THE CLOSEST I HAVE EVER GOTTEN, OR WOULD EVER WANT TO GET, TO FRED DURST
So I went to the premiere of the new Tina Fey-Amy Poehler vehicle Baby Mama last night (don’t ask). It wouldn’t really be an event worth talking about, except that when I got to the swanky after-party, who did I find myself standing next to but one Mr. Frederick Durst.
Once I got past the shock that, yes, he really does look that bad these days (even when in a suit instead of whatever he rolled out of bed with), I found myself facing a series of choices for how to best proceed:
- Should I kick him in the nuts?
- Should I ask if he wants to do an on-the-spot interview and then ask him why he sucks so bad?
- Should I give him my business card (yes, we do have business cards here at the MetalSucks mansion)?
- Should I do and say absolutely nothing?
Ultimately, I chose the fourth and final option. Why? Well, kicking him in the nuts or insulting him seemed like a surefire way to get myself kicked out of the party, and the lil’ lady and I wanted to see if we could seduce Tina Fey into a three way (the answer, in case you’re curious, is “no,” although Chevy Chase told us he was down for anything so long as he could whistle that “Holiday Roads” song the whole time). Ditto for giving him my card; it’s unlikely Durst knows MetalSucks or is in any way aware of the not-so-complimentary things we’ve said about him in the past, but if, by some off chance, he took my card and then looked at the site, well, I didn’t want him having my cell phone number. ‘Cause he seems like the kind of cat who would just crank call you from now until the end of time.
By the way, he had a relatively attractive woman with him. Good to know that being famous a decade ago still gets the dude laid.