Every few days I log on to the good ol’ social medias for the sole purpose of perusing comments directed towards my boss, Kathy Griffin. I’m usually able to overlook the one or two comments using choice words like “fire crotch” to find an overwhelming amount of adoration from her legion of followers. They praise her for any and all Kathy show hilarity -- wearing J. Lo’s Grammy dress better than J. Lo did, that one time she got Larry King to confess to killing JFK, getting frisky with A$AP Rocky, etc. But then, no matter what, I always find at least five or six tweets asking Kathy for a job. Well, not just asking. Some people beg, some attach resumes, some claim they would be Kathy’s ultimate gay assistant and some even claim they would just “DiE To wOrK fOr KAtHY!!!” But is that true? Would you really die to work for Kathy Griffin? Because that’s a basic job requirement, or at least it was today. Lemme ‘splain.
Today we filmed a field piece (or what Kathy refers to as one of her “little movies”), and as you might already know, Kathy likes to feature us staff members in these pieces. I’m pretty terrified of being on camera, but Kathy usually convinces us to be in them because “it’s going to be fun!” and “we’re all just joking around!” So we agree to do it and then we somehow find ourselves wearing KKK (Kathy’s Kompassionate Kanines) t-shirts or being featured on a “dildo cam” at a sex shop. Of course this time it was no different, except for the fact that we all got killed during the making of. That’s right, I’m writing this from beyond the grave. Well not really, but wouldn’t that be fun? A ghost that types!