), brown suit, very loud & boisterous, with a bit of a cocky air about him, sitting behind his desk, with two young, suited execs(?) / assistants(?) standing at his left and his right, both holding clipboards. as the meeting went on, i noticed that they mirrored his every expression, attitude, mood, response. the archetypal "yes men" (except one was girl). so, he greets us in very much the same manner as andrzei. he tells us how much he loves us, and how he wants us to be in his movie. he kinda implies that it was his idea to get us in the movie, and he's got that "how would you boys like that, huh?" undertone to his offer. i immediately feel...some kind of way...about this guy. he then goes on to tell us that this is going to be steven segal's first movie in several years (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0242445/fullcredits#cast), after his last few flops, and this was going to be his "big comeback movie", and he gushed about how great this was going to be and how high their expectations were. (yeah, movie producers really do talk in those stereotypical grandiose terms and with the hperbole you see in movies)

so then, he lays out the role they see us in...
in the opening scene, steven segal's character is in an anger management class. (this concept really cracks our boy up, he thinks it's SO clever and funny...it makes me think it was his idea) when segal comes out of class, he sees some thugs stealing his car. he tries to reason with them calmly, because, you know, anger-management n' stuff, but, the thugs get tough with him, and...well, you know how it ends. he wants us to be the thugs. (the whole time as he's talking, the two assistants(?) / execs(?) stand behind him hanging on every word, laughing and agreeing enthusiastically at all the appropriate places)

he finishes explaining the scene to us, and sits there with a big, self-satisfied grin on his face. we're silent. then, as usual, i'm the first to speak up. the first words out of my mouth were; "so, you offer 3 young black guys a role in your movie, and the only thing you can think of them doing is stealing a car?" he's stunned. he just looks at us, his smile frozen on his face, but the stun clearly registered in his eyes. i look at the two assistants...equally stunned, with a visible hint of panic. then paul chimes in and agrees with me. we start tossing them ideas about how we could do the scene, but in a way less stereotypical (ie; not racist) way. he "listens", then says; "yeah, ok, those are definitely ways we could go...let me think about it...i'll get back to you." and with that, he stands up and shakes our hands goodbye. i immediately knew that i'd blown any chance of us being in the movie. some time later, i apologized to the guys for opening my big mouth. i felt kinda bad for allowing my militant impulses to ruin it for everybody else. they both dismissed it with a wave; "eh, don't even worry about it, that shit was'nt for us anyway." (but, of course, being the dicks that they are, later, after the movie was released, the relentless teasing began..."that was supposed to be us up there, man!!!")

epilogue: (or; just a bit of fun trivia) ...not long after, i was hanging out at a nightclub back home in philly, and my buddy 'big nick', one of my oldest bouncer friends, excitedly tells me he just got a role in a new steven segal movie. i had to laugh. apparently, nick's boss, john, just happened to know someone on the crew, heard they were looking for a big bouncer type, recommended nick, he met with the casting director, and got the part! how cool is that? it was a different scene...he plays one of 2 bouncers in a nightclub that give segal a run for his money. i saw his scene...he was actually really good! (nick's the one who is'nt samoan: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5Q2ETtxkgY) on opening night, john bought out all the seats in the local theater and had a private vip showing for all of nick's family & friends. nick was tickled pink to be a rockstar for a night! he's a really great guy, so it was fun to see him get his turn in the spotlight. it's just funny how small a world it is sometimes...how friggin' random is it that a buddy of mine from philly would wind up in the very same movie that i was almost in...

but yeah...i woulda had to take a swing at segal on set...and after i soundly defeated tubby von whispers in an epic battle of kung fu vs. aikido, i woulda cut off that ponytail and wore it as a trophy. i'm jus' sayin'...

"the mirror crack'd"

originally posted @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com/

...a quickie.
...i just remembered this.

...so, i was at this audition. it was for dr. scholl's...you know, those "are you gellin'?" commercials. anyway, we were auditioning in groups of 5. it was me, 3 other guys, and a girl. they have some lines of dialogue on a cue card. after we slate (ie; say our names to the camera) the casting agent (is it casting "agent" or casting "director", i'm STILL confused about that one) tells us which lines he wants us to read, and to do it in the very relaxed style of the other gellin' commercials. we do our first take. he stops us, and wants us to do it again, but he gives us some notes on how we should do it this time.
here's what he says;

"ok, have you guys seen those budweiser commercials? the ones with those really cool black guys, and they're all saying 'whassup' to each other?"
...the other actors all nod their heads...
"well, try to do it like them...really cool and laid-back...ok?"

...well, i'm just standing there, my eyes darting back & forth, looking at the other actors, and i'm sure i must've had a stupid look on my face. i distinctly remember feeling A) very amused (because here he is literally referencing my commercials, right to my face) and B) kinda confounded (because no one, not even the casting agent, realized it was me in the room with them). so, on the next take, i did my best impersonation of myself. long story short: i got the commercial.



...and no, i never said anything to anyone that day. i just chuckled to myself...and still do whenever i remember that.

...the shoot was a couple days before christmas. we shot on location at the stock exchange building right across the street from ground zero...from our dressing room window you could look right into the big hole. that was humbling, and awe-inspiring.
...the shoot lasted from 7am til midnight, which is a LONG day...and yet, those fuckers did'nt even give us free dr. scholl's to wear!!! i mean c'mon...at least throw the principal actors a free pair, for chrissake! you know, so we could get into character, or something! (but, on the bright side; overtime pay!!! *cha-ching*)
...my fellow actor (the guy next to me in the pic, i won't name names), well, he was a bit of a grumpy pants that day. he did'nt wanna say the lines the way the director & client wanted him to. so, after a few takes doing it "his way", the director gave me one of his lines. yeah...awkward. but he knew it was coming. he said to me at one point; "i think they're gettin' pissed at me." to which i just nodded. when we broke for dinner, a cute young lady in a business suit pulled me to the side. she introduced herself as one of the execs from dr. scholl's. she told me she was a fan, and she thanked me for doing such a great job...then she griped a little about the other guy's work & attitude, and how the other execs & producers were all kinda baffled about why he was being so difficult. i did'nt wanna bash a fellow actor, so just politely smiled & nodded. but, i gotta tell ya', i'll never understand the actors who take commercial gigs, then wanna get bitchy & moody about their "artistic integrity"...dude, it's a tv commercial for rubber insoles, not a goddamn soderbergh film.
...the girl in the commercial is andrea rosen, of whom i am a big fan.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SLLOwx0ZDU


(epilogue: the commercial ran for a year, which is a really long time for most tv commercials, then i got the release letter from my agency stating dr. scholl's would'nt be using it anymore -- except -- a few months later, people started telling me; "hey, i just saw your commercial today!" -- and then -- i started seeing it myself...so, of course i called my agency and told them to find out why dr. scholl's was using the commercial again without renewing the contract, or paying any residuals...well, after a couple of weeks of getting the runaround, dr. scholl's finally admitted "a mistake was made", and cut a check...it was only an "estimate" based on how many times i could "prove" it aired, but it was something...my agent told me it happens a lot, and trying to sue them for the whole amount i was due would be more costly than it's worth, so take the money and just chalk it up to experience...and i'm sure that's why it happens so often, because companies count on the fact that agents/actors won't want to spend all of the time/effort/resources necessary to recover the money owed, and they can get away with getting it cheap, or even free if they never get caught...dr. scholl's pulled the spots soon after that and never aired them again...i told my agent to contact the other actors in the spot to let them know they were owed some money, too...and this was my first experience with major corporations trying to shaft actors for money, and get away with using your work for free...guess i blew my chances at getting any future dr. scholl's work, huh?)

...sometimes you just gotta say; "WTF???"

originally posted @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com/

…I’m kinda reluctant to tell this story, because I don’t know if the main character had a significant other at the time, and if by some random chance this gets out into the ether, he might be in a little trouble. lemme go google his relationship history, see if I can coordinate the dates, and get back to you…

…ok, according to my research, he was single, so it’s safe.
…it was summer 2003. we were on location in new orleans, shooting mr. 3000. It was the 1st or 2nd day of shooting. That night, most of the cast decides to meet up on burboun st. for a little revelry. I roll with my boy chuck (director) and his two buddies shane and doug (DP and camerman). Our first stop was a little shrimp shack for pre-drinking eats. This was notable because it was the first time I ever heard a now infamous term. We were sitting at the counter, there was a group of young college-ish guys sitting at a table behind us. Then, four 40-ish chicks came sauntering in… tan, war paint, hairdos, miniskirts, high heels, cleavage galore... the whole lisa rinna starter kit. They were blatantly on the prowl. They immediately close in on the young guys, pull up chairs from adjacent tables and literally surround them. I got a real chuckle out of this. I nudged chuck, who turns and looks, chuckles, and casually says; “yeah, varsity cougars.” I roared with laughter. It was SO perfect in it’s descriptiveness. Of course, these days it’s a widely recognized syndrome and everyone uses the term…except “varsity” got dropped...which is a shame, because varsity adds that extra touch of poignancy to it.

…we leave the shrimp shack and meet up with everyone else at some predetermined corner on burboun st. There was about 15 of us, most of the main cast. (except bernie mac…he never went out or partied, he always stayed in his hotel…”the best way to avoid any trouble”, he later told me) As we strolled down the middle of burboun st. to our next destination, amongst our ranks were two notables; chris noth, aka; “mr. big”, and evan jones, aka; “cheddar bob” from “8 mile”, which was still hot at that time. And I found it quite amusing how the female fans broke down into 2 distinct camps. All of the females 25 and up were screaming “OH MY GOD, MR. BIG!!! MR BIG!!!”, while all of the females under 25 were screaming; “OH SHIT! IT’S CHEDDAR BOB!!!” …as they both got mobbed by dozens of hot chicks. And they were both VERY gracious about signing autographs and taking pics, and getting strangled as girls grabbed their necks the way girls do when they wanna reach up/pull you down to give you a kiss. Eventually we arrive at our first stop; the penthouse club. The stage was a U shape, and we took up all the seats at the top of the stage. I was sitting at the tip of the U, smack dab in the middle. We’re having a good ol’ time. We're there maybe 20 min. when, from out of nowhere, I feel someone push me in my back, kinda hard. I spin around in my chair, look up, and see some average looking, mid-20’s, casey-siemaszko-looking white dude. Over the loud music I can’t hear what he's saying, but he’s mean-mugging and gesturing like he’s really pissed off at me. And it's obvious he's had a few cocktails. Now, I have never seen this cat before in my life, so, I have no clue what his deal is. So, he’s standing there raging at me, and I'm still sitting, just kinda curiously looking at him, but not feeling particularly threatened, because…honestly, I did’nt think I’d have any problem handling the lil’ fella. Suddenly, chuck leaps up from his chair, shoves the guy full force in the chest and bellows; “YO! BACK UP OFF MY BOY!!!” Almost immediately, amaury jumps up and has chuck’s back. Unbeknownst to us, the drunk dude had buddies there…they see what’s going down and rush over. Well, the next thing I know, d’ondre is leaping over me, then ian jumps up…pretty soon, most of the cast were up in this dude’s face. I'm still sitting in my chair. Kinda stunned, and touched, by this outpouring of manly support. Ian, with his deep bass voice, was trying to talk the guys away, stepping inbetween everyone and telling the dude & his buddies to walk away. Finally I stand up and walk up to the dude, who’s being held back by his buddies. I can now hear that they’re all saying; “we’re sorry, we’re sorry, our friend is drunk, we’re leaving!” (which has always baffled me…I saw this phenomenion A LOT in my days as a bouncer; guys who assert forcefully; “ok, ok, just leave me alone, I’m going!!!”, and yet, they just stand there, not leaving…I don’t get that) so I say to them; “well then leave! Why are you still standing here? Take your boy and get outta here before I take him out!” Finally they back out of the club, carrying dude, who’s still gesturing and mean-mugging at me. To this day I have no idea who he was or why he wanted a piece of me. We all stood there watching them walk out, and few beats later, “security” comes walking over. A tubby bastard, about 6’ with a mullet and bad facial hair, and a skinny kid, about 5’9”, 160 lbs., with a buzz cut and freckles. (or acne…it was dark) “everything alright over here?”, the tubby bastard asks…and he could’nt've been more nonchalant if he tried. We all barked at them; “yeah! Because WE handled it! But thanks, security.” They just kinda shrugged and strolled away. We sat back down and continued our fun. Soon, we decided to hit another spot.

…there was this bar right off of burboun st. that a few of them knew about & liked, so, we broke off into 2 camps, and half of us went to that bar. We were’nt in there long when chuck bumped into this really cute asian chick who worked on the crew, and started chatting her up. So, I’m just hanging back, sipping on my coke, letting him do his thing. I get a tap on my shoulder. I turn and it’s chris noth. Quickly and quietly he says in my ear; “help me out”, then, with his arm around my shoulder, presents me to two young blondes standing at the bar. Twins. “ladies, do you know my friend, scott? Scott, this is rebecca and theresa” (I’m totally making those names up) He then shoves me toward theresa and says; “why don’t you two talk”, as he turns and focuses on rebecca. I instantly get with the program, snap into my role as wing-man and start chatting up theresa. So, we’re chillin’ at the bar, having a pleasant little conversation…she’s telling me all about how she’s pre-med at some university and they’re in new orleans for vacation, blah blah blah. All of a sudden, a realization hits me like a bolt of lightning… “scott, you’re in a bar, in new orleans, playing wing-man for ‘mr. big’…with blonde twins!!! How in the fuck did this happen???“ But, I maintained my composure and continued with my duties.

…that was definitely one of those “pinch me” moments in life.

(how did that story end? None of your goddamn business, that’s how)

...fuckin' groupies.

originally posted @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com

...few things irked me more than groupies.
to me, there's just something really infuriating about a chick who wants to talk to you/bang you simply because you're famous. i think i take it as an insult or something...oh, what, if i was'nt famous, you would'nt wanna bang me? yeah, ok, sure, i did kinda enjoy the fact that if there was a girl i wanted to meet, i did'nt have to work hard to do it...i had a guaranteed "in". it's a curious and fascinating study of human nature. if i were just some guy off the street, i'd have to do the "peacock strut" to break the ice and arouse a chick's interest (be attractive & stylish, be charming & impressive, make great conversation & be interesting, etc) ...and we'd have to spend at least a little time "getting to know each other", so she can feel reasonably safe & comfortable with me. but, oh no, not when you're famous. being famous is almost like an implied background check. if the world knows you, well, you must be something pretty special, and you gotta be "safe", right? but, that's not really the same thing. all that stuff applies to meeting a girl you genuinely dig and want to go out with. that's not what i'm talking about here. i'm talking about groupies. chicks who throw you the p*ssy, no questions asked, simply because they saw you on TV. and that shit really turns me off.

the first time i remember it happening was at the new york times...
we were there to do an interview, and when we walked into the lobby some people saw us and kinda flocked around us. after signing a couple autographs and taking a couple pictures, we headed to the elevator. right before the doors shut, a girl quickly squeezes in. i recognized her from being amongst the folks who gathered in the lobby; a pretty, 20-ish, tall blonde. she asks; "so, who are you guys?" we tell her. she's never heard of us, and seems pretty much underwhelmed. (this was in the very early days of the commercials, so, not unusual) but then she says; "can i have your autographs?" i immediately snap at her; "why? you don't even know who we are!" and she says; "yeah, but those people said you're famous, so..." i don't remember exactly what i said; but i know it was something along the lines of "get the fuck outta here with that bullshit!", accompanied by a disgusted scowl. paul and fred, to their credit, joined me in that sentiment. she just kinda shrugged...not particularly dejected, just an "oh well" kind of shrug. for the rest of the elevator ride we made fun of her like she was'nt in the room. and this kind of scenario repeated itself several times over the years...in a washington DC nightclub, where 2 very pretty black chicks came up to me asking how long i was going to be in town and if i needed a place to stay that night...in the vip suite of a dallas sports arena, where a really cute light-skinned girl and her blonde friend invited me back to their apartment for a "party" that night...etc, etc. and yeah, say what you want, but i declined every time. and depending on my mood, it might've been a fairly harsh rebuke...to put it mildly. (i should also mention; i was in a serious relationship for most of that time during our fame, and i had no desire to cheat on my girl...but, even if i was single, i'm sure i'd've still reacted the same way)

then there was this other time...i'm not sure if i should name the city, or the person...but, we were making a nightclub appearance at a huge outdoor "beach" club. and, as always, there were local reps from "the company" there to assist us and handle the appearance. and there was this one guy in particular, a company exec., every time i turned around, he was right there, smiling at me, offering me stuff. he never asked me what i wanted, he would just offer me stuff. he was obviously totally geeked to be in the presence of a celebrity, and yeah, he was trying to be "helpful", but it was coming from a very sycophant-ish place. and one of the main things he repeatedly offered me was girls. he kept asking if i wanted to meet this chick, or that chick, or the other chick, pointing them out as he asked. he kept gushing about how hot the 'bud girls' were (local models they hire to walk around in budweiser minidresses), and how they're all "ready to go"... oh really? they are? did you hire them from the local brothel? or, is one of the questions on the job application; "are you willing to 'party' with the vip's? *wink wink*" i told him no every time, and i tried to make it clear i did'nt want him to get me girls. but he did'nt get the message. either he just was'nt hearing me, or he must've thought i was just being modest. but it got really annoying really fast. it became painfully obvious that he was trying to live vicariously through me...he wanted SO BADLY for me to go full-on rockstar and party hard with some hot lil' piece of ass that he hooked me up with...and probably want to watch, or join in. fuckin' freak. at some point during the night, he comes and gets me, and leads me over to where he had 3 girls standing next to each other in a line. he waved his hand like a "price is right" showcase showgirl, and had this really big shit-eatin' grin on his face. "you like them? they're pretty hot, huh?", he says. the girls are just standing there smiling. i just look at him, saying nothing. "which one do you like? go ahead, pick the one you like"...like i was friggin jim kelly in "enter the dragon". i fuckin' snapped. "dude!!! what the fuck is wrong with you??? stop trying to pimp girls to me!!! if i want a fucking girl, i'll go get one myself, ok??? now, stop it!!! seriously!!!" he was still standing there with his hand outstretched, but now his huge smile slowly transforms into gape-mouthed confusion. he really could'nt wrap his brain around it. i turned and walked away...i immediately went to the the main bud exec who was organizing the appearance, and i barked at him, telling him to do something about his boy because he was pissing me off. the bud exec made a bee-line for the guy and reamed him out. (i do miss the days of being accompanied by a team of people who's sole purpose it was to do your bidding *lol*) of course, for the rest of the night, the guy was all pissy toward me and shot me angry-sad faces every time he caught my eye. he was actually really hurt that i did'nt wanna play with him. i mean...it's not like he and i had been talking and he got a sense that i was down to party...this guy did'nt know me from adam, and i gave him zero indication that i was that kinda dude, he just made assumptions based on the fact i was a "celebrity", so of course that means i must want chicks served to me on a platter. *grumble* ...idiot.

...ok, this is'nt technically a groupie story, but, i think it's funny.
...we're in miami. we have a night off. we decide to hit a club. i remembered that one of my old club-buddies from philly had moved to miami and was working at 'level', so we head over there. the line out front was'nt even a line...it was a mob. we heard people saying that this-celebrity and that-celebrity were supposed be there that night. *meh*...whatever...we just wanted to hang out. so, i squeeze my way to the ropes (having worked the club scene for so many years I; a) refuse to ever wait in a line, and b) know how to work my way into almost any club). the door girl looked like the smokin' hot, glamour-goth, unholy spawn of alana de la garza and 'bride of frankenstein'...black latex bustier, black panties, severe high heels, jet-black hair pulled up into a top ponytail. now, my plan was to get her attention and tell her we were dejuan's friends from philly. but, as soon as she saw my big moon face leering at her, she smiled, walked over, grabbed the rope, asked me who was with me, and let us all in. 'cause we're baller, that's why. she calls over one of the hostesses and instructs her to take us to vip. i thank her, she kisses me on the cheek and says; "no problem sweetie, have a great time." the hostess grabs me by the hand and starts navigating her way through the mass of people like an icebreaker ship. she tells me to make sure my party stays close and does'nt get lost...so i grab paul's hand, he grabs fred's hand, and he grabs puerto, and we're being led through the club like kindergartner's on a field trip. she takes us to the back of the club, the bouncer lifts the rope when he sees her coming, and she sets us up at a booth. so now we're in vip, a world away from the chaos just outside the rope. a hostess comes over, paul & puerto order bottles of something expensive. i ask her where my boy dejuan is, she gets a big smile on her face; "you know dejuan???" i tell her i'm an old friend from philly, she takes me over the the bar where he is. he and i do the man-hug and chat for a second, then i make my way back to our booth. so, we're chillin' in vip, having a pretty good time. the boys are off mingling, i'm sitting up on the backrest of the booth, watching the crowd, kinda off to myself. after a bit, a girl comes over and sits a couple feet from me, up on the backrest, just like me. very pretty puerto rican girl, long curly hair, little black dress and heels. i notice but don't say anything. soon enough she starts chatting me up...just some small talk, very casual. she moves over and sits closer, we keep chatting. then the chatting becomes flirting. nothing too heavy-handed, subtle, but definitely flirting. i tell her that we're leaving the next day for DC, for NBA all-star weekend...she informs me that she'll be there too. i ask; "oh really? cool! are you going just to hang out or, what?" she says; "um, i'm working." "that's cool, what do you do?", i ask. she gives me some answer which i can't remember anymore. but she gives me her card (which has a very professional black & white photo of her lying on the beach) and tells me to call her, and we'll hook up when we're in DC, then walks away. i'm thinking; "awesome!" not long after, the hostess comes back over, bringing some drinks that the guys ordered. she's got this sheepish smile on her face, and asks; "i saw you getting a little buddy-buddy with that girl...do you know her?" i said no. she says; "ok, look, maybe this is'nt my place, but, you're a friend of dejuan's, and i love dejuan, so, i feel like i should tell you." i'm sitting there oblivious, like a puppy listening to a human talking. "um...she's working", the hostess says. i'm still oblivious, no clue what she meant. "she 'works' here...you know...a professional?" it still took about 3 seconds before it dawned on me. i don't know why i was so slow...i think because i totally did not see this girl as a pro...she had none of the usual tell-tale signs, so nothing registered in my brain, so when she told me this, i was'nt making the connection. but then, it all made sense. i gotta hand it to her though...she was very smooth! totally had me fooled! i might've even called her and hooked up in DC...then been mad as a muthafuka when she handed me a bill at the end of the weekend!!! i thanked the hostess profusely for saving me from that embarrassment, then ran to paul & fred like a little kid; "yo!!! that chick was fuckin' hooker!!!"

"DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM???"

originally posted @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com

Anyone who knows me, knows i never gave a crap about fame, or any of the pomp & circumstance that came along with it. But...there have been a few situations where it made things quite interesting...

Part 1; Snooty Boutique Girl

So, I’m in LA working on some TV show. On this particular afternoon I’ve got some time to kill. I head over to the beverly center (that’s the huge mall right on the border of beverly hills). I wander into a little boutique that sells trendy women’s stuff, figuring I’ll buy my (then) girlfriend a couple things. Now, I will be the first to admit, I do not look like your “typical” beverly center patron. I was very…shall we say…casual. (ie; my usual…as my friends back home in philly know all too well) So, I’m browsing around the boutique, and the very cute & stylish little puerto rican salesgirl is eyeing me up. But not in the good way. Eventually she comes from behind the counter and starts keeping a closer eye on me, while pretending to straighten clothes on the rack, etc. I notice, but say nothing. I’m used to it. But then, she takes it up a notch…she comes up to me, as I’m looking at a shirt…one of those tie-dye wifebeaters with “bitch” written on the front in rhinestones, which were all the rage at that time…and she says; “that’s $175.” I turn to her and say; “uh, ok…” with that I-did’nt-ask-you-the-price look on my face/tone in my voice. Then, this little bitch has the nerve to follow up by saying; “you know, we have a no cash return policy here. So, you can’t return any items for cash.” As if i was gonna steal it then try to return it for cash (or worse, my big triflin’ ass was gonna wear it, stretch it out, then try to return it!!!) Ok…now I’m officially pissed. I’ve got my mouth open, ready to blast her with a salvo of very nasty words, when, as if on cue, this stylish young puerto rican chap comes bounding into the store, carrying bags of food. He sees me and immediately erupts with a big “WHASSUUUUUP!!!” ...the girl looks at him, utterly confused. Then he starts gushing to the salesgirl; “oh my god, you don’t know who this is??? This is ‘dookie’, the whassup guy, from the commercials!!!” He starts telling me what big fan he is, how much he loves the commercials, asking all kinds of questions, yadda yadda yadda. As he’s talking, he’s walking behind the counter…it dawns on me; he works there and was just returning from lunch. So now you see the look of realization slowly creep across the girls face, and her snooty attitude quickly flips to ass-kissing. (I’m still not sure if she knew who I was, or if she was just responding to the fact I was obviously someone famous) Now she’s all too happy to wait on me, asking if there’s anything she can do for me. (the dude was funny, he was giving her the “get over there” wave of the hand while admonishing her “go help the gentleman out!”) I told her I liked the wifebeaters but was’nt sure what size my girl would need. She asks; “what size is she? Is she about my size?” , as she steps back and poses. I look her up & down and say; “hm…yeah, she is…except your boobs are much smaller.” Yes, I was intentionally trying to be a bit dickish. For a moment she paused and blinked, then shook it off and started making suggestions about what size I should get. “I don’t know…I’d need to see it on…why don’t you try it on for me.” Now, to this day, I have NO idea where this stroke of asshole genius came from, but, it worked. She smiled, said; “ok!” and skittered over to the dressing room. The guy gave me a big smile and thumbs up, as he slurped his chinese noodles. She came back with the shirt on, I gave her the finger gesture to spin around, and I studied the shirt like it was a friggin’ physics equation. I told her I was’nt quite sure, and gave her the pink one to try on, which she did... Then the blue one... If I remember correctly, I had her try on about 5 shirts. Eventually, I figured she’d done her penance. I ended up buying 2 shirts and a really cool belt…for somewhere around $500. I only mention that because, even though I had tons of dough, coming from a modest, middle-class background, it never ceased to amaze me how much money things cost in that world. And I left the store, like caesar, triumphant, as the two of them smiled & waved goodbye. (yeah, I know, it would’ve made a way better ending if, after her making do all that work, I had walked out and not bought anything…but, I did’nt have the heart to be THAT big a dick, plus I knew my girl would really love those shirts)

Part 2: Snubbed Then Redeemed at Morton’s

We’re in LA. Paul wants to go out for dinner. I meet him in the lobby of our hotel, along with his uncle who’s visitng, and the 3 of us drive around, scouting restaurants. After passing up about a dozen, finally we settle on morton’s in beverly hills. Now, I had a couple buddies back home who worked at the morton’s in downtown philly, but I had never been, and I did’nt know anything about it, only that it was fancy. I did’nt even know it was a chain, til that night. Paul’s uncle, being an older gentleman, was dressed “business casual.” Paul and I looked like we had just come back from the jersey boardwalk…we’re both in cargo shorts, paul’s got on sandals, I’ve got on a tank top. By now, he and I were so used to getting in places without anyone batting an eye, that we stopped thinking about our attire. We walk into the lobby, there’s a tall, blonde, beautiful hostess at the podium. She, literally, looked us up and down, then, very graciously, said; “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ll be able to seat anymore customers tonight.” It was about 8pm. Paul cranes his neck over and peers into the main dining area, then says; “um, I can see several empty booths from here.” She smiles and says; “yes, I’m sure, but, I just don’t think we’ll be able to accommodate anyone else this evening.” Paul’s gets heated. I’m thinking to myself; “typical.” Paul’s uncle says; “let me talk to her”, walks up to the podium and tries to politely reason with the young lady, but she is obviously not budging. Just as he’s doing that, some folks are departing the restaurant, passing us on their way out the door. One of them is a guy and his companion…she’s a tall, gorgeous, typical LA blonde in a “little black dress”, he’s kind of a stocky version of david cross in a very expensive black suit (you can just tell). As he walks by, he sees me and does a double-take, then yells (really loud) “WHASSUUUP!!!” He’s REALLY excited to see me, and he’s got one of those voices that blares like a megaphone. He starts gushing; “Hey Hey! My man! I love you guys! Where’re your boys? What are you doing here? I heard you got a TV deal! I’m a huge fan! I’m gonna look for you guys on TV! Good luck to you!” …it was like a tornado…he hit out of nowhere, caused a lot of uproar, then was gone. When he first recognized me, my first instinct was to look over at the hostess…I saw her head pop up like a deer at a watering hole when it hears twigs snapping. After he left, I looked at her again…now there’s a tall gentleman, thick head of dark hair and full beard, in a tuxedo, talking quietly to her, both of them looking directly at us. He walks away from her, walks over to paul and I, leans in and quietly says; “I think we’ll be able to accommodate you this evening, please, follow me.” Paul and I give each other the “you’re damn right” look, and follow him. (now here's the thing; all that hostess had to do was tell us they had a dress code and we were in violation, but, she did'nt...that, combined with the fact that they eventually let us in tells me it was'nt a dress code thing...it was that "other" code...*wink wink*) He leads us to the bar/lounge in a room adjacent to the dining area, walks passed the bar, and goes to a section that’s cordoned off with velvet ropes, lifts the ropes and seats us. He asks us what we want to drink, then goes behind the bar and has the bartender make our drinks, then brings them back to us himself. Then he tells us; “my name is gabriel, I am the maitre d’, give me 20 minutes and I will have a table for you.” We thank him, and he’s off. We sit back and enjoy our drinks, very impressed with ourselves. We finish our drinks, and I volunteer to go to the bar and get fresh ones. Morton’s bar/lounge is obviously a hot spot, because the place is packed, and the bar was at least 3 people deep. I begin wriggling my way closer to the bar so I can order, and in doing so, I brush against a little, old, joan-rivers-looking lady, decked out in her fanciest going-out ensemble. And when I say I brushed her, that’s all I did, I didn’t bump her or jostle her in any way. Well, her head snaps around, she gives me the quick up & down, then recoils in disgust with a frown and lets out an extremely dramatic huff, like one of those hoity-toity old cows in a 3 stooges short. it was SO over the top and cartoonish, I actually laughed at her, I could’nt even be mad. I got our drinks and went back to our vip section. Gabriel walks by, looks down and sees the fresh drinks and asks where we got them. When I told him I went to the bar, he gently admonished me; “if you need anything, you come to me, I will get it for you.” We assured him such hand & foot treatment was not necessary, but he insisted. True to his word, only 15 minutes had gone by when he came to get us and took us to a booth. I was genuinely amused as he lead us through the dining area…everyone looked up as we came in, and their reactions broke down into 2 camps; the ones who smiled with recognition, and the ones who gave us looks like the old lady at the bar. We sat in our booth, ordered steaks, laughed & talked, and had a grand ol’ time. Gabriel became our new best friend, we even made him sit and talk with us. We went to morton’s at least 3 or 4 more times over the next couple years, and we always asked for our boy gabriel when we got to the door. Not for the celebrity treatment, but because he turned out to be a genuinely cool dude. (then again, guys say that about strippers; "i think she really likes me"...everybody's your bff when you're tipping)

You Never Know Who You're F'ing With...

original post @ http://scottmartinbrooks.blogspot.com

...whenever we used to make high profile appearances in major cities, we were always joined by the budweiser exec in charge of our campaign, walter allen, and sometimes one or two others. and whenever the bud execs accompanied us to an event, that night they would always take us to dinner at the finest steakhouse restaurant in town. on this particular occasion, we were in indainapolis for the final four. (sidenote; those people REALLY take their college basketball seriously...wow...) so, after the day's festivities, we all get together for dinner. joining us for dinner this evening, as he'd done on a couple of occasions, is espn commentator stuart scott (who is a VERY cool dude, by the way). i don't remember the name of the joint, but, we were seated in one of the semi-private dining areas in the back. at some point during dinner, a fellow and a young boy walk up to the table, obviously a father & son...the dad looked to be in his mid 30's or so, the boy was no more than 10. i was sitting at the end of the table, so, the dad approaches me and says...that one phrase i heard SO often it began to lose all meaning and eventually just seemed ridiculous; "i really hate to bother you, but..." before he can even finish, i SLAM my hand on the table so hard all of the tableware jingles, and i shout; "DAMNNIT! DON'T YOU SEE I'M EATING MY DINNER???!!!" with an exasperated look on face, but not looking directly at them, my head was just turned toward them. they both jump, startled, and the dad immediately apologizes and turns to walk away, clutching his son by the shoulders. i reach out and grab his arm and tell him; "i'm just messin' with you!", with a big smile on my face. (what made it even funnier was; everybody at my table looked up, kinda smiled, but then, went right back to their conversations, because they kinda knew i was messin' with the dude) he lets out a sigh of relief and says; "i thought you were serious, and you're pretty big, i did'nt wanna get my butt kicked!" he tells me that his son is our biggest fan, then tells his son; "go ahead, ask him." the boy was SO CUTE...he was very nervous, gulping and taking deep breaths as he tried to get out his story. his dad helped him out, and explained how the kid held his cell phone up to the TV and recorded our commercial as his outgoing message (yeah, the 10 year old had a cell phone). the boy asked if we would do an actual personal message for his voicemail. i said; "absolutely!" he got one of those grins on his face where he was trying not to grin, know what i mean? he even gave me some direction on how he wanted us to say it, but innocently, humbly, not bratty or presumptuous in the least. as he dialed his voicemail, i turned to the guys and told them to huddle up so we could do a msg. for the kid, to which they happily obliged, as they always did. so, we made him a personalized message for his voicemail, just the way he wanted it, and you could see that he was so stoked he was about to burst. his dad had one of those looks on his face, you could tell he was really happy for his son. the dad said to me; "he is going to be the hero at his school on monday. thank you so much!" i gave him the "oh, pshaw", we shook hands, i said goodbye to junior, and they went back to their table.

...well, it's later, and the meal's over. the guys are having cigars & brandy, i'm eating desert, so, walter asks for the check. the waiter informs him that dinner has been paid for. we all look up with a "huh?" look on our faces. there were 5 of us, it was a 5 star restaurant, and we ate A LOT. (if i remember correctly, it was well over $700) just a little incredulous, and a teeny bit suspicious, walter wants to know who it was that paid. the waiter, for some reason, was reluctant to tell him. walter insisted; "i'm not going to say anything to him, i would just like to know...maybe i'll buy him a bottle of wine or something." the waiter says; "oh, you don't need to do that, this guy can afford it, trust me." undaunted, walter again insists, he wants to know who paid our check, he wants to meet the person and thank them. the waiter, still reluctant, obliges walter's insistence, and walks away...then comes back a minute later with our generous benefactor, who was walking behind the waiter with an embarrassed smile on his face. yup...it was the dad from earlier. we see it's him and we all erupt with a spontaneous; "OOOOH!!! IT'S YOU!!!" he said he did'nt want to make a big deal out of it or anything, he just really appreciated what we did for his son and wanted to return the favor. walter said to him; "dude, that's too much...you have to let me give you something for it..." i said; "yeah, we don't get paid THAT much just do a whassup!" the guy was extremely gracious, refused all of walter's offers, kindly said his goodbyes and excused himself back to his table. we were all stunned. walter asked our waiter; "so, who is he that he's got money like that?" the waiter tells us; "have you guys seen the signs all over town for the big construction company? when you were at the game today, did you see their name all over the stadium? well, that's his family." and i said; "see...you never know who you're f*ckin' with." ...hence the title of this story.

*bonus story: speaking of which... for the superbowl in tampa fl., budweiser had a huge tent set up in the tailgate area, with all kinds of budweiser stuff to do & see. and since we could'nt do any promoting at the game/stadium (because some other major brand had the rights on lockdown), they just had us mingling in the tent before the game. at some point, we took a lunch break (i remember we had'nt eaten and were starving). i had just started coming down with the flu, so i was feeling pretty crappy. i got my plate, found a solitary spot somewhere in a corner, with my back to all the festivities, and sat down to enjoy my lunch in peace. a few bites into my chicken, i feel that ol' familiar tap on my shoulder. i turn and see a dude, with a piece of paper and a sharpie. he says; "i don't mean to bother you, but..." i interrupt him and say, in a very brusk, smartass tone; "yes you do...you totally mean to bother me." the guy paused, thought about it for a couple seconds, then, very matter-of-factly said; "you're right...i do", and held out his paper & sharpie. we both laughed. "at least you're honest!" i said, and happily signed his autograph. he did'nt turn out to be anybody rich or famous, i just thought he was funny.