The Curse Of The Minibar

(Originally posted 12/17/04 -- but deserves another run...)

Have I mentioned that I worked for THE ORGANIZATION THAT DOES NOT HATE FREEDOM for more than five years? One of the best jobs I ever had (and I've had a bunch of 'em). I worked with some of the most fun people during those five years, and I'm sure it had very little to do with the fact that I was single, in my 20s and drinking heavily.

I did a lot of things for NRA and one year I got put on a special project -- the Charlton Heston Celebrity Shoot out in Dana Point, California. Glamour! Excitement! "Celebrities!"

While there, I had a bet with a consultant as to which of us could get our picture taken with the funniest celebrity (funny in a B-list way, not in a "ha ha" way). I ended up winning -- finding and taking a picture with Jerry Mathers. The photo became my Christmas card that year with the greeting, "Merry Christmas. Love, Kathleen and the Beav." I gave one to a friend of mine in grad school who later became my husband. He still likes to joke that the reason he fell for me was that I so freely gave out my "beaver shot."

My Beaver shot.

Earlier in the evening, I was hanging out with Nat from the Peach Pit on Beverly Hills 90210. Seriously, at that time, he was my Brad Pitt -- I so loved 90210. I talked to Nat (still cannot remember his real name) in the bar for an hour or so -- don't remember a lot of it. About a week after I got back from the shoot, however, my sister (who lives in Florida) and I each received autographed head shots of Nat. Apparently, at some point in the evening, I wrote down both addresses and gushed enough to prompt the head shot sending.

But the best story......
One night, I stayed out til four in the morning, partying with some of the celebs at a party that only the cool kids were invited to. Now, because I worked for a non-profit, I was sharing a room with a co-worker on this particular trip. She had gone to bed around 10:00 that night and was fast asleep by the time I found my way back to the room. At this point, the minibar was just screaming to me, so I opened it, found a huge Hershey's chocolate bar and that's the last I remember -- UNTIL....at about 6:00am, I woke up to my roommate standing over my bed and yelling like a maniac. She was practically hysterical...pointing at me and screaming. I jumped up and also started screaming and ran to the bathroom to see what she was pointing at.

Apparently, in the dim light of the hotel room that morning, the choclate bar that I had fallen asleep with had smeared all over my face and bed, looking a lot like blood. She thought someone had come into the room and blugeoned me to death while she slept.

I was still clutching what remained of the chocolate bar -- apparently only willing to give it up once it was pried from my cold, dead hands.

Me and Robert Stack's daughter. She's handsy. Read comment thread.