Hollywood Horror Show: Cockblocked by Cartman

This is a series detailing the strange, sometimes traumatic run-ins I've had with celebrities since I moved to LA 11 years ago. The previous installment, featuring crowd-favorite Richard Simmons, can be found here.

I’m less than a couple of weeks into this, and I’m already re-posting my second piece from another blog. I don’t feel as bad about this one -- because it’s more due to being incredibly into what I’m working on right now (a very good thing), and busy with “real” work (not so good) –- but it’s still pretty cheesey.

But I wanted to get something up today, and I’ve got a great post coming tomorrow (an NFL wrap-up, complete with copious bashing of Mike Nolan), so until then I can live with re-posting another great only-in-LA story. This one, however, displays a dark side of celebrity I never really knew existed:

A few years ago, I spent New Years Eve with Matt Stone and Trey Parker, the creators of 'South Park' -- I believe it was 1998/99. My good friend and writing partner at the time, Phil, used to write for the show, and stayed close with the guys, so they invited him to party with them at this club for the night and I tagged along. But not long after I sat down at their reserved table, I was pulled aside by this friend of theirs (I can't remember his name, but I'll call him "Joe"). He introduced himself as a friend of Matt and Trey's from Colorado and asked who I was and what I was doing at their table. I explained that I was Phil's friend, and Joe said that was cool, apologized for the 3rd degree, and explained that because the guys were famous they had to be careful of hangers-on and it was his job to "police the scene".

After that, everything was cool for awhile. We all got pretty hammered, the guys buying lots and lots of drinks and being very funny. I started to talk to this really sexy girl who was there, and although I was quite drunk, I got the feeling she was very interested. We talked and flirted for what must've been over an hour. Everything was going great and I thought I was definitely getting laid that night. Only when I go to the bathroom, my buddy Phil approaches me and tells me Joe asked him to deliver a message: the girl was not interested in me, was getting creeped out by my constant attention, and had asked Joe to get me to leave her alone.

I was completely shocked and embarrassed, but I figured I must've been much more drunk than I thought and was badly misreading her signals. Needless to say, I steered clear of her. But she kept coming back up to me, chatting playfully, obviously flirting. When I was distant, she asked what was wrong like she didn't know. Was this girl screwing with my head? I was really confused. That is, until I saw Trey glaring over at me every time I was anywhere near her. Then I realized that every time the girl wasn't at my side, Trey was all over her, trying to chat her up, buying her shots, etc. Finally, I confronted Phil about it, and he admitted that not only was this Joe guy there to keep hangers-on out of the guys' way, but quite possibly to recruit girls for them, and in my case, keep unwanted competition on the sidelines.

As I've now learned over the years, this is a common practice among male celebs -- having a friend tag along when they go out to act as bodyguard/pimp. Pretty sleazy, but that's Hollywood.

UPDATE: I forgot one interesting detail. Later in the night, the whole group was invited back to Trey's place in the Hollywood Hills, where we continued to party (and where I eventually passed out on the couch). There, Trey produced what I found to be the highlight of the evening -- his Cartman Bong. It had a ceramic statuette of Cartman as its base -- the glass tube springing out from the wool cap on his head, and his arm extending up to form the stem (with the bowl in his hand).