When I had a real life -- which is to say, before I spent my free time trying to convince complete strangers that not only did they want to purchase my books, but that they also want me to autograph said book, and autograph it with a statement I'd otherwise never utter in real life, something like, "Best wishes! And all my best" -- I was much like the rest of you: a slave to the 9-5 grind. Well, that's not exactly true, because I've only had two 9-5 jobs in my adult life -- I spent 18 months getting people temporary jobs for a living and another year or so working in advertising -- but, yeah, prior to becoming a big-time famous midlist author (supposing, naturally, that the midlist has, you know, fallen some) I held a series of positions where I came into contact with people not of my own imagination. There was my term at The Wherehouse in Woodland Hills, followed by a term at The Wherehouse in Reseda, both marked by a surprising shrinkage in cassette tape stock at the stores and a growth of stolen cassette tape stock in my Toyota Tercel. There was the year I worked at the law firm, followed by the six other months where I worked at the law firm but actually did no work until they fired me...followed by the three months they rehired me the following summer. There were my paid jobs in student government at CSUN and then, finally, the year I worked as a waiter at Ruby's Diner in Woodland Hills. I am proud to say that during my employ in all but one of these jobs (the law firm being the exclusion) I ended up copulating with someone out of wedlock. How did this come about? Well, I was single, surrounded by other single people and was, at the time, able to procure alcohol for those under 21. (It should be noted that Wendy worked with me at Ruby's and will totally vouch for the fact that I was also, yeah, um, just exceptionally alluring, which lead to, you know, the marriage and stuff after the initial out of wedlock post-burger slinging copulation event.) Of all the people I slept with at that time, I can say with perfect certainty that none were married. Now, of course, later in life I did hear and witness married co-workers engaging in affairs and what not with other co-workers but I'd say that it was less often than one might imagine. Did it happen? Certainly. But for the most part the people I worked with were professionals who kept their personal lives out of the workplace. (That's not to say I couldn't scandalize the world with stories of authors screwing authors, or friends screwing really bad best selling authors until you must wonder what the fundamental lack is inside said person, if they were to exist, that makes them want to screw authors of really, really, really, really, really bad crime novels...but that's a what if, really.)
What the fucktards of the world might not realize is that famous actors are very similar to real humans. When they go to work, they often leave their personal lives at home, because, well, they're at work...even if their job is to make horrendously bad films like the sequel to Zorro. If an actor is happily married, say, but works with someone who happens to be attractive, the happily married actor most likely will not suddenly turn into a cad out on the make. Actors, just like humans, but unlike the fucktards of the world who are incapable of understanding that people in that glowing box in their living rooms still sometimes wake up and find that they've Hershey-squirted the bed, are feeling not so confident about their breath and may have accidentally performed a nocturnal emission on the Labrador Chester who sleeps snuggled on the bed, are simply people with better jobs than, say, Alexandra R. of Washington, DC, who wrote Walter Scott with this probing question regarding infidelity and jealousy:
Why did the terminally jealous Melanie Griffith let her husband, Antonio Banderas, have steamy love scenes with Catherine Zeta-Jones in Zorro and Jennifer Lopez in the upcoming film Bordertown?
Something tells me that Alex R. doesn't really know Melanie Griffith, so we'll let his innately fucktarded notation that Melanie is "terminally jealous" slide off with a simple note that those who are terminally jealous typically do not hold the strings to others actions, they merely let them occur so that they can be jealous (Psych 101 taught me much and Dr. Drew taught me the rest), but the rest of the question is simply too difficult to ignore, for our friend Alex is, indeed, a fucktard of the highest order: One Who Cannot Separate Fiction From Fact. So, Alex, let's do a little Q&A.
Q: Is Antonio Banderas really Zorro?
Q: Did Antonio Banderas actually have sex with Ms. Zeta-Jones...who, of course, is married with child to Michael Douglas...or was it, you know, part of a movie called Zorro?
Q: Do you have a job, Alex? (I mean, other than clairvoyant, which is what you must be to know such intimate details regarding Bordertown, a movie not even scheduled for release until 2006, and which is probably still filming) In your job, do you ever have to fake something for the success of a project? I know this is hard to conceptualize, but work with me here, Alex. Say you work at Starbucks. Do you fake exuberance when that same damn guy who comes in every day and orders the same thing stands in front of you mumbling, "I'll....have...a...uh...hmmm...well...uh...hmmm...grande non-fat...oh...uh...tall...no grande...mocha?" Now, imagine you're a happily married Scientologist and are forced to tongue kiss Renee Zelwegger...wouldn't you take one for the team?
Q: Are you so unencumbered by conflict and guilt in your own life that you must pressure Melanie Griffith into a fit of terminal jealousy?
You see, Alexandra, Antonia Banderas is a married man with a job. The women you speak of, Catherine Zeta-Jones and J. Lo, are married women with jobs. Granted, not all jobs on earth involve simulated copulation, but more should, definitely, and I'd expect that you, Alexandra, might be willing to hold back your unbridled passion. But let's see what Walter says:
Melanie denies the reports of her jealousy. But she must have been comforted knowing that Antonio shot steamy scenes with femme fatale Angelina Jolie for Original Sin (2001) without incident. Besides, Zorro is PG and Bordertown has no love scenes.
While I happen to find Angelia rather, uh, hot, and while I admire all of her humanitarian work and, of course, her transcendent performance in Gone In 60 Seconds, I don't know if I'd refer to her real life persona as "an attractive woman who leads men into difficult or doomed situations" because, well, Walter, SHE'S A REAL PERSON NOT A FICTIONAL FUCKING CHARACTER AND REAL PEOPLE SOMETIMES DON'T FUCK OTHER PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE, YOU KNOW, THEY'D LOOK NICE NAKED TOGETHER AND HAPPEN TO WORK IN THE SAME OFFICE.
Though, I should note that I did a signing with Dean Koontz, Rob Roberge, Gregg Hurwitz, Mark Haskell Smith and 58 other men a couple weeks ago and then, yeah, made love to each of them in a slow and deliberate way.