Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me Part 12

My sister Shana still has room for improvement. She is constantly tired and constantly asking extremely annoying questions. I like her more now than I did when we were younger, and I definitely love her more now than I did when I was younger. We talk all the time and vacation together all the time, but I'd be lying if I said we'd be friends if she weren't my sister. We would not. My sister Shana still has room for improvement. She is constantly tired and constantly asking extremely annoying questions. I like her more now than I did when we were younger, and I definitely love her more now than I did when I was younger. We talk all the time and vacation together all the time, but I'd be lying if I said we'd be friends if she weren't my sister. We would not.-Chelsea

Shana giving it to me from behind in Atlantic City. Shana giving it to me from behind in Atlantic City.

Chapter Nine.

Eva Is My Name, Comedy Is My Game EVA MAGDALENSKI.

The first time I met Chelsea I was nineteen. I was working at the Denver Comedy Club and she was there performing for the week. I immediately loved her. I didn't necessarily think that she was that funny, but she seemed smart and quick. I also really loved the fluorescent scrunchies she wore in her hair. Sometimes a well-dressed ponytail is all it takes to get me going, and don't even get me started on how I feel about an organized French braid. Since then, Chelsea has ditched the scrunchies, but there are some memories that n.o.body can take away from me.

While Chelsea was in Denver, she had to go to several radio stations and give on-air interviews to promote her shows. It was my responsibility to make sure she made it to those stations and that she was comfortable.

You know that feeling you get when someone comes up to you and starts ma.s.saging your shoulders without asking first? You become very still and uncertain while the unwelcome ma.s.sage quickly becomes kind of creepy and uncomfortable. All you can think about is how badly you want that person's hands off you. You can't really function or make any sudden movements without making things really awkward, so all you say is "Oh, thanks... you don't have to do that. No, really. That's okay. Please. Get off me."

Well, I was giving Chelsea those ma.s.sages during her radio interviews. My intention was to relax her; it was early in the morning and from what I'd seen with other stand-up comics over the years, there was a good chance she was hungover. Luckily, instead of getting irritated and shouting, "Stranger danger!" the way many had in the past, Chelsea appeared to enjoy my famous touch. She said it was really weird that I had no boundaries when it came to molesting her shoulders, and she appreciated someone who didn't care if they made other people uncomfortable. After that she lovingly nicknamed me Sloppy Sea Ba.s.s. I don't know what that had to do with the ma.s.sage, but coming from Chelsea, that nickname was a sign of affection.

Chelsea liked something else about me, but when I recently asked her to tell me what that "something" was, she said she'd have to get back to me. One thing that Chelsea did recognize about me was that I had a pa.s.sion for comedy. I guess I didn't hide it all that well, since all I talked about was my pa.s.sion for comedy. I've often been told that I don't have much of a life, but the joke is on the people who say that to me, because the fact is I don't. But at least I'm aware of it.

She also enjoyed my sense of humor. One day I went to use the restroom and noticed that Chelsea was in the stall next to mine. When I heard another person enter the bathroom, I started yelling, "What is all of this blood? There's so much blood!" Chelsea exited her stall and the bathroom, completely ignoring me and leaving the stranger to deal with my pretend situation. Ten minutes later, Chelsea offered me a job as her publicist.

Working at a comedy club in Denver was enjoyable, but there wasn't a ton of room to move up the ladder. At best I would have become head waitress one day. I was pretty eager to get my career going, so I accepted Chelsea's offer and quit the club. I began working as her eager-probably overeager-publicist. It was hard work, but it was fun. I was still living in Denver, and she was in Los Angeles, which was fine, since most of the work I needed to do could be done from a phone or computer. We got along really well, which Chelsea says may have had something to do with the long-distance thing. In any case, we developed a pretty close relations.h.i.+p; it was like a sisterhood minus the traveling pants.

Then Chelsea got an offer to host her own show. Since she recognized over the years that I was a hard worker who also happened to have amazing breath, she offered me a full-time job as her a.s.sistant. I accepted and moved to Los Angeles. She generously allowed me to move in with her and her boyfriend while I got settled in the city and looked for my own place. She told me to keep an eye out for a place for her as well, because she hated her boyfriend. After a couple of months of living with them, Chelsea told me to get out while I could. She saw no reason that we both needed to suffer through her current living situation.

"I'll be free soon," she told me. "See you on the other side."

I took her advice and settled into my new apartment in a new city and started concentrating on my new job. It was unbelievable: my most likely dead-end job at a comedy club had turned into my dream job with a comedian who was on the verge of huge things. It took only a couple of weeks of working that closely with her for it to become clear to me that Chelsea Handler was, and still is, a huge con artist.

Before I moved to Los Angeles I knew nothing about fas.h.i.+on, television, or celebrity. Now I know a lot about celebrity, but I still wear stretch pants and ill-fitting s.h.i.+rts. However, stand-up comedy was and is still my main area of expertise. That's where the whole "having no life" thing comes from. When you stay in on weekend nights watching old Steve Martin videos, it's hard to convince others that you have a ton going on. Any opportunity I had to show off the skills I did have, I took. I was probably a little overzealous with my knowledge. A simple mention of the word comedy comedy by someone, and I would b.u.t.t in: "Stand-up? What do you want to know about stand-up? I pretty much know everything about every comic ever. Heard of the Denver Comedy Club? I ran it, kind of!" by someone, and I would b.u.t.t in: "Stand-up? What do you want to know about stand-up? I pretty much know everything about every comic ever. Heard of the Denver Comedy Club? I ran it, kind of!"

My reputation as resident comedy expert was really flouris.h.i.+ng around the offices of Chelsea Lately. Chelsea Lately. I walked around with my head held high. That was also because Chelsea told me I had horrible posture and had more than once threatened to make me wear a back brace. I felt I had even garnered a lot of respect from the camera crew; from what I could tell, they didn't respect much, so I felt pretty special-until someone stole the plaque that hung on my office door. I had proudly made it myself, very carefully embossing in gold the words "Eva: Comedy Expert," and I buffed it daily with a gentle cloth. I was b.u.mmed when it was taken, but I refused to make a big deal out of it. Besides, I had a backup over my gas fireplace at home. I walked around with my head held high. That was also because Chelsea told me I had horrible posture and had more than once threatened to make me wear a back brace. I felt I had even garnered a lot of respect from the camera crew; from what I could tell, they didn't respect much, so I felt pretty special-until someone stole the plaque that hung on my office door. I had proudly made it myself, very carefully embossing in gold the words "Eva: Comedy Expert," and I buffed it daily with a gentle cloth. I was b.u.mmed when it was taken, but I refused to make a big deal out of it. Besides, I had a backup over my gas fireplace at home.

There was only one person who didn't take me seriously. He was Chelsea's personal appearance agent, and he was never interested in what I had to say. He, whom we shall call Rick because it rhymes with what I used to whisper under my breath every time I saw him, always blatantly disregarded my very valuable insights and understanding of how to market Chelsea's stand-up career. He never responded to my text messages or e-mails, or confirmed that he had received any of my numerous smoke signals. He never even bothered to call me back to discuss my brilliant idea of selling scratch-'n'-sniff panties with Chelsea's face on them or life jackets that read "Chelseahandler.com" for her summer appearances. I felt the latter was both useful and promotional, not to mention life-saving. It's also never been done before. In fact, I'm glad I reminded myself about them, because they still need to be made. Eva: 1, Rick: 0.

No matter what people might think about me, and I've heard some pretty awful things, when it comes to Chelsea, I know what I'm talking about. I've done more than my fair share to keep myself informed on everything about her. I have spent many a night putting articles, photos, and ticket stubs into sc.r.a.pbooks. I prefer to complete them monthly, so that at the end of the year she will have twelve lovely books of memories to flip through and help her reflect on what she has accomplished over the months. I like to think she sits down with them on New Year's Day over a bowl of black-eyed peas, perhaps while listening to the Black Eyed Peas, and congratulates herself on a job well done while compiling a list of all the things she would like to accomplish in the coming year. Unfortunately, Chelsea walked into my office one day during an all-out sc.r.a.pbooking session. Seeing me sitting on the floor and sweating while surrounded by photos of her, with scissors in one hand and glitter in the other, and wearing a ChelseaHandler.com life vest must have been too much for her to handle. life vest must have been too much for her to handle.

She said to me, "Eva, this is where I draw the line. I've seen Single White Female Single White Female, and I'm not interested in you putting a stiletto through one of my lover's eyes. No more f.u.c.king sc.r.a.pbooks."

"But, Chelsea, this year has been so-"

"Eva, stop. This is what people do when they are children. I never did it because, for the most part, my childhood is something I'd like to forget. If you put together one more of those things, I'm going to cut your hair off at the ponytail."

Chelsea knew how much I loved a good ponytail, and the idea of no longer being able to wear a side one sent me into the fetal position. I put away my glue stick and double-sided tape and decided to focus on getting Rick to make a nice new poster for Chelsea's upcoming shows.

You'll notice that Chelsea is about ten pounds overweight in this photo. You'll notice that Chelsea is about ten pounds overweight in this photo.

I tried to do everything I could to help Rick help Chelsea succeed, but he ignored me. He consistently sent out old promotional materials for Chelsea's stand-up performances. You'd think he would use her starring in her own show as a selling point, but instead the posters read: "Chelsea Handler from Girls Behaving Badly Girls Behaving Badly Live at Zanies This Weekend!" Live at Zanies This Weekend!"

Here is a stand-up poster that Rick sent to a Nashville comedy club. Chelsea Lately had already been on the air a full year. Here is a stand-up poster that Rick sent to a Nashville comedy club. Chelsea Lately had already been on the air a full year.

I started to wonder if he knew about Chelsea's show. Maybe he was like that guy from the movie Memento Memento and he forgot new information within seconds of learning it. So I did everything I could to get Rick to update the information he used to promote Chelsea. This included hourly updated data on how her book was selling, organized breakdowns of her show's ratings, and bullet point lists of her most impressive credits. I even updated her Web site with new headshots and a short bio, so that all he had to do was send a link to club promoters. I FedEx'd over the sc.r.a.pbooks I'd made, along with a new one I'd put together in private, after hours, when there was no chance Chelsea could walk in on me. I tried everything I could to help him make himself look like he had his s.h.i.+t together. He still never replied to me. and he forgot new information within seconds of learning it. So I did everything I could to get Rick to update the information he used to promote Chelsea. This included hourly updated data on how her book was selling, organized breakdowns of her show's ratings, and bullet point lists of her most impressive credits. I even updated her Web site with new headshots and a short bio, so that all he had to do was send a link to club promoters. I FedEx'd over the sc.r.a.pbooks I'd made, along with a new one I'd put together in private, after hours, when there was no chance Chelsea could walk in on me. I tried everything I could to help him make himself look like he had his s.h.i.+t together. He still never replied to me.

I was preparing myself for an all-out war with Rick when, out of nowhere, he started paying attention to me. Suddenly he was returning my calls, responding to my e-mails, and getting back to me via text message. This is so great This is so great, I thought. He's finally taking me seriously as a businesswoman! He's recognizing the contributions I bring to the table and is finally coming around to my ideas! Mom was right. Hard work really does pay off! He's finally taking me seriously as a businesswoman! He's recognizing the contributions I bring to the table and is finally coming around to my ideas! Mom was right. Hard work really does pay off!

The sudden turn of events gave me an extra little skip in my step. The scoliosis that Chelsea had diagnosed me with disappeared, and I walked a little taller during this particular period of recognition.

Sadly, my newfound high came cras.h.i.+ng down around me when I discovered that Chelsea had sneaked onto my computer and sent the following from my e-mail account.

From: Eva M.Date: 6/14/2008To: RickHey Big Guy,What are you doing for lunch today? I'm super duper h.o.r.n.y and I'm just gonna say it: my c.l.i.t is burning for you. Can we meet?Ready and waiting,Eva You see, Chelsea has tricked the world into believing that she is technologically r.e.t.a.r.ded, but that's a lie. What I and several other victims have discovered is that she likes to sneak into people's work s.p.a.ces, get on their computers without their knowledge, and wreak havoc. I don't know when she had the time to develop the computer skills she possesses. Maybe she takes night cla.s.ses or is enrolled in online courses. If she is, I wish she'd tell me, because I'd like to frame her diploma when she graduates. Regardless, she's pretty s.h.i.+fty. She loves to send out random e-mails in your name. It's a known fact around the office: If you need to go to the bathroom, grab a bagel, or have a desire for a drink on Margarita Thursdays, you'd better remember to lock your computer before you leave. If you have a laptop it's better to just bring it with you. If you don't, Chelsea will humiliate you.

What's worse than the e-mails she sends to other people is the way you find out what she's done. Suddenly you start getting concerned voice mail messages from friends or family who are worried about your personal safety or your latest case of s.h.i.+ngles.

When I found the e-mail that she'd sent to Rick, I was mortified. For the next six months, he insisted on communicating with me. He was suddenly adamant that we have face-to-face meetings. Although I was able to dodge a one-on-one dinner date, it was impossible not to run into him at Chelsea's stand-up shows. He'd follow me around all night and compliment my walk, while I smiled and nodded and pretended not to want to strangle him. Part of me was flattered; n.o.body had ever told me that I had a nice walk before, but once I remembered he wouldn't have been complimenting me if he didn't think my underwear was on fire for him, I'd get p.i.s.sed off again. And yet, no matter how irritated I got, I just didn't have it in me to tell him that the e-mail had not been from me. I a.s.sumed he'd be more embarra.s.sed than I was, especially once he recalled all of the times he had "accidentally" b.u.mped into me with what I'm fairly certain was an erection.

Chelsea did nothing to help the situation. She knew that I was too terrified to confront Rick on his newfound creepiness, so she continued to egg him on. She would say things like "I think Eva has a crush on you..." to keep him interested. At one point Rick decided to tell Chelsea about the e-mail. Instead of coming clean, she played dumb.

"I can't say I'm surprised that she wrote that," Chelsea lied. "I think she really has it bad for you. She has some real horniness issues. She needs to unwind, and f.u.c.king is the only way she can do it."

To this day Rick and I have not cleared the air on the issue. I never told him the truth, and he never directly asked me about the e-mail. After a while I felt that too much time had pa.s.sed and it was best to just let it go. I also figured that once he was no longer handling her personal appearances, I didn't have to worry about him handling anything personal of mine.

As I'm sure you can imagine, many of Chelsea's friends and family members are on high alert when they receive any e-mail that contains sensitive-sounding material. She's still able to fool most of us, but a few of the savvier people in her life have caught on to her. Her sister Simone is one of those people.

One afternoon I was searching through my e-mails for something I had sent to a club about one of Chelsea's upcoming shows when I noticed an e-mail that had been sent to Simone. Knowing that I hadn't e-mailed her that day, I felt instant panic. Great! What had "I" done this time? I opened the e-mail and read it.

From: Eva MagazineTo: SimoneSubject: Please Help MeHey Simone,I was just wondering if you could talk to Chelsea for me.She's been really moody lately. I think she is stressed out about something. I feel weird telling you this, but she slapped me the other day. I don't know how to approach her, and I'm worried something worse is going on. I've never been hit before. I wouldn't care if it was just once, but obviously I don't want it to graduate to a punch.Please don't tell her I e-mailed you, I have a wedding coming up and I don't want a black eye.Eva Simone is a little more on top of things than Rick. Later that day, I received this response.

From: SimoneTo: Eva MagazineSubject: RE: Please Help MeUh, you had me at h.e.l.lo..."graduate to a punch?" Nice try, Chelsea.SimoneP.S. Chels, it was a very solid effort (Shana was ready to fly out and save Eva) Even though Simone has become quick enough to know when she is being Chelsea'd, a few others are still learning.

My adopted sisters (i.e., Chelsea's sisters Shoshonna and Simone) and me. Whether she likes it or not, Chelsea is a sister to me. We care and worry about each other, we will always be there for each other no matter what, and we know how to make each other nuts. I will be with her until we are old ladies, me and my Chelsea Handlerbrand hearing aid. My adopted sisters (i.e., Chelsea's sisters Shoshonna and Simone) and me. Whether she likes it or not, Chelsea is a sister to me. We care and worry about each other, we will always be there for each other no matter what, and we know how to make each other nuts. I will be with her until we are old ladies, me and my Chelsea Handlerbrand hearing aid.

Chelsea has a close friend and work colleague named Kevin. He and his partner, Brian, are two of Chelsea's longtime friends and by far some of the nicest people I have ever met. They are gracious, caring, giving, and nurturing. They've always been so good to me and I adore them. They are the kind of people who don't deserve to be f.u.c.ked with. Unfortunately, Chelsea loves all of the people who are close to her equally. That means n.o.body gets special treatment... and n.o.body is safe. One afternoon I received this e-mail.

From: KevinTo: Eva M.Hi Eva,Good to hear from you. We'd love to have dinner this week. Can you come to our house on Tuesday around 7:30 PM? Delicious has offered to cook! Not a common occurrence. Ha ha. If not, we'll find another night.And don't worry; you can count on our complete discretion. We've both been there and understand how important your privacy is.Looking forward to it.

I had no idea what Kevin was talking about. I hadn't written to either of them in a while, so why would he be saying that it was "good to hear from" me? I know. Sometimes it still takes a few minutes for me to process the obvious. Once reality hit me, I went into my Sent folder to find out what kind of e-mail "I" had sent Kevin. My body went slightly numb when I found this.

From: Eva M.To: KevinHow are you? I was wondering if you and Brian were free any nights this week to maybe grab dinner at your place, and we could talk over a couple of things. I've always admired a couple that can make a same-s.e.x partners.h.i.+p work and would love to get your thoughts and/or advice on that very topic. For now, I'd prefer to keep this confidential, as I feel it is a sensitive and challenging issue for me. I have not acted on any of my s.e.xual impulses yet, but I am desperately yearning to and could really use the insight that the two of you have. Please let me know. Thanks so much!

I knew that Chelsea would be pretty pleased with herself that Kevin had responded to me the way he had, so I didn't tell her. I also knew that she would never come to me and ask, so I figured I'd just let her sweat it out. It was like putting a piece of steak outside a lion's cage and watching the lion desperately try to find a way to get to it. This was the only way I could give her any sort of payback.

As the days pa.s.sed, she was obviously getting impatient because, as I later found out, she took matters into her own hands and decided to probe Kevin for a little information.

From: CHTo: KevinI hear there's a secret lesbian coming over to the two big bears' house to confess her love of COSLOPI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am dying to know the details. Can I come over and eavesdrop? I could hide in a closet... just like Eva's been doing for years!

From: Kevin From: KevinTo: CHh.e.l.lo, Chelsea.Just as I would never divulge any of your confidences or betray your trust, I would appreciate you respecting the fact that I am also not at liberty to discuss anyone's personal life. If somebody wants to talk to you about something, then they will. In the meantime if they choose to talk to me, I must keep that in confidence. I hope you can respect that.Love,Kevin Chelsea was dying. She flew into a fit of laughter and peed her pants at her desk. Yes, she does that often and, yes, it's disgusting. I cross my fingers that one day she'll have her bladder checked out. When she finally pulled herself together she decided that she should put an end to the joke. Kevin was obviously taking the whole thing very seriously, and she thought it was time to let him know it was all a big lie. At least that's what she told me; I think she just needed me to work that weekend and didn't want to lose me to a fake brunch.

From: CHTo: KevinOh, really, d.i.c.khead? You want to respect her privacy? First you need to learn to respect my ability to f.u.c.k with you. Who do you think sent the e-mail in the first place?P.S. Your response to her was nice. You're truly not a s.h.i.+tty person, but you're still gay and that will never change.

Kevin did not respond to Chelsea for three days. First he e-mailed me to confirm that he had been f.u.c.ked with. Then he decided to give Chelsea the silent treatment, which he knew she couldn't stand. Chelsea knew that Kevin was trying to smoke her out, so she just waited idly by until he contacted her. That girl is made of steel.

Kevin finally decided to respond to her, knowing that she'd let this drag out as long as she needed to.

From: KevinTo: CHYou're terrible, Muriel, just terrible. I want to know one thing: What did your parents do to you that turned you into such a crazed and conniving lunatic? On top of that, how do you have the time to send e-mails out from other people's computers? Don't you have to tape a television show every day? I usually tune in, and while you do come off as unprepared and butcher almost every person's name, I'd imagine you put in at least a little bit of prep time. Are you a f.u.c.king octopus?

From: CH From: CHTo: KevinI'm not an octopus, but I am an octop.u.s.s.y. An octop.u.s.s.y that poor closeted Eva would really like to get a hold of, but now she has no one to talk to...

One thing Chelsea always is to her friends and her staff is generous. Perhaps it's her way of apologizing for, say, announcing your pregnancy to your family and throwing in your intention to raise your baby by yourself since the father could be any number of people.

One year Chelsea took her entire staff to Cabo San Lucas for her birthday. She also flew her family down to experience what was later referred to as the "Chelsea Lately Gone Wild" vacation in Mexico. For the record, Chelsea never called it that. In fact, she thinks most of us are stupid. She's kind of right: most people who work for her should abstain from alcohol. Gone Wild" vacation in Mexico. For the record, Chelsea never called it that. In fact, she thinks most of us are stupid. She's kind of right: most people who work for her should abstain from alcohol.

Chelsea's family arrived together in Cabo. Leading the pack was her four-year-old niece, Charley. I hadn't met Charley yet and I was really excited to, because I'd heard so much about her. I bent down to her level, tried to ignore the pain in my lower spine, stuck out my hand, and said, "It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Charley. I've heard so much about you."

Charley looked at me and replied, "Am I supposed to know who you are?"

It was love at first insult. Any four-year-old who could give me s.h.i.+t was someone I definitely wanted to hang out with. That really goes for Chelsea's whole family. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that Chelsea has the world's greatest family. My My family thinks that's rude to say, but most likely they won't be reading this, since they aren't super interested in what I do. All of Chelsea's brothers and sisters are funny and kind, and they've always been nothing but wonderful to me. I like to think of myself as their adopted sister, even though when I suggested this, they said that if they had the option to adopt me, they would not. Their family is big; I guess there isn't much room for one more. family thinks that's rude to say, but most likely they won't be reading this, since they aren't super interested in what I do. All of Chelsea's brothers and sisters are funny and kind, and they've always been nothing but wonderful to me. I like to think of myself as their adopted sister, even though when I suggested this, they said that if they had the option to adopt me, they would not. Their family is big; I guess there isn't much room for one more.

For the rest of the Cabo trip I was attached at the hip to the Handlers. Well... every one of them except Chelsea's brother Roy. He had a strange way of interacting with me. He was around me a lot, but I felt like he thought he had to be. Don't get me wrong; he was always nice, but most babysitters are. When he spoke to me, he addressed me as if I were a two-year-old. He would talk very slowly and then ask me if I understood.

"W-e'-r-e g-o-i-n-g t-o t-h-e p-o-o-l n-o-w, E-v-a. Do you want to get your bathing suit and come to the pool with us, Eva? Swimming is fun. Does Eva like swimming, too?"

I couldn't figure out if he was repeating my name for fear of forgetting it; I heard that some people use that as a memory trick. I also wasn't sure why he spoke so slowly, especially since I'd seen him interact with everybody else like a normal person. He even spoke to little Charley as if she were a grown woman. I have since recognized that Charley is a lot more mature than I am, but at the time, my feelings were hurt. Roy was always taking my hand and patting me on the back, saying, "G-o-o-d j-o-b," even if all I did was walk down a couple of steps.

On the last day in Cabo, Roy was nice enough to take me parasailing. He said that he'd heard I wanted to go, which I didn't, but I felt that it would have been rude to say no to his generous offer. I thought maybe he loved parasailing and was using me as an excuse to go. We headed to the beach. I noticed that Roy was carrying Charley's arm floaters and wondered if he was afraid of deep water. We got to the boat that was waiting to take us out into the ocean. Just as I started to board, Roy put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me.

"Shouldn't you take off your legs and leave them at the dock? The water is probably not good for the wood."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Don't be scared. I brought arm floaties for extra safety," he said to me with a concerned look.

His odd behavior toward me suddenly made sense. Chelsea was busted. I made Roy spill the lie that Chelsea had told him about me. Prior to the Cabo trip, she had informed him that I was mentally disabled. As the story went, I was born in a Polish hospital and when I was delivered my umbilical cord was wrapped around my Polack neck. They were able to save me, but because of the amount of time I spent without air, I couldn't function at full capacity. The story didn't quite satisfy her, so she threw in that I had fake legs and loved water sports. Chelsea told Roy that she found out about my fake legs when I was on a trip with her in the Bahamas and wanted to go down a waterslide. According to her, I had to take my fake legs off and send them down the slide first.

Her story was so convincing that in order to prove to Roy that my legs were real I had to allow him to burn me with a cigarette. It wasn't until the tears started flowing that he was satisfied that my legs were made of my own flesh and blood.

Aside from my posture, Chelsea has always been very concerned with my s.e.x life. Let me rephrase that: she has always been concerned about me and my lack of anything that remotely resembles what some might call a s.e.x life.

Brad, Roy, and me heading to Cabo. You can see my leg naturally goes in different directions from my body. I believe Chelsea saw this and capitalized on it. Brad, Roy, and me heading to Cabo. You can see my leg naturally goes in different directions from my body. I believe Chelsea saw this and capitalized on it.

Hamlet Hamlet I loved working for Chelsea and wanted to stay focused. Having a guy to worry about was the last thing I needed. Word on the street was that Hamlet, the security guard, liked me, so at least I had something something going. going.

One night I stayed late to organize Chelsea's nail polish colors. She walked into the office and I proudly whipped open her makeup drawer.

"Ta-da!" I exclaimed with pride. "Looks like somebody's somebody's manicures will be operating with a new level of professional efficiency!" manicures will be operating with a new level of professional efficiency!"

Chelsea stopped, looked at the drawer, and then looked at me. "This looks like the work of someone who needs to get laid," she said and then walked out.

From that point on she became relentless, pitching me to any and all male candidates. If you were a heteros.e.xual male and came to our office anytime during the fall of 2009, Chelsea asked you to have s.e.x with me. She was always on the lookout. Crew guys, bartenders, busboys-you name 'em, she offered me up to them. Still, I was a big disappointment to her; I was always too busy rearranging her bookshelves and secretly sc.r.a.pbooking to focus on my own s.e.xual needs.

One night, during a stop in Austin on Chelsea's "Bang Bang" tour, she was having dinner with her friend Johnny and her opener, Jo Koy. I had pa.s.sed on the meal and opted to stay in the hotel room and color-code the clothes in Chelsea's suitcase. Jo asked why I hadn't joined them for dinner, and a light bulb went off in Chelsea's head.

"Oh, she can't sit still long enough to eat a full meal. Eva gets super h.o.r.n.y on the road," she told Jo.

Johnny has been around Chelsea long enough to know the game, so he chimed in immediately. "Yeah, I banged her a couple of times in San Jose," he added.

Jo was really confused. He and I had known each other for a really long time. We went way back, to when he used to do stand-up at the Denver club I worked in. He didn't think this sounded like me at all. In fact, he thought I was kind of standoffish.

"Really?" Jo asked. "She doesn't seem like she sleeps around like that."

"Oh, yeah, that's her thing," Chelsea told him. "She acts like she's a good girl, but she porks everybody. It gets worse when we're on the road. I think it has something to do with hotels and something that went down when she was in elementary school. Eva is pretty wound up, and s.e.x is the only thing that seems to take the edge off for her."

"That's really surprising. I thought she was uptight." Jo still couldn't wrap his head around the new information.

"She used to be uptight, until she started doing a.n.a.l," Chelsea fired back.

Chelsea and Johnny continued to tell Jo Koy all about my s.e.xual escapades. Chelsea told him that I had pretty much had s.e.x with everybody at the office. She said that sometimes Chris Franjola took a turn. If Chris was too wiped out from meeting up with girls on Facebook, then Ian the PA took care of my needs. Chelsea explained to Jo that she wasn't really an advocate of my behavior, but that I obviously had some sort of medical condition and s.e.x was the only way I could be satiated. After all, I worked for her now, and she wanted what was best for her employees. If constant porking was what kept me alert, then constant porking it would be. She also told him that I had even gone so far as to sleep with Jeremy, the guy at the office who everyone was certain had never taken a shower.

Here's where the story takes a twist that even Chelsea couldn't have antic.i.p.ated: Jo Koy and I had just started dating at the time. I hadn't had the chance to tell Chelsea about it yet; it was pretty new. Honestly, I was avoiding telling her. That turned out to be a big mistake, because it turns out that she actually encourages inter-office romance. Jo was texting me throughout the entire dinner, but was not mentioning any of the things Chelsea was saying to him. He was obviously afraid to rattle my cage, for fear that one mean text from him would send me into a fury and I'd screw the bellhop.

Later that night, he called me and grilled me about my supposed s.e.xual disorder.

"Really? Jeremy? That guy probably hasn't bathed in six months! Last time I saw him he had nacho cheese in his beard and when I asked him about it he said he hadn't had nachos in three weeks!"

"Have you ever been tested? Do I need to get tested?" Jo was concerned.

It took me a while to understand what he was upset about and even longer to calm him down. After four hours of talking, he finally understood that he was just another victim of a lie that Chelsea Handler had told.

It's hard to find a way to get back at Chelsea for the pranks she's pulled. Every time anyone has tried they've failed. She's too smart to fall for it, so you really have to go behind her back and through other channels.