Internationally Shitting The Bed.

Starring in what is easily the worst segment in the history of the Oscars. You can’t unring that bell.

Rob Lowe was that star. (Click the video above to check it out. But skip around, because it’s really unwatchable. Rob enters about six minutes in.)

Here’s how he remembers it in his autobiography:

Every star can make a bad movie or TV show. If you are lucky, you may get to stay in the business long enough to make several. But very few get to participate in a train wreck in front of a billion people.

The pitch was simple: an elaborate musical number in the style of the famed Copacabana will open the show. A who’s who of old-time Hollywood stars will participate, including the biggest box-office queen of her era, Snow White. The gag will be that her date stands her up and I gallantly come to her rescue. 

There are ominous signs from the beginning. During rehearsals, it becomes clear that some of the older Hollywood legends cannot walk unassisted. So they are placed at tables where all they have to do is wave. Snow White is played by a sweet but inexperienced actress with a very high falsetto. However, when the big night arrives and she is faced with the living, breathing, actual stars, her voice jumps up two more octaves. By the time I make my entrance, live, in front of a billion people, she has that thousand-yard stare common to all performers who are going into the tank. We’ve all been there. I know the look. I look deep into her eyes, trying to get her to focus on me and steady her nerves. It seems to be going well. 

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see the great director Barry Levinson in the middle of the audience. There is nobody hotter or more important on the planet at this time. I see him very clearly. His mouth is agape. He almost looks ashen. He turns to his date, and I can clearly read his lips as he says, “What the F is this?” Bravely, I soldier on. 

I leave the stage, not having a real sense of how it went over. I make my way to the green room, deserted at this early part of the show except for an elderly lady with flame-red hair, sitting in a corner alone. It’s Lucille Ball. “Young man,” she says, “I had no idea you were such a good singer. Please come sit with me.” 

She holds my hand, and kisses me on the cheek, and then I watch as leaves to receive her Lifetime Achievement Award to a standing ovation. Within weeks she will pass away. 

Every year people debate what’s wrong with the Academy Awards. Why they are always so long, so boring, or just plain terrible. I have my theories, but of these two things I am certain: first, don’t they ever try to take the piss out of the Oscars. The ceremony is not merely escapist fare for the average American; it is considered to be of cancer-curing importance, an evening of the highest seriousness, to be revered at all costs. I hadn’t realized that. Second: when Lucille Ball likes what you do, it’s hard to give a shit about anyone else.

Once Again, Out-Of-Context Thank-You Notes I’ve Recently Written To Casting Directors.

• A swim-up bar is the best place to flirt while standing in other people’s piss.

• A pretty woman can totally convince me to spend too much in a sports store. Then again, so can an ugly dude.

• I’m just waiting for the big earthquake that’ll finally make Apple Maps 100% accurate.

• Already regret the text I’m about to send.

• As to what sort of mischief Ringling Brothers’ clown college could get into with a Smart Car, the mind fairly boggles.

 • Summer is the worst time of the year to turn goth. What the hell was I thinking?

It’s Going On The Fridge.

Nothing gets me motivated for 10-15 seconds like a good inspirational quote.

The above will last a bit longer. From a casting director who works on two major new dramas.

One Trip To The Vet; Four Nutty Observations.

Waiting to pick up our dogs was both me (summer allergies gave Ricky an itchy butt) and a giant black man. The black guy’s dog came out first, and it was the tiniest white Shih Tzu, followed by my Pit Bull. I asked the vet tech “What’s wrong with this picture?” Outside: the Shih Tzu piddled as it left the place.

In the parking lot, an extreme head-scratcher: a motorcycle with a handicapped plate.

Around the corner: somebody’s quinceanera getting ruined.

Two miles away, and this one ain’t funny: for the first time in months, we finally got rain in LA, but it came out of nowhere in the form of a very rare thunder storm. It hit people swimming and playing volleyball on Venice Beach, killing one and injuring 13.

Multitaria. It’s Spanish For “Multitasking.”

Sport Of Dirtbags.

You had them at arena football. You really had them when you named the team the LA Kiss. But you won them over forever with go-go dancers perched above the field.

The Best Q&A Of The Year.

I dunked on my brother one summer, like, 20 years ago, on the adjustable hoop in the driveway, and I still think about it roughly twice a week.

It’s amazing what stays with you. Like the way I got to see my favorite movie of the year.

For the past couple weeks, anticipating the premiere of Boyhood, I couldn’t shut up about it, and so I called my friend John Kapelos last week and asked him to see it with me. He said, “Actually, I have an extra ticket to a screening for some movie this weekend. Let’s see..” as he read from an email, “it’s followed by a Q&A with Richard Linklater, Ethan Hawke, Patricia Arquette and Ellar Coltrane.”

“That’s Boyhood!”

And so we went. It was a remarkable way to see the film. Here are some of the things discussed:

• To help her bond with the kids who were going to play her son and daughter, Patricia babysat them for a weekend. Richard then asked her to name their characters.

• After the first four years of shooting, Richard’s daughter wanted to drop out, and asked him to kill off her character. But Richard thought that was too momentous a plot shift, and made her finish the next eight years.

• Richard never cheated by shooting footage years later and pretending it was original. Everything was shot chronologically.

• After watching the beginning of the film, Ethan thought he looked handsome, and that this would lead to a few other offers for roles. Then, he got to the end, when he’d aged 12 years, and gave that right up.

• Ethan also had a profound thought about the technique of the film: “Stories in novels progress through years all the time, so this type of storytelling is not unique in that regard. But it’s completely original in a film.” He was genuinely thrilled to be a part of it. He also kept deflecting attention on him, constantly praising Patricia. He’s a good guy.