Better than: Sitting on your coslopus at home and watching Chelsea Lately with your little nugget.
Chelsea Handler strode onto the Masonic Auditorium stage Friday night in fuck-me boots, impossibly tight jeans, and a gray and white silk blouse. While the amped-up crowd cheered and screamed, she grabbed her mike and threw the stand aside. With a moue of distaste, she used her red plastic cup – presumably filled with vodka, her beverage of choice – to knock a bottle of water from a stool onto the ground. “Won't be needing that tonight,” her look said.
Handler started the show by apologizing for letting herself be booked into a venue that doesn't serve alcohol, and said she left a voicemail for Mayor Gavin Newsom to see if he could rectify the situation. Alas, Hizzoner seemed not to have gotten the message, so “I'll make it up to you,” she promised.
Hecklers and rabid fans alike were treated to withering stares or sharp putdowns as she stalked the stage. However, Handler's disdain seemed to come and go. When audience members yelled that they loved her, sometimes she hissed, “Shut up,” other times she offered a demure “Thank you.” She teased a group of women in the front row and told them she loved them, but while they were still squealing and applauding, she walked away and rolled her eyes to the rest of the audience. We laughed at her, and by extension at them. We felt slightly mean doing it, but she clearly didn't.