We couldn't make it to the premiere of Avatar in L.A. last night, because it's far. Fictional freelancer Betsey Morgenstern cashed in her frequent flier miles and made the trip for us. Here is her report.
I Still Don't Know What an Avatar Is
by Betsey Morgenstern
Everyone in America—or at least every media outlet owned by Rupert Murdoch—is talking about Avatar, the first movie James Cameron made since Iceberg. It has something to do with blue aliens and looks sort of like watching a Smurfs marathon while on acid. All of the L.A. celebrities were out on the red carpet where I managed to station myself for a few hours and talk to all the luminaries who tried to make it out of this world and in Cameron's. Here is my sci-fi adventure.
After getting to my publicist-assigned spot on the red—or in this case blue—carpet, I was approached by a rather rotund man that looked a bit like a hedgehog on his way to a court date.
"Hey, I'm Jon. What's your name?"
"Uh, I'm Betsey. Are you in the movie."
"No, I produced it. I have tons of money. You wanna be my date to the after party? I'll introduce you to all the stars."
"Thanks, Jon, but I'm all set."
"You sure?" he asked while leaning in close and slipping his hand down my back to my admittedly bodacious derriere. "I got a huge cock," he whispered, and then brought his body away, giving me a look that said, "Really. I'm not lying."
Just as I as about to respond, Zoe Saldana walked up. "Hey, Jon. Thanks so much for last night. I had a really great time. You're not really my normal type but, wow!"
He gave me a look that said, "See" and gave her a funny little hug. Zoe saw me staring and looked at me with a crumpled little face.
"Who are you?" she asked looking me up and down.
"Oh, I'm a reporter, I"m just asking some questions..."
"Don't ask him anything. This one is mine. If I see you talking to him again, I'll fucking slice your fucking boob off and then I'll fucking call every fucking publicist in this fucking town and tell them that you never fucking get another fucking assignment every fucking again. Am I fucking clear?"
"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure. Sorry."
Feeling bad for me, Jon piped up. "Come on, Zoe. Let's leave the poor thing alone. What you doing later?" As he walked away he turned back and gave me the thumb and pinky to the ear signal and mouthed, "Call me."
Luckily Jamie Lee Curtis came by to make me feel a little bit better. I don't think she's in this movie, but I wanted to ask her some questions. I've got a bone to pick with Miss Curtis.
"Hey Jamie, what did you do to your face?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're looking a little brown there, especially next to your white hair."
"Oh, I was just on vacation with my family in Hawaii and..."
"Are you sure it's not poop?"
"You know, poop. Because I ate a six pack of that Activia stuff you're always hawking and it made me shit myself while waiting in line to get inside the Boom Boom Room for Jesus Luz's DJ debut."
"That's why they call it the Boom Boom Room," she said giving me a little sneer, "Cause you made a boom boom." Her kids thought that was just hysterical.
"What are you laughing about?" I yelled. "At least my mom isn't a tranny."
"No," Jamie Lee said. "You're something else. You're a stupid bitch who can't even hold it until she gets to the toilet."
"Oh my god, I can't believe you just said that!"
"Well, here's a free coupon for Activia, I hope that makes up for it. And next time, maybe eat something a little bit more solid, like some Raisinettes or something."
Speaking of Raisinettes, here comes Audrina Patridge from The Hills. God, I love that show. But where is Justin Bobby?
"Audrina, where's Justin Bobby?"
"He's not here. We broke up?"
"Oh, I saw that on the show, but, you know none of that is real, so I figured you were still together."
"Well, where is he?"
"At home? I don't know? Maybe out with friends?"
"Will you call him up or text him? I always thought he was cute and want to hang out with him."
"Uh, no. I'm sorry, I can't do that."
"Will you tell me how big his dick is?"
"No, I...I gotta go."
"Wait, Audrina! Who are you wearing?"
Look it's the Jonas Brothers! "Aren't one of you guys getting married this weekend?"
"Girl, look at us, we're like 13. We ain't getting married," the smallest one said.
"Well, I love your records, can you sign something for my niece?"
"Records? Who do you think we are?" the middle one asked.
"The Jonas Brothers. Duh."
"Jesus. You are one crazy white lady."
Going to the premiere, I knew that I would run into Sam Worthington, the hunky star of the movie who I once had a run-in with during my junior year abroad in Sydney. Sam was working as a bartender and I was on an assignment to find the best appletini for the school newspaper. I totally wrote a Sex and the City column for the Sydney University Egret.
I get into the bar and Sam is working, and he made me a few drinks and we made some small talk. It wasn't very crowded, so he asked me if I wanted to "see the stock room." I said, "Sure, but only for research," knowing that he wanted a little something more. We get in the back and start making out really heavily. The floor was all sticky with dry booze and whatnot and I didn't want to pull my pants down because they would get all gross. I had a patented move in mind.
I undid his belt and pulled down his jeans and boxer briefs and jerked him off with one hand. I spit on the and jammed two fingers up his ass. He got up on his tippy toes and made this "OOOH," sound and then scrunched up his face. He finished right then, and left a mess on my pants that was probably nastier than if they fell to the floor. You live and learn.
"What was that?" he asked when I was done.
"I call it the Australian Alligator."
"Well, that sure has bite, thanks Betty."
"Well, I gotta get back to work. See you around, Betty."
I certainly saw him around: in movies, on TV, posters, ads, Entertainment Weekly articles. He's everywhere.
As I walk up to him, he give me a look that says, "Get the hell away from me."
"Hey, Sam, remember me?"
"Oh, I ah, can't say that I do."
"Sam, who is this?" his date asks him, putting a hand on his chest.
"This is some reporter who I have never met before in my life."
"How are you going to tell me we never met? Don't you remember me in the backroom of that bar in Sydney?"
"You never told me you worked in a bar, Sammy," the obnoxious girl said.
"I, uh, I didn't. You must have me confused with someone else."
"How are you going to tell me you don't remember. I gave you the Australian Alligator."
"Wait," the girl said, "You told me you came up with that name."
"I did, baby. Let's go. This girl must have me confused with someone else."
As they walked away, I couldn't help but wonder, do we have to answer for all our past mistakes, or will they answer to us?
Oh no, I think Zoe Saldana is coming back to give me another fucking piece of her fucking mind.
"Hi there, do you want to ask me some questions?"
"Are you bipolar or something."
"Oh," Zoe chuckled. "That's not the kind of thing I thought you would ask. Usually people ask me about singing."
"Singing, why would I want to ask you about that."
"Because I'm a singer. I won that show The X Factor. It's huge in the U.K."
"Was that before or after Star Trek?"
"I wasn't in? OH! Are you trying to say that I look like Zoe Saldana? Did Simon put you up to this?"
"I thought that guy you are fucking was named Jon? Who is Simon? Who are you?"
"Let me say this into your recorder. 'I'm going to get you for this one, Mr. Cowell.' Play that for him. He'll get a big kick out of it."
Danny DeVito has always been one of my favorites. When I saw him, I was so excited, but why the hell was he carrying a box of Raisinettes?
"Oh, Jamie Lee Curtis gave these to me as a joke," he explained.
"Why is that funny?"
"Well, I told her that Rhea made me eat too much of her stupid Activia and then I shit myself when backstage before Taxi received a TV Land Award. I had to go clean myself up and Tony Danza got to accept the award by himself. He's so tall and handsome and always stealing the spotlight. What an asshole."
"He is an asshole. I dated him once. It ended badly."
"I'm sure it did, kid. Anyway, I told Jamie that story when I ran into her in Hawaii last week and she told me to eat something more solid like Raisinettes. She said she knew I'd be here tonight, so she brought me some as a joke. She's such a cut up."
"Did you say she's such a cunt?"
"Ha, no, I said she's a cut up. But, really, she's both."
Oh no, Zoe is back. Why won't this girl leave me alone. I don't even want to date her nasty big-dicked boyfriend. Wait. Why is she flirting with Michelle Rodriguez. Ew, is she a lesbian?
I asked her why she had beef if she's a lesbian.
"We're not lesbians," Rodriguez yelled back at me. "We're just friends. Who said I'm a lesbian. I'm not a lesbian. Was it Latifah? She's just pissed because of that time I guest starred on Living Single and wouldn't make out with her after we shared some craft services. Now she's always trying to out me, not that I'm a lesbian. I'm not a lesbian. Wow, you're pretty. What's your name?"
"Oh you fucking bitch," Zoe screamed. "You're trying to make fucking people think I'm a fucking lesbian so that you can fucking fuck my fucking boyfriend, Jon. I am going to fuck..."
I ran away, looking for any safe place to hide.
I'm racing down the carpet and who do I see, Tom Arnold. Oh Christ.
He starts screaming after me, "Betsey. Wait! Can we talk? Why won't you respond to my Facebook friend request? Are you still mad about that time in Boca? Come on, Betsey. Talk to me!"
Time to run in the other direction.
"See this bitch, this is the kiss of death. I'm going to fucking fuck you up, you fucking bitch."
Oh no, there's nowhere to hide.
"Sigourney, save me!"
"Oh god, did he try to do that thing to you in his hot tub in Boca too?"
"Yes, how did you..."
"Poor girl, he does that to everyone. I'm so sorry. Can I give you a hug."
"Sure. Thanks. I really needed that. Wow, your arms are really firm."
"Thanks. I work hard to stay in shape. Feel my abs. Just feel them. That's what they call 'a situation,' isn't it."
"Wow, it sure is. How do you get them so tight."
"I found this exercise show on the Health on Demand channel on my cable. It's a belly-dancing workout show called Shimmy."
"Wow, that sounds like fun. Will you show me how it's done."
"Yeah, start with your hands on your head, and just gyrate like this."
"Yeah, wow, you're really getting the hang of this."
"Thanks. This is fun. Sigourney, I like you."
"James, who is that weird girl shaking her hips with Sigourney? James? James?"
"I don't know, hon. Let's keep moving."