Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me - Chelsea's Family, Friends [71]
She was now searching through her underwear drawer while holding her vagina, looking for a fresh pair to replace the ones she had clearly soiled.
“Chelsea, are we really going to have him say that?”
“No! Amy! No, we aren’t doing any of this,” she said, rolling around on the floor with her legs in the air. “Do you think the network would ever let us dress him as a bloody Jesus and yell, ‘Fuck the…’ ” She couldn’t get it out. Her laughter had turned silent; she wasn’t making a noise, but her shoulders were shaking. “I have to say,” she managed to get out after a few moments, “you did an amazing job on that outfit.” Then she stood up, with fresh panties in hand, wiped the tears from her face, and headed to the bathroom. “He looks amazing. But, seriously, take it off. We have a show to do.”
Let me clarify. I’m not stupid, but Handy gets me time and time again. In exchange for my hard work, Chelsea had allowed me to swaddle Chuy and place him in a manger. Later that day, she left an envelope with a thousand dollars in cash on my desk, with a note that said, “I appreciate your dedication to your craft, even though you’re very stupid.”
Chelsea and me lying in bed in New York City the day Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang came out.
THINGS THAT I WISH WERE LIES
As her stylist, I see Chelsea naked on a regular basis. That’s pretty intimate, so I try to maintain a professional atmosphere during fittings. “What-the-fuck-ever” is usually what I’m met with.
While getting her dressed—which, I might add is my job—all of the following things have happened to me. (Please keep in mind that I was working during these experiences.)
She smacked me in the face with her tits.
Burping in my face? Done.
Once, while standing in front of the mirror butt-ass naked, she said, “Hey, Amy, look at this piece of leftover toilet paper.” I had already turned my head and looked at what she was pointing at before I realized what she was saying.
When I first started working with her, I wore dresses and skirts all the time. Because she likes to expose her staff’s genitalia, I now wear underwear and pants.
I was introduced as her big lesbian stylist in person and on national television.
Peeing in front of me? Those were the days.
She has trimmed her fifteen pubic hairs in my presence. At this point in our relationship, I think some mystery could be a good thing.
One of the perks of my fabulous and fun job is that I get to travel with Chelsea. My responsibilities on the road are a cross between those of butler and camp counselor. I pack her, unpack her, lay out her clothes, and make sure the group gets where we are going on time and that no one is left behind when we are drunk. The upside to catering to Chelsea’s every need is that I get to travel all over the world with my friends while laughing my ass off. And we always get to stay at fabulous hotels. The downside is the following:
Every night before bed, Chelsea orders a movie. Sometimes the films she chooses are great. Usually they are not. She inevitably falls asleep within the first fifteen minutes of the flick. Sometimes I do, too. Which is why we have watched Eat Pray Love three times. We have yet to experience “Love.” Sometimes the shitty movies get me hooked and I can’t fall asleep until Tom Cruise has saved someone.
Like Chelsea, I am a Pisces, which makes for a sensitive and empathetic person. I can’t watch movies in which people have fucked-up lives or have fucked up their lives. I can’t watch scary or traumatic movies, either. After one Saturday night of partying, Chelsea made Johnny Kansas and me get into bed with her and we ordered Precious. We both protested her choice. She insisted there were some very funny scenes with Mariah Carey, and that the movie was actually a dark comedy. We gave in. Handy fell asleep within minutes, while Johnny and I both had nightmares for weeks.
Chelsea loves to say really inappropriate things to people. She does this with a smile on her face and in a very sweet voice that is low enough to hear but that makes you think