My Boring-Ass Life (Revised Edition): The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith (10 page)

I go back downstairs and finish up my intro research. Chay delivers a beer which I slowly nurse while writing my Emcee material.

Around 6:30 p.m., I print up my intros and the reading order Russell and I went over the other night. I head down to Gail’s office and cut the intros into little slips that I then staple together and organize into two piles of pre- and post-intermission.

I head upstairs to an already crowded deck, packed with guests and attendees. I say hi to folks like Will Wilkins (SilverLurker from the board), as well as the man and legend Stan Lee, before being introduced to Barbara Hershey, who I brow-beat into reading a poem later in the evening. Then, I go over the reading order with Russell, who informs me of a few changes. I alter my anal little list to reflect said changes, then go over the change of order with the recently arrived Mark Hamill. I greet Bernard Hill and Peter Coyote before heading back downstairs.

I hit my office, write an intro for Barbara Hershey, print up the new material, shoot down to Gail’s office, rearrange my handy intro packet, then climb back upstairs.

Jason Lee is in the hizzy, so I chit-chat with him for awhile until we’re joined by the very funny Jeff Garlin. It’s almost showtime, so I head back to my room and practice my intro a bit in the bathroom mirror while sucking down another beer, trying to commit at least the opening remarks to memory. For some reason, I’m more nervous than I usually am to get up in front of this no-bigger-than-100-person crowd — probably because it’s not a stacked-deck like it usually is when I get in front of an audience. These folks aren’t a bunch of college kids who like my stuff; they’re parents of kids in the school and various supporters of the fundraiser. But I’m safe; I mean, I’m in my own house. If everything goes wrong, it won’t be a far walk to my bed, where I can cry myself to sleep at the end of the night. With that confidence inducing thought in mind, I head upstairs to start the show.

The show goes incredibly well. We’ve got a packed house, and all the readers do an excellent job. The order went like this:

1. JK SIMMONS
   
2. PETER COYOTE
   
3. STAN LEE
   
4. MARK HAMILL
   
5. BARBARA HERSHEY
   
6. PATRICIA VELASQUEZ
   
7. JEFF GARLIN
   Break.
   
8. ANJELICA HUSTON
   
9. HARRYETTE MULLEN
   
10. BERNARD HILL
    
11. RAVI KAPOOR
    
12. IAN McSHANE
    
13. JENNIFER COOLIDGE
    

As the night progressed, beers progressed down my gullet. For the first time in my life (and probably the last), I’m rocking the mic drunk. And to be honest, I was still on point and pretty funny.

The night ends with just me, Jen, Chay, Russell, Daniella, Brian Lynch and his date Carrie, Joey, Zak and John sitting around outside, snacking out of Cookie’s and Catherine’s awesome leftovers. All in all, it was really an awesome night. An event that plagued the fuck out of our lives for the last month went off without a hitch, and better than either of us expected. Already, the school and the parents were calling for it to be an annual event, and I’m right there with ’em. Jen outdid herself.

The Mistress of Ceremonies and I stumble downstairs, too drunk to fuck, and pass out to no TV whatsoever.

Sunday 17 April 2005 @ 11:53 a.m.

Even without the dogs in full effect, I wake up at seven to a hangover forming. I head to the bathroom to down some Advil, drink some water, and climb back into bed. Jen’s in and out of consciousness, chit-chatting with me about the previous night, wanting to cuddle up. Naturally, since it’s morning and the morning wood’s in full effect, any cuddling results with my cock pressing against her cocklessness. Since it’s in the a.m., and she’s still kinda sleeping, I don’t push for any sex. But I do make the rogue’s play of telling the wife I wanna jerk off onto her, regardless. Bless her heart, she says go ahead, and I slip her jammies and panties down and tug one out against her ass, showing amazing restraint in not attempting the slip-in.

I get up and head to the office, where I attempt to purchase some coin for my new UB account with a credit card. The attempt fails. I try again with another credit card. That also fails. I call my credit cards to find out what’s up, and I’m told that it’s MasterCard and Visa policy to not allow the use of the card for online gambling. What kinda crazy shit is that? Mewes gives me Annie Duke’s IM name, and I start hunting her down to purchase chips from her. We’ve sort of met before, via cell phone, when I bought a grand from her to dump into Mewes’s UB account for Christmas. We spend some time chatting in IM, and she hooks me up. And with that, I begin my UB career.

Jen gets up, and we head out to breakfast at the Grand Luxe Café, at the Beverly Center. We stop at Bristol on the way home to pick up some turkey and potatoes for dinner, then spend most of the day doing nothing but laying around, eating, and watching some TiVo. Jen later comments on how surprised she was I didn’t try for the slip-in this morning, as after a few minutes of jerking off with my cock pressed into her asshole, she was sleepily turned on (a foreplay pastime that was all the rage for us a few months back that we’ve since kind of moved on from). I tell her I like having sex with her when she’s having sex back at me — that her presence (both physical and psychological) in the sex act is kinda vital for me. And naturally, this chit-chat leads to some awesome, late-day fucking.

We do family dinner, then I head downstairs and play more Ultimate Bet. Jen puts Harley down on our couch, and we head upstairs to the living room to watch some tube. I download Virtual PC to my laptop and Matt walks me through the installation process again. I follow that with a download of UltimateBet, and I’m soon playing some poker upstairs. Jen heads to bed, and I tell her I’ll follow soon, but I wind up playing poker ‘til two in the morning before finally heading to the room and crashing beside the sleeping Schwalbach.

Monday 18 April 2005 @ 11:28 p.m.

After the late-night
UltimateBet.com
bender, not a mutt in the world can wake me before ten. I shuffle to the bathroom to find Jen, watching old
Murder, She Wrote
s (box set!), smoking, and emailing with Chay. She’s hungry, so I throw on a hat and we’re off to the Griddle.

We sit outside on a blustery LA morning and bump into Carrie, the girl Brian Lynch brought to the Poetry Event. Later, Brian Lynch and Matt Kawczynski roll by for some breakfast and join us. We do an hour on the dancing Odie in the
Garfield
movie and anal (though, y’know — not in the same breath). Brian makes an awesome joke about lasagna at Garfield’s expense, and it keeps me chuckling all day long.

On the way home, Jen stops for a Coffee Bean on Hollywood, across from Grauman’s. I stay in the car, and I’m transfixed by the costumed Superman lurking in front of the theater.

For those who don’t live here, in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre you can find all manner of costumed characters: Elmo, Batman, Darth Vader, Chuckie, Michael Myers, Superman, Spider-Man, etc. Until Edgar Wright schooled me on the subject last week, I was under the mistaken impression that they were hired by the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce. Turns out, if you’ve got a costume that’s remotely suggestive of a film or TV icon, you can chill out on Hollywood Blvd. and pose for pictures with tourists for a small fee. It’s kind of fascinating because it’s democratized the costumed impersonation/tribute artist biz. And utter proof of that is the Superman I’m obsessed with: he’s blond (not brunette), short, his costume’s saggy, he wears red bootlets over red Keds sneakers, and most heinously, he wears glasses. I’m not saying I’d make a better Superman than this guy, but based on the bar he’s setting, I’d come pretty fucking close.

A blond Superman who wears glasses and has the gall to charge folks for pictures. How appropriately Hollywood.

We get home and Mos calls to remind me that we have to deliver the first big chunk of the
Rats
re-edit to Universal Home Video today, so I head down to the office to do a final pass on the stuff Mos and I have put together.

En route, I listen to a message from my brother about a few boxes of signed
Mallrats
books we sent to him that reached the Florida offices completely smudged. He points out that a simple layer of paper towels between the books would go a long way toward preventing this, just as I hit the office.

Phil Benson’s in the editing room with Scott, as is Laura Greenlee (who I haven’t seen in a dog’s age). We chit-chat about the
Clerks 2
move, and giggle over the mind-bendingly out there loooooooooong cut of the T.S./Mr. Svenning pre-pretzel scene, after which I learn that Tracy McGrath (a friend and colleague at Miramax) has been hospitalized with severe pneumonia and is only now being moved from ICU to the Critical list. This prompts a long discussion about how little any of us know about pneumonia before we dig into Laura’s love-life a bit and let her head out. I watch some bloopers we’ve found and edit them a bit to just the really good stuff before I take off for home.

At home, Jen’s waiting for me on the curb, and we load this massive blowup I got from Harvey’s office of Jay and Silent Bob on the bike (that production still which was the most used to promote
Strike Back
). It was one of thirty massive Kodak-made blow-ups of stills from Miramax films that were hanging around the Pacific Design Center for the Miramax Pre-Oscar Party this year, and I’d asked Jessica Rovins if she could score it for me after the party. Harvey’s office sent it out a month ago, but we’re only getting around to having it framed now, so it can be hung in the guest room (aka Mewes’s room).

We head to the valley, drop the six by four piece off at the framer’s, along with that page from
Empire
magazine on which Mewes and I are making pussy-eating faces, with our tongues between our fingers — a piece we’ve decided to hang on family wall in the house.

After the framer’s we pop into Koo-Koo-Roo for some chicken for Harley and head over to her school to pick her up from karate class. We get home, and Harley goes into max-and-relax mode with Jen, while I try to get through some email and posts on the board. An hour later, we play some Disney Yahtzee, after which Jen gives Harley a bath while I clean my office a bit.

We put Harley to sleep on our couch again, while I finish up some IM’ing, then meet Jen upstairs. She’s jonesing to play some poker, so after we move all the furniture back into place (from the Poetry Event), I install Virtual PC into her laptop (thank you, Matt Potter) and download Ultimate Bet. After a brief tutorial snit (I can be impatient sometimes), she settles into some fake money play, and I bug Mewes for some chip transfer so I can play real stakes. Annie Duke pops up on my Buddy List, and I immediately accost her like a crackhead looking for a vial, asking her to dump some more cash into my account. We chitchat for a bit, and then I’m all about the game. There we sit: husband and wife, side-by-side, playing online poker like a pair of junkies (or rather donkeys). Jen turns in around one, but I stay up ‘til four, first building a heady little sum from my buy-in before losing it all as I fall asleep playing. I head downstairs, crawl into bed beside the out-cold Jen, and pass out rather quickly, with no help from the TV.

Tuesday 19 April 2005 @ 11:29 p.m.

I wake up at 9:30 a.m. and find Jen upstairs in the living room. As I tell her about my Ultimate Bet misdeeds of the night before, Gail joins us and we go over this week’s schedule, as well as what the initial Vancouver
Catch
plans are. We do this for a half hour before Jen decides it’s time to eat. We head downstairs and run into a sleep-eyed Mewes, who fills me in on his previous night’s adventure (which includes him hiding behind a stove; don’t ask) while I play a little UB. As Mewes retells his tale to Jen, I double-up on my chips, sign off, and get dressed.

We head to the Griddle for breakfast and run into Lynch, Matt, and Bryan Strang. After we order, Jen spots Joe Reitman entering with who I gather pretty quickly is Annie Duke. I head over to their table to say hi and thank her for the chip loan. I’m delighted with how utterly charming, personable and interesting
she is, as this is the first time I’m talking to Annie in person (even though we did play together in that
Clerks X
/
Jersey Girl
/
Rounders
DVD-release promotional party at The Palms back in September). Joe and I do a post-mortem on his and Shannon Elizabeth’s breakup before Mewes joins us with my food that’s getting cold. Mewes jumps into their booth as well, and I slide back to mine, where Jen and the boys are chit-chatting. Since Mewes owes me some cash and has his checkbook on him, I have him write a check for Annie for the chips she loaned me before Mewes has to head off for his last day on
Bottoms Up
. Joe and Annie join us at our table, and we all sit around talking for an hour and change more (including the idea to make a View Askew skin for Ultimate Bet which we’d link up from our site) before heading our separate ways. It’s the longest Griddle meal I’ve had since that five-hour breakfast I had with Dave Mandel at the Griddle a few months back.

I get home, play some Ultimate Bet for a bit, then say goodbye to Jen as she heads off to pick up Harley from school. Following that, I take a shower, shave, get dressed, and head over the hill to Burbank.

I get to the NBC lot, go through security, and get to the
Tonight Show
. I’m in my guest room about a minute before Leno drops by (he chit-chats with all the guests before the show). I ask him about what he’ll do at the end of the four years — like if he’ll just do more standup. He reminds me that 150 nights out of the year (three nights a week), he’s doing standup somewhere other than the show. The dude’s work ethic is insane. Kristin Powers from Talk/Miramax Books comes by as Jay’s leaving, as does Dave Berg, the segment producer. We go over the stuff I’m gonna be talking about until Andy McElfresh (my
Roadside Attractions
part-ner-in-crime) shows up. Andy and I catch up as the show begins, and then he’s off, back to an editing suite to finish his piece for tomorrow night’s show.