Maybe she just walked in off the street and started serving beer in the same way she did at that shoot last month where she was vacuuming? I don't know. I don't care, either. Screw you.
The Kill Girl Kill 2 party was held at Il Corral on Heliotrope in a section of Hollywood that looks like it should be somewhere else, like Riverside. The club was a cross betweeen the back room of a button manufacturer and Jame Gumb's basement, with a huge projection wall. A DJ played the song stylings of Sweet (formerly The Sweet).
On the wall was Kill Girl Kill 2. McKai had told me the first scene was going to send him to Hell. This interested me, as I know so many people in this and the other entertainment industry who justify a significant amount of surprising behavior on the fact that they're going to Hell anyway. But I didn't see the scene in question, and McKai was standing, unsinged, outside the club, wheeling and dealing.
"Are you seeing everyone you need to see?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, sipping my complimentary Mr. Shasta importantly.
All Media Play president and beneficiary of divine intervention Jeff Mullen was there, and I asked him about his recent SUV rollover. "Things happen quickly, but you have the chance to think about everything as it's happening," he said, noting that the windshield broke into "a million pieces" and he remembered thinking that each one might blind him.
Deciding that he had shortchanged God, Mullen then spied two half-Pakistani starlets and suggested the title of a porn film that will surely get him killed just after it makes him rich.
Another person who had cheated death recently, Evan Stone, was there celebrating his birthday. He was wearing a clean white shirt. Unlike the Ghost Shirts of my native Sioux, his shirt had no bullet holes.
Kill Girl Kill 2 hits the streets today.
