Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me Read online

  The revelation of Chelsea’s genius IQ completely changed the dynamic of their relationship. Ted is a very smart and capable man—he was the CEO of our company at the time—and had the wherewithal to bag Chelsea Handler, but make no mistake about it: Ted is not a genius. From that moment on, there was no denying that she now had the upper hand in the relationship. (Technically, this would make Ted the “bottom.”) If they ever argued over the show or even about restaurant choices, all she had to say was “I’m sorry, which one of us is the genius?”

  Chelsea Handler is a sharp cookie and has a beautifully bizarre brain. She may also be many things, but she is not a genius.

  To be honest, I have no idea how many times Chelsea has lied to me. Most likely it’s already occurred at least twice this morning.

  During our first season on air, she and our executive producer, Tom, told me that we were going to hang Chuy on the cross for the Christmas episode. The art department was building a cross, and I had one day to pull together a Jesus costume. Tom and Chelsea let me know it was really important to make the costume look authentic. If we were going to piss off the Christians, it had to be done right.

  “No problem,” I assured them. I already had the muslin cloth to make Chuy’s loincloth. Warner Bros.’ costume department had the rope sandals we needed for Chuy’s nugget feet. All I had to do was make a crown of thorns. “Oh and how bloody do you want to make him?” I asked.

  “Amy, the man was nailed to a cross,” Chelsea told me. “It wasn’t a pretty situation. But this is Christmas, so find a happy middle ground.”

  The next day Chelsea was in her makeup chair when I paraded Jesus Chuy in for her approval. If you can make Chelsea laugh, it’s a pretty good feeling, even if you don’t realize that she’s laughing at you.

  “Oh, my God, Amy, get Tom down here!” she howled, holding her vagina as she’s known to do when she’s comedically aroused. Seconds later, Tom appeared in Chelsea’s office and fell into hysterics. I felt amazing. Then Chelsea instructed Chuy to practice the line “Fuck the Jews!”

  “Fuck the Yews,” Chuy exclaimed. “Fuck the Yews!”

  I was horrified. “We are not going to have him say, ‘Fuck the Jews,’ Chelsea, are we?”

  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 you may have heard wrong. This practice of hers never fails to mortify me. It makes me extremely uncomfortable. Here are some real-life examples:

  An African American bellhop walked into our hotel room to collect our bags. Chelsea walked out of the bathroom and smiled at him. He smiled back and said, “Good morning, Miss Handler. I hope you’re enjoying your stay with us.” She replied, “Yes, I am. Thank you.” As he turned his back to place our bags on the luggage cart, she said in a sweet, soft voice intended only for my ears, “Wanna show me your big black cock?” Halfway through the word cock, I exclaimed in a loud and authoritative voice, “And these bags need to go, too, sir. What a beautiful day it is here in sunny Baltimore!” I did not shut up until he’d walked out the door with a fifty-dollar tip.

  After MTV’s Video Music Awards, Chelsea took Gina (hair and makeup), all the writers, and me to Cabo to thank us for doing both the VMA and Chelsea Lately simultaneously. Chelsea wanted all of us to really relax, so she had her assistant set up a day at the spa for us. What a sweet boss. We get to the spa, check in, and our host takes us girls to the women’s locker room for a tour. Obviously Spanish was this woman’s first language, but she was speaking English, so I assumed she could understand it. As she was showing us the showers, Chelsea smiled and sweetly said, “Thanks. Do you take it up the tushie? My girlfriend here loves it in the anal cavity.” Our host showed us the steam room, and Chelsea responded with “Great. I’ll bet you have a very hairy pussy.” Next we were shown where to place our robes and dirty towels. Chelsea asked, “Wanna show me your pretty pussy?” The woman smiled through all of this, but I swear she was looking at us like we were nuts. Needless to say, I separated from the group as fast as possible. All of us are horrified when Chelsea does stuff like this, but the amazing thing is no one e