Official Book Club Selection (17 page)

Gotcha! You thought perhaps this book had gone to press before my magical return to Dave’s show in the summer of 2009? Well, here’s the deal. I may pride myself on the street cred that comes with getting banned from so many shows and pissing people off. But look, when these shows call me to dangle a reappearance carrot—and you know me, I hate vegetables—no matter how D-list, I’m more than happy to eat shit (my term for vegetables) and grovel back on my hands and knees. So you can imagine my thrill and surprise when after twelve years of being banned from The Late Show with David Letterman, on Monday, June 8, 2009—after season five of My Life on the D-List debuted to its highest ratings ever—I got a call in my hotel room in New York asking if I would do the show that Wednesday as one of their guests had dropped out at the last minute.

It was a dream come true. Dave was in the middle of his Sarah Palin joke scandal, where the Alaska governor felt he’d made inappropriate remarks about her daughter, so it was heaven for me to be there that day and feel a special shitstorm kinship with him. I remembered not to curse, too. I never said “cunt” or referenced anal leakage, or invited any deities to suck it, and at the end of the interview Dave gave me the Letterman hand kiss! I don’t know if I’m back in for good, but as life on the D-list goes, I was back in for a day.

I don’t feel as good about the situation with Regis Philbin’s morning show, though. Back when Kathie Lee Gifford was co-host, I had been a guest on the show. All had gone well, and they even asked me if I wanted to guest host for a couple days while Kathie Lee was away. Suddenly Susan and being on the road was really knocking me out, so I remember balking at the fact that they weren’t going to pay anything. But the folks at Warner Bros. said “No, no, this is a good thing. You should do this with Regis.” So I agreed. They gave me Kathie Lee’s dressing room while she was gone, which I thought was strange. I mean, I wouldn’t want my dressing room being handed out to anyone else in my absence. So there I was surrounded by all the Kathie Lee-ness, the shoes and the wacky neon lime green suits and a few Bibles.

Well, it was pretty fun. I love Regis. He’s an absolute gem. You won’t find a guy who’s funnier, more low maintenance, and easygoing. I ended up speaking gay (I’m bilingual) to his executive producer, Michael Gelman, until I met his female fiancée, so that was awkward. But Gelman and the fiancée came to see me at Caroline’s, which I thought was cool. So on one of my guest-host days I made a joke on air that Gelman was Regis’s bitch. Regis laughed. The audience laughed. You know the rest. I was never asked on again. To this day. For a while I entertained the thought that it was maybe coming from Kathie Lee. But after Kelly Ripa came on, still no booking.

It was Joy Behar who nailed the episode. She asked me in the makeup room at The View once, “Did you ever get asked back to Regis after you said Gelman was Regis’s bitch?”

“No, but I don’t think it’s a problem,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be on again!”

“Really?” she answered, with one eyebrow raised. Hmmm.

One time I ran into Regis at Carson Daly’s talk show, and we had a great conversation. He was being so nice, saying, “KATH-y GRIFFIN! You’re on FYE-UH! You’re on FYE-UH!”

I told him how glad I was that things were going so well for him, and that nobody deserved it more than he did, because he’d worked so hard. Then I brought it back to me. “Rege, I feel bad about my ban for life from Gelman. Really? Gelman’s the all-powerful?”

“Well, you know, he holds grudges,” he said.

Then Regis suggested I make a surprise appearance the next time I was planning on being in New York. Just walk out onto the set during the show—“Don’t even plan it! Be a surprise guest!”

It was sweet that he thought I was A-list enough to pull off a stunt like that. But I’m no Don Rickles and this wasn’t The Tonight Show. I doubt I’d make it past security. And if I did, I told him, “Then I’m just Sean Young trying to get the role of Catwoman.” Meow.

If you’re wondering whether I watch a show that I’ve been banned from, I do. Why wouldn’t I?

Here’s the lowdown on banning: it’s not like anybody makes a declaration outright that you’ve been banned. You find out by not getting booked on the show anymore. The reasoning can sometimes be elusive. I appeared on Late Night with Conan O’Brien a few times during Suddenly Susan and then I went ten years, ten years—until early in 2009—before being asked back. Even though Conan and I go way back.

When I was in the Groundlings, one of the girls there said to me one day, “Hey, there’s this guy named Conan who writes for The Simpsons, and I think you should go out with him. He’s really funny and smart.” He was taking classes at the time, and I was actually in the main company, so I’d be “marrying down,” as the phrase goes, but I figured, why not? We met, but he didn’t ask me out. So I came up with a scheme to get him to date me. I suggested we go for a pizza and write a sketch together. He said yes. I really thought I could turn this writing session into a legitimate date.

We went to this old-school place on Fairfax called Damiano’s, ordered a pizza, and though I was being all flirty, I think we actually did write a sketch. At the end of the night, the check came, and we split it. Well, that’s a bad sign, I thought. I don’t think it’s a date when the guy says, “Okay, you had two diet Cokes, so it’s an extra dollar for you.” Ouch.

Conan and I were both attending the wedding a couple of weeks later of a mutual friend who was also an old boyfriend. More date potential. So I said to him that night, “I can’t bear to go to that wedding without a date. Will you go with me? I’m not saying this has to be some boyfriend/girlfriend situation,” I said, clearly trying to manipulate him into thinking of it as a romantic and sexual date. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure.”

Well, he called me the day of the wedding and basically stood me up, telling me he was sick. I was humiliated and went to the wedding by myself, and wouldn’t you know it, at the end of the reception, in walks Conan. “Hi, feeling better?” I said to him. I think he thought he could wait me out. But of course, I’m the last to leave any party, so I was there for his secret appearance.

Clearly we were never going to be a Groundling power couple, of which we would have been the first. But I was starting to see Conan fairly regularly in that Dave Rath pizza party crowd, or he’d be one of twenty when we were all going to dinner somewhere, becoming somewhat of a fixture in my comedy orbit. When he got his talk show, I remember calling him and congratulating him, thinking he really deserved that break, because he was often the funniest guy in the room. I thought it was really cool that this hysterically witty “kid” whom people didn’t know was about to be introduced to the whole country on a big national stage.

From my return to Conan O’Brien’s late-night show before he moved to the Tonight Show spot in the summer of 2009 (Photo: Dana Edelson/Bravo/NBCU Photo Bank)

So I went on Late Night with Conan O’Brien those few times during the Suddenly Susan years—we’d chat during the commercial breaks (“Have you seen Janeane lately?” he’d ask, “How do you like living in New York?” I’d ask) and nothing seemed awkward between us—and then all of a sudden I wasn’t asked back. Specials coming and going, no Conan. Emmy win, no Conan. Second Emmy win, no Conan.

Since he’d had me on the show initially, my guess is when he was a newcomer, NBC probably said, “You’re going to have her on.” But when Suddenly Susan ended, at which point Conan had come into his own, he had bigger sway with who made the cut. So I spent ten years thinking, He can’t stand me, and I guess that’s the way it’s going to be.

Then in late 2008 we ran into each other in the hallway of the ill-fated-but-fun-to-be-at Rosie O’Donnell variety special Rosie Live. It was right before the show, and for some reason he was completely nice to me. Well, he did just have a pie thrown in his face onstage. Maybe there’s something about being covered in whipped cream and standing in the hallway of a sweaty off-Broadway theater that just makes you happy to see an old friend.

It was after this exchange that I went on Late Night in February 2009 for the first time in ten years, just in time for Conan to close out that show and get ready to segue into The Tonight Show in LA. We had a good conversation on his show, and it felt great to be back. It was really easy-breezy and he laughed at my jokes, and overall it was really fun. (Note to Oprah: When a comedian is on your show and makes a joke, you might want to laugh at them instead of giving a death stare. Jokes are their job. Just like your job is to be omnipotent.) He didn’t bring up my long absence from his late-night show, or any possible ill feelings. Probably because he doesn’t even remember what they might have been. I certainly didn’t bring it up. We talked about old friends, and it was wonderful. I just hate having a frost with anyone from that era, because it was such a good time, and I’m so glad he’s doing well.

Then he said, “Well, when I go to LA, you’ve got to do the show.” I was so thrilled! But I think I’m going to make him attend at least one wedding with me first.

A few of the guy hosts, like Craig Kilborn when he had The Daily Show and his own late-night talk show on CBS, have always been in my camp, and one in particular you wouldn’t necessarily think of has definitely supported me. Howard Stern. Total mensch. People had warned me about going on Stern. “Don’t do it, he’ll eat you alive.” And from the first time I went on Howard, during the Suddenly Susan years, before he was on Sirius satellite, we had the funnest conversations during those twenty-minute-long commercial breaks. He showed a softer and gentler side that his listeners don’t get to see much of.

On air, however, he absolutely gave me and continues to give me shit. And the call-ins are brutal.

“You horrible old hag/cunt/bitch. Nobody would ever fuck you in a million years. You are awful, you should die now,” someone will say. You can’t show weakness on Howard; you just have to wait for it to be over and hope the next caller is a gay guy saying, “We love you, diva.”

And Howard, being the expert ringleader that he is, plays along. “Now come on, cut that out,” he’ll say, but lets the call go on, of course. But you know that’s the gig going in. During my divorce, I would have a conversation with him during the commercial break where he’d compassionately ask, “How are you doing?” But when we were back on the air, it’s “What’d that guy do, steal all your money?”

I really respect Howard, and think he’s genuinely comedian-funny, not just witty. There’s a thing he does that’s very smart with women in my category, meaning those of us who remain fully dressed while on air. He’ll strike a nice balance between giving us complete shit and then adding, “You’re hot. I think you’re totally hot. I’d totally bang ya.” First of all, it’s a treat, because it never happens. And for his audience, it’s a stamp of approval. I know it sounds weird, and it requires an adjustment in recognizing what, exactly, a compliment is, but the funny thing about going on Howard is, when you’re me, the nicest thing he can do is say, “I want to bend you over and buttfuck you cause you’re so hot.” Oh Howard, you softie.

What I learned early on from doing that show is, the way to survive is full disclosure. If you go on Howard’s show and try to be coy or not answer, he’s going to have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. During my first appearance on Howard, I was having a little fling with one of the guys from ’NSYNC, which, yeah, is really sleazy because I was way too old for him. (I told him I was twenty-seven and my real age hadn’t had a two in front of it for nearly a decade.) And when I say fling, by the way, I think I made out with this ’NSYNC-er twice. (Hope you’re sitting down, Oprah. It was NOT golden-haired hottie Lance Bass. I know, I know, the sexual chemistry between him and me can be electric, but he must have been reading your favorite book The Secret, because I think he had one!) Anyway, I talked about it on Howard—I thought it was funny, he thought it was funny—and he wanted to know every single detail. So I told him. If I had gone on and said, “I made out with someone from ’NSYNC!” and then said, “I’m not telling you any more, Howard!” that would have been disastrous. So I had to go, “Okay, he touched my boob over here, and I was wearing this.” When Howard says, “What do you want to do with him?” it means you say, “Well, I want to do missionary, and I want to do doggie-style, and …” It’s all about how explicit you can be. And in return, he always plugged the hell out of my shows.

The environment at Howard’s studio was heaven for me, too. His green room was a show in itself. And it made for instant material when I’d have to go play Caroline’s that night. One time when I was there, I was sharing the room with a couple of Scores girls (Scores being an infamous New York strip club), who were on the show to do one of Howard’s crazy games involving strippers. I’m wearing jeans and a sweater and heels, and they’re in silver lamé bikinis with tassels covering their fake tits. One girl said, “I think I’m gonna win cause I’m mohonia.”

I’m thinking, What? Is that an affliction?

Then it hit me. She’s more hornier. I didn’t know what game they were about to play, but I should have gotten some prize for deciphering their code.

I loved Howard’s whole gang, too. Howard really defers to Robin, and he truly feels he can’t do the show without her. I think she’s wonderful, too, and I adore them as a pair. I have a total crush on Fred, and Baba Booey enjoys the celebrity dish as much as I do. The first time I did the show with Artie Lange, I really thought he was gonna go after me. The guys’ guy comics don’t always dig me, because let’s face it, a lot of people, and especially boy comedians, don’t think chicks are as funny, and can only think of women in terms of whether they’d want to fuck them or not. I totally expected the “Ugh, she’s ugly, who’d want to go near that” treatment. But I’ll never forget how nice Artie was to me. From day one. He was quiet during my interview, and then afterward said I was really funny. Strange as it sounds, I really felt respected and welcomed by the whole Howard crew.

Plus, Howard single-handedly broadened my demographic. The first time I did his show, I walked down the street ten minutes later and every cop and construction worker said hi to me. Basically, every straight guy. I can perform for 7,000 people, and all that the straight guys there know me from is Seinfeld and Howard Stern. They don’t know the stand-up specials, they don’t know D-List or Suddenly Susan. And overseas, when I performed for the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, all those guys were saying, “Oh, you’re the girl from Howard!” To which I say, “Thank God.”