"West Coast F'd!" August 27, 2002
Hello, faithful readers, and welcome to the latest offering of WCJ. It's been an unforgivable amount of time, but I have been so busy getting myself into trouble, I barely had time to complain in real life, let alone in print. But, I am back in full force, and I bring with me an assload of stories! You'll get some now, and you'll just have to wait for the rest until the next issue (already being prepared!)
On the last episode of WCJ, we went over my rigorous daily schedule at The Osbournes. Well, immediately after that, all my hard work paid off! My boss, Stilson, nonchalantly informed me that I would be taking over as Segment Producer on the Christmas Episode! Naturally, I was nervous, but up for the challenge. (I cried and ran away.)
I regained my composure eventually and sat in the edit bay, day after day, watching Ozzy and his family celebrate Christmas. Over and over and over again. Eventually, I watched so much footage, I was actually able to understand 95% of what Ozzy mutters. Sometimes I can hear what he's thinking, too.
The episode wound up being the most watched show on cable that
week. Almost six million people saw it! Of course, the week
before and the week after had almost eight million
viewers. Where did those two million people go? It
was the first night of sweeps, and we were up against a lot of
competition. . . Let's check WCJ's TV Guide to find out
what the Ozzy Fans were watching:
http://www.pond.com/~uhjeff/tvguide.html
One person who didn't see it was JerryER, who
packed up his ire and moved to Rome, making him our first
international subscriber! To celebrate Jerry's
departure, East Coast pals Adam & The Bookbinders
and Toni Sitoy (Both from my radio-days) flew
out to attend Jerry's "ERrivaderci" party. Toni
prepared by pretending to pack a week before the trip, living out
of her suitcase while still at home, in order to estimate what
her actual clothing & make-up usage would be for the real
trip.
Neuroses aside, Toni & Adam had a great time during their visit. Upon seeing all the characters of West Coast Jeff in their natural habitat at Jerry's party, Adam reported, "It's like going to Disneyland and seeing all these weird characters come to life!!" Could a West Coast Jeff amusement park be in the works?
mmmmmOKno.
After Jerry left, the cast of WCJ all banded together and struggled to fill the void left in his wake. We were all so distraught over the departure of our friend that subconsciously we started to take over his life. Chafing Amy moved into his apartment while Goatee Greg replaced Jerry at his job at Comedy Central's "Battlebots". Not to be outdone, I decided to take over The Anger and Misery that chased him away from us in the first place.
You see, about a year ago, I took a job as coordinator on the World Stunt (WorSt) Awards. (See WCJ Episode 12) Many of you (myself included) regard this as a dark period. I disappeared for 6 weeks, and didn't get to see any of my friends. And those I did manage to spend time with absolutely hated me, and still do.
I swore that I would never do that show again. In fact, I vowed it. I had almost been poked in the eye, for fuck's sake. I said, many many times that I would rather be homeless than to work the WorSt Awards ever again.
Late last year, when I was working with my friends at Don Mischer Productions, I saw two of the people from the World Stunt Association (WorSt Ass.) In typical horror movie fashion, I tried to warn Eric, Charlie, Juliane and Raquel. None of them listened. I thought that Cowboy Wes would back me up and talk them out of producing this hideous nightmare of a show, as he experienced first-hand the terror that is The WorSt Awards.
But I was wrong. Wes betrayed me and his other decent, hard-working compadres, and let the WorSt seed be planted. This year, the WorSt show was ramping up just as production on The Osbournes was wrapping. Everyone at the Mischer office would call me up and try to lure me in: "Why don't you come back and work with us for a few weeks," they said. "It'll be different this year!" "Don's producing it!" Each time, the answer would come back, "NO!"
But then The Osbournes ended. . .and I needed to pay some bills. So Wes phoned me up during my last week at The Osbournes and said "Howdy! Why don't you come and be a Production Assistant for a few weeks." I'll admit it, I bought into the hype. Their propaganda worked. So, I broke down and, again, in typical horror movie style, said "OK."
As I typed that last sentence, a chill ran up my spine and I broke out in a cold sweat. I'll try to continue as best I can.
The following week, I started working with my pals again, as the WorSt Ass. prepared to present The WorSt Awards (hosted by WCJ Enemy Arnold Schwarzenegger). As the days progressed, the hours got longer and longer and the proverbial fan got pelted with more and more shit. Here I was, on a show that I coordinated last year, being a PA. It also didn't help that one of the stage managers kept coming up to me and chiding, "Hey! Didn't you used to work on The Osbournes?" I'd glare at him as I hauled moist, leaking bags of trash down the stairs.
It really was like living in a horror movie. Here I was, back from the first one where everyone except me and Wes had been killed, and we tried to warn everyone about this invisible monster. . .this force that almost consumed us all. And, just like in any horror movie, in this sequel, the body count was getting higher and higher and the victims were bloodier and bloodier.
I'll agree, this year SHOULD HAVE BEEN better than last year because of the people involved. But the show is cursed.
At one point during this fiasco, Wes flung a prong-less plastic fork at me from across the office and it somehow managed to land directly in my eye, despite that fact that I HAD MY GLASSES ON. At least last year, I only ALMOST got poked in the eye. Which, I guess, means that Cowboys have better aim than Ninjas.
A few days later, as delirium set in, I got a panic-stricken call from Tony, the Wacky Neighbor. He had gotten word that he was being kicked out of the building due to "major renovations" they had planned. Upset, I called our new apartment manager and it was confirmed: Everyone was being evicted.
Let's review: At this point I now have one eye and no home, and I was screaming "ARGH" every fifteen seconds out of pure hatred and frustration. Throw me a parrot and a puffy shirt and you have a fucking pirate. At least I'd be able to rape and pillage and get around by boat, which would have been nice because my car (much like me) decided that it didn't want to work anymore on the WorSt Day.
The day of the WorSt Awards at least meant that I was done! Except that I wasn't. Wes was like "Howdy! I need you to come in tomorrow." I said, "Okno.I have to get my car fixed." He pointed to Art-Ralph and said "He'll pick you up in the morning after you drop your car off."
And so, wearily I got up the next day, my 19th in a row, and dropped my car off. Wes had an 18-foot cube truck waiting for me to drive around Hollywood dropping equipment off. As I drove around Los Angeles that day, tired, flat broke, blind, homeless, cranky and distracted, I decided to cap off the perfect job with the perfect ending: I crashed the truck into a Range Rover that was parked on the side of the street. A lot. Well, that about did it for me. I pretty much snapped and called Wes up, screaming, "I HAVE HAD ENOUGH! I JUST FUCKING HIT A FUCKING TRUCK AND I QUIT!" I kept screaming into the phone for about 3 more minutes before deciding that Wes should have a chance to react. Unfortunately, the phone had died right after I said "I quit" because I was too tired to charge it the night before. Smoke billowed from my ears.
The man whose car I hit came over. He was like "This car is cursed. You're the third person to hit it, this is getting ridiculous." He was pissed. I decided that he was going to have to hear about how I just quit my job, lost my apartment and broke my car. I yelled at him until he turned to me and said "Wow.at least I'm not you."
I drove (slowly) back to the production office where the always-supportive Eric said, "You're finishing out the day, you know." I said, "Yeah, I don't really have a choice. I don't have a fucking ride home." He grinned victoriously as I finished up my final day thinking, "I really let these guys down. This sucks." Then I thought "wait.F them. I hate them. This is their fault." So I frowned and went home. NEVER TO RETURN!
Until two days went by and Eric called me up, asking if I could work again. "NO."
But I felt guilty and wound up going in JUST FOR ONE DAY. And then I quit and left!! NEVER TO RETURN!!
I began to negotiate a deal with my landlord about how much money they were going to give me to move. And then I got another call from Eric.
"Just tonight. Just one night." "No!" "C'mon, slugger! Take one for the team!"
But then I felt bad and changed my mind. Again.
BUT JUST FOR THAT NIGHT.
And then, again, I quit and left. NEVER TO RETURN.
Much like my pride.
I sorted out the stuff with the apartment deal. Goatee Greg
was already packing up to move in with his girlfriend,
Rachel. Then Eric called again.
I said "NO. NO WAY. I'VE GOT SHIT TO
DO."
By the time all was said and done, I think that I quit the 2nd
WorSt Awards a total of 4 times, more than anyone has ever quit a
job ever in the history of Earth. But, Eric and I are now
officially even. I told him so during the last time he
convinced me to come in. That makes it true, right?
On our last day, Eric and I made peace, and he quietly acquiesced
that this was the worst job ever. Eric said I was
right! That almost made it worth it.
Also almost making it worth it: One night (and I tell this
story more out of cold-blooded revenge for the WorSt Awards than
anything else) I was on the phone with Cowboy Wes, preparing to
go over to his place for a night of fun and frivolity with his
wife, Christine Thomas for Wes Thomas, Raquel, Tracy and Chafing
Amy. Here's a transcript of the conversation:
*Phone Rings*
Cowboy Wes: "Howdy!"
West Coast Jeff: "Yo!"
CW: "What's up? You still coming over
tonight?"
WCJ: "Yeah. Do you need me to bring
anything?"
CW: "Nope. Just yourself!"
WCJ: "OK. . .see you in a little bit."
CW: "OK. I love you."
WCJ: "Okbye"
After we got off the phone, what he said sank in. . .and I
started laughing. Meanwhile, his poor wife is next to him at home
saying, "Honey. . .who was that?" Wes said,
"It was Jeff! Howdy!" Christine:
"Well. . .is there something I should know?"
Wes: "No. . .why?" Just then I called
back.
CW: "Howdy!"
WCJ: (Still laughing) "Umm. . .Did you just say
you loved me?"
CW: "Did I?!"
Yes. Yes he did.
Fresh off Wes' declaration of love, I decided to fly home to get
my head clear. It also happened to be my sister, StupiDonna's
40th Birthday!! To celebrate, Donna wanted to get a
tattoo. Unfortunately, it was on me. And so, check
out the last Thousand Words and my brand new tattoo (yes, MY
tattoo) at www.pond.com/~uhjeff/tattoo.html
!!! And, for the first time ever, an official West Coast
Jeff contest!!! Check the site for more details on how you
could win A Valuable Prize from the WCJ Prize Container!
I'll announce the finalists in the next issue of West Coast
Jeff.
I have a ton more news, but will save that for the next episode,
where you
can read about:
And, since it is summer rerun season, let's take a moment and
reflect upon what happened three years ago, during my
cross-country adventure. Read "The Blair Witch
Road Trip" online at www.pond.com/~uhjeff/roadtrip.html
!
AND, As always-don't forget to visit our website: www.westcoastjeff.com ,
and e-mail me at UHJeff@westcoastjeff.com
!
OKbye.
