Rather than grab my ass, he smoked a cigarette with me and marveled at my belly-button ring.
Christian Slater was arrested for sexual harassment in the summer of '05. He had allegedly been drunk and grabbed some random New York woman's ass on one of NYC's sidewalks, and the woman was not pleased. I couldn't help but think that if Brad Pitt had grabbed my ass in the middle of the street, I would not tattle to CNN. Rather, I'd enjoy the fact that Brad Pitt's hand was on my ass.
Now, although I've never been a Christian Slater fan (this woman was in her 30s, so she had clearly seen _Heathers_ or whatever it was that made him famous in the '80s, meaning she probably remembered him as a teen idol from back in the day), why not enjoy the moment, lady? Why so uptight?
Regardless, I was done with my freshman year of college that same summer, and according to the Bible, I was officially going to hell. Since I was already going to hell, I didn't see the harm in "borrowing" my older friend's ID and heading to the little neighborhood lounge my dad owns in "Hell's Kitchen":http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hell%27s_Kitchen,_Manhattan in order to acquire a harmless little buzz.
I was quietly enjoying my mango martini when all of a sudden, there he was in the flesh: Christian Slater, standing right in front of my eyes. I decided to play it cool, so I calmly headed outside for a cigarette (all the cool kids do it). All of a sudden, I noticed I was being followed by none other than Mr. Ass Grabber himself. That's right. Christian Slater, I imagined, was drunk; he was going to grab my ass, and I was not about to have any qualms about it.
Up close, the guy wasn't anything special. He was half-balding and he was about my height, so clearly he was no Brad Pitt. But still, the whole thing was still cool and I was not about to tattle if he chose to go for a squeeze.
Rather than grab my ass, he smoked a cigarette with me and marveled at my belly-button ring. He told me his name was Michael or something stupid, and I pretended to believe him because I didn't want to scare him off. Anyway, this happened three years ago, so either I left first or he left first for whatever reason, but there was no ass grabbing going on, and I was very disappointed.
Fuck celebrities. I was ready to return to school and the land of Penn State's frat-tastic boys. Somewhere out there on frat row, there were loads of guys just begging to grab my drunk ass. Take that, Christian Slater.