Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me - Chelsea's Family, Friends [60]
On the bus ride home she said, “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it, Bertha?”
Chelsea at the luau. She was twenty-one in this photo but looks forty-five. She does really look like a lesbian in those pants.
But I wasn’t ready to give up on my vacation yet. I still wanted to hit Hanauma Bay, a supposed prime snorkeling spot. When we got there I noticed that almost everyone on the beach was Japanese and armed with a snorkel and a camera. People were staring at us and taking photos, and then they started coming toward us one by one, asking if Chelsea would be in a picture with them. This was long before Chelsea was on TV or had written a book, so naturally I was confused by the attention they were giving her.
“What the fuck?” Chelsea said.
“Don’t you see, Chelsea? They think you’re Pamela Anderson. You’re blonde and you’re wearing a red bathing suit. They love Baywatch in Japan.”
The situation was completely ridiculous, and Chelsea really got a kick out of it. She decided to go with the flow, as people started shoving me out of the way to get close to her. Chelsea was really getting into it, posing for photos and actually signing Pam Anderson autographs for people. Most of them just spoke Japanese, but one lady said she worked for a newspaper and wanted to know if “Pam” would answer a few questions.
“Sure, why not?” Chelsea said with a smile.
“What are you doing here in Oahu, Pam?” the lady asked.
“Well, actually I am here doing some research for Baywatch. We were thinking about doing a Christmas special in Hawaii on a great beach like this. I am here with my assistant to see if this really will fit with our idea for the show. Unfortunately, we have to get back in a couple of days to finish this season’s finale. No more questions, please, I feel a bit tired. Thank you, thank you.”
“You really are unbelievable, you know that?” I said. “You might get sued for doing what you just did.”
“Oh please, get a grip, Shana!” Chelsea said, laughing. “It was funny, and good practice actually, as I plan to become a great actress one day, so you’d better get used to it.”
The only thing left to make the trip complete was the flight back home, during which I got airsick and unloaded my lunch in my airsickness bag, on my shorts, and on Chelsea’s new skirt.
The bonding vacation didn’t turn out exactly as I had planned, and I was pretty sure Chelsea would not consider traveling with me again anytime soon. I consoled myself with a memory from when I was in the sixth grade and she was in the first. The neighborhood bully decided to target me one day for the factory-reject corduroys my parents had sprung for. Chelsea marched over to this big kid without any hesitation, got right in his face as best she could, being only six and a half years old, and said, “Listen up, fat ass. I have two things to tell you. One, you’d better leave my sister alone or I’m gonna break your dog’s neck, and two, I hope you choke on a Twinkie.”
Whether she felt disdain for me or not, Chelsea always had my back, and a pretty big set of balls—which is true to this day. She still reminds me of what a buzz kill I am, and still has me listed in her phone as “Debbie Downer,” but once Chelsea started making money, she became much easier for me to get along with. After that luau, she has never stopped kissing me hard on the lips, and always in inappropriate situations. The only thing that’s changed is that I’ve stopped fighting it.
My sister Shana still has room for improvement. She is constantly tired and constantly asking extremely annoying questions. I like her more now than I did when we were younger, and I definitely love her more now than I did when I was younger. We talk all the time and vacation together all the time, but I’d be lying if I said we’d be friends if she weren’t my sister. We would not.
—Chelsea
Shana giving it to me from behind in Atlantic City.
Chapter Nine
Eva Is My Name, Comedy Is My Game
EVA MAGDALENSKI