who dat? contest



"i know!"


previous results:



actor
david moscow
big, newsies, zoe, duncan, jack, and jane

first correct answer:

melissa kenton

celebrity interview: my refrigerator

(EDITOR’S NOTE: I was just joking yesterday about quitting. The entire thing was a goof. Apparently a few people did not quite read through to the bottom. That’s funny. Seriously, everyone has been really cool. I love and appreciate you all. And I’m not adverse to meeting people either. It was a joke. Sorry if I pissed off/confused/freaked anyone out. It does remind me, though, of a test my father used to give to his high school students. There were like 70 random questions with instructions before. The instructions said: "INSTRUCTIONS – Do not fill out this test. Put down your pencil and relax for 45 minutes." I think every student filled out the test completely.)

I have to admit it, my celebrity interviews are really not going anywhere. I acknowledge that my questions stink and I’m somewhat slow on the uptake. I just freeze up when faced with such superstar bigger-than-life thespian icons like SAMATHA MATHIS and ETHAN HAWKE. But who can blame me, right? Well, this fact, coupled with the small problem that no celebrity will talk to me anymore, leads me to my latest foray into the world of inquisition: I’m interviewing my refrigerator.

I met my refrigerator in the kitchen of my apartment in the way lower Hollywood Hills. The kitchen has terra cotta tiles which crack and occasionally come loose. The walls are painted a weird yellow. I did not paint the kitchen. I did paint the bedroom dark green and the living room blue, but I was drunk that week. The interview was scheduled for 6pm but I was a little late. I entered the kitchen drinking a free Starbucks latte from my poor friend who works at Starbucks. My refrigerator was looking a little annoyed.

ME: Hey. Sorry I’m late.
MY REFRIGERATOR: (barely audible) bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
ME: Look. I’m sorry I’m late.
MR: bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
ME: Dude.
MR: bzzzzzzz.
ME: C’mon.
MR: bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
ME: Fine.
MR: bzzzzzz. (pause) You’re late.
ME: bzzzzzzzzzzz.
MR: Stop that.
ME: OK. Hi. Thanks for coming out.
MR: I’m not "out". I’m right where I always am.
ME: Right.
MR: Next to the oven. Stupid oven.
ME: Yeah.
OVEN: Hey.
MR: You are not the one being interviewed so you hush!
OVEN: (mumbling) Blow your shit up.
ME: So. When did you start, uh… making things cold.
MR: Well, Stee, it all started 14 years ago when Pat (my non-English speaking Filipino landlord – ed.) bought me at Pepe’s Appliances in Tustin.
ME: And you’ve been in this apartment ever since?
MR: Yes. I’ve taken care of eight different tenants’ food and beverage material.
ME: Eight.
MR: You’ve been the longest.
ME: Really?
MR: Over three years.
OVEN: (mumbling) Explode your ass.
ME: I didn’t know that.
MR: Yeah. So, what are you, some kind of loser.
ME: Excuse me?
MR: You’ve been here for three years.
ME: Yeah. I like it.
MR: Yeah… OK. Whatever.
OVEN: (mumbling) You suck.
ME: It’s cheap and it’s nice and I like the neighborhood and it’s near everything.
MR: You’re stagnating.
ME: Well you’re a fucking refrigerator.
MR: Good point.
ME: Thank you. So, any famous tenants before me?
MR: Matthew Perry once threw up on me.
ME: Really?
MR: No. It was Matthew Lillard.
ME: Oh. So. What do you think of your job?
MR: I used to like it.
ME: But now…
MR: You’re a good kid. You are. I see you working hard, running in and out of here. You got dreams. You got chutzpa. You got moxie.
ME: Thanks.
OVEN: Stupid dreams.
MR: But as a refrigerating individual, you suck.
ME: I do?
MR: Look at me. (the door opens) Look what’s in here.
ME: Yeah.
MR: Diet Coke. Always with the Diet Coke.
ME: I like-
MR: I’m just saying. And apple juice and cranberry juice and vodka and beer.
ME: I get thirsty.
MR: That’s OK. Everyone does. But let’s see: bread. Cheese. Mayo. Wilted lettuce.
ME: I should really throw that out.
MR: Soy sauce. Peanut butter. Mounds candy bars.
ME: It was hot and I thought they might melt.
MR: Let’s check the freezer.
ME: Well…
MR: Oh, wow. Look. Hmmmmm… Now what could aaaaaall that white stuff be…
ME: Um-
MR: Milk?
ME: No.
MR: Powdered sugar?
ME: No.
MR: Clouds? Big puffy clouds?
ME: No.
MR: That’s right. It’s ice! Six inches of ice on all sides of my freezer.
ME: Yeah, alright.
MR: And how long have you lived here?
ME: Three years.
MR: How many times have you defrosted me?
ME: Never.
MR: I’m sorry?
ME: Never.
MR: Oh. Never. Well, that’s just fucking great.
OVEN: Clean me.
MR: Even Edward Norton defrosts his refrigerator a couple times a year.
ME: Ed Norton used to live here?
MR: No. But word travels. We talk.
ME: Right.
MR: OK. Besides the fourteen pounds of ice, we got frozen pizza. And what’s that? In the foil.
ME: I think it’s salmon.
MR: And salmon. (pause) Dude.
ME: I know.
MR: So you could maybe for dinner make… a cheese, peanut butter, lettuce, Mounds, and salmon sandwich drenched in soy sauce.
ME: I usually eat out.
MR: With ice! You could have all the ice you want!
OVEN: I’m lonely.
ME: I’m really busy these days.
MR: Yeah yeah. We’re all busy, guy.
ME: How are you busy?
MR: (pause) Shut up.
OVEN: Can I have a cookie?
MR: All you do is grab coffee from my freezer in the morning.
ME: Yeah.
MR: Well… I’d really appreciate it if you’d get dressed first.
ME: Why?
MR: You think I want to see you naked?
ME: But I’m always going to the shower next.
OVEN: I don’t mind it.
MR: But do you know how stupid a naked human male looks, eyes half closed grinding coffee beans?
ME: No.
MR: Please. A towel at least. Boxers for chrissakes.
OVEN: Bake something.
ME: (to oven) Stop it. (to refrigerator) Look. I own you, at least as long as I’m renting this place. You’re my fridge. I-
MR: Don’t do that.
ME: What?
MR: Call me fridge. That’s not nice.
ME: Fridge? Short for refrigerator.
MR: Still.
ME: Fine. You’re my refrigerator and I-
MR: Ah-ha!
ME: What?
MR: OK, I’m yours. So, if I’m yours, as you say, who should be dusting me?
OVEN: Get a pet monkey, OK.
ME: Um…
MR: Look on top of me, where the microwave is. See. All that dust. Boy, that’s just disgusting.
OVEN: Microwaves make your food yucky.
ME: Yeah, I really should do that more often.
OVEN: No Y2K bugs here.
MR: Have you ever lifted up the microwave and dusted under there?
ME: Once maybe.
MR: See.
OVEN: Microwaves cause cancer.
ME: OK. I get it.
MR: Do you even want to get into what’s under me?
OVEN: I’ll clean up after the monkey. I promise.
ME: No. Probably not, right?
MR: 14 magnets. A marble. 2 cubic feet of dust.
OVEN: Dust is made from poo.
MR: 7 glass shards. A pretzel. A spoon. Cat food.
ME: I don’t own a cat.
OVEN: Monkey.
MR: A peanut. A tortilla chip. 3 dead water beetles.
OVEN: Ringo had a monkey.
MR: A coupon from Dominos.
ME: Fine.
MR: A dried-up baby carrot.
ME: OK! FINE. I GET IT!
MR: Your acting career.
ME: Now you’re just being mean.
MR: Sorry. I’m just…
ME: I know. I’ve been neglectful.
MR: You have.
ME: I’m sorry.
MR: Apology accepted.
(we hug)
ME: OK. Well, thanks for the interview.
MR: Anytime.
OVEN: (whispering to the refrigerator) Do you think he heard me about the monkey?

The Larry King Happy Song Corner

I love the Color Purple, Macaroni and Cheese. Ruby red slippers and a bunch of trees. Call you up but what’s the use. Larry’s likes Kevin Bacon but I hate Footloose. I came in the door I said it before. I think I’m overdue but I’m really not sure. When I met you I said my name is Larry. You look like a girl from Abercrombie and Fitch. New Kids on the Block had a bunch of hits. Chinese food makes me sick. And I think it’s fly when girls stop by for the summer, for the summer. I like girls that wear Abercrombie and Fitch. I'd take her if I had one wish. But she's been gone since that summer… speaking of which. I really like Chinese food- wait, hold on. Stop. I can’t go on. This is probably the most idiotic song ever written. I’m not kidding. White people generally write the worst fucking rap lyrics. House of Pain. Emenem. Limp Bizkit. I like all of their music, but stupid stupid lyrics. "Chinese food makes me sick." This song makes me sick. Just stupid. Oh so dumb.

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