Quick-witted comedian Kathy Griffin may be riding the wave of success of her Bravo reality TV series, "Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List," but it's the stage, Griffin says, where she cuts loose with the most killer of quips. We caught up with Griffin over the phone from Los Angeles and talked about her upcoming back-to-back Atlanta shows, working with the Dog Whisperer and the reality of reality TV.
You're doing two shows back-to-back in Atlanta. How grueling is that?
I call it a double banger, a term I made up myself. When I'm doing my tour, I'll look at the calendar and say, "OK, here's a single, that's a double banger, here's where I'm going to need more sleep, here's where I'm going to need to eat at 4." I have a whole crazy system in my head. ... Between shows, I eat peanut butter for energy. ... I have a rider that says I have to have peanut butter backstage. I know that I should probably have cocaine and hookers. But it's just peanut butter and a plastic spoon. As a double Emmy nominee, I think I should start demanding a silver spoon, or at least some kind of metal.
How do you come down after two shows?
Like anybody else, I'm usually up pretty late. I usually don't talk after the shows. The hardest thing is to [do them] then not go out and have junk food somewhere. Because after a show, I just crave a dozen doughnuts, a tuna melt and a pie, which is not very A-list of me at all. It's food that the Olsen twins would not have over the span of their entire lives.
What was it like working with Cesar "The Dog Whisperer" Milan on an episode of your show?
I loved him. He was fantastic. He actually came to my house, and in a matter of time, he had my dogs doing things they haven't done in their entire lives. It was fantastic. He was very sweet, and he really trains people and rehabilitates dogs. He's the Dog Whisperer.
What type of control do you have about what goes on your show?
None. It's a constant battle. It's hard because I'm working all day and trying to be funny and stuff. And they send me a rough cut. They've gotten really smart. They used to send me a rough cut that was about 10 minutes long. I kind of got to take a crack at giving some notes, which are usually ignored. So now they send me rough cuts that are about two minutes long, which maybe gives me an option to change a word here or a word there. But I do have to tell you that I don't want to participate in the editing. I want people to do what they're best at, and I'm not a professional editor.
Do you have any secrets to help you tune out the cameras?
I don't see how you can. And my show is really bare bones. There are two cameras, and one is basically a camcorder. But still, it's in my house. ... But even though our crew is just seven people, everywhere you go, you've got seven people with you. You wake up in the morning and there are seven people in your house.
How real is your reality show?
I would say my show is clearly the most real one out there. There are no writers on my show. ... We shoot for a few months a year, and then I pack my schedule with things. And that's it. It's not like I do stuff on the show that I wouldn't do anyway. We don't tell people what to say on the show. We certainly don't tell people to have a certain reaction. The perfect example was when I got re-banned from "The View." We were filming the moment when I told my mom that I kind of went a little too far with my joke about Barbara Walters, and I've been disinvited to ever come back on "The View." And I actually thought that would be the perfect time for my mom to throw me under the bus and take Barbara's side. But my mom just surprised everyone and said, "Well, I'm not going to watch 'The View' anymore." And that's how it goes. I really like it when the show is unexpected. ... But you should really come check out the live show, because that's where the fur really flies, and I say the stuff I should be fired for.
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