Finally, a funny link that encourages active participation.
It starts with this article in the Los Angeles Times, a recent interview with once-troubled actor Robert Downey Jr. Scroll to the bottom to read a tidbit about the actor's Hollywood beginnings, staying at the Chateau Marmont with James Spader.
For some reason, the gossip and celebrity criticism blog Defamer finds this information to be a comedy gold mine, given the bad boy pasts of the two actors and the hotel's sordid history. In this entry Defamer attempts to fill in the blanks of what might have happened back then, and suggests that others try to do the same in a manner much like that tacky joke in The Aristocrats.
Indeed, the author of a blog called The Crime Spree has already contributed his version. The rules are simple. Start the story with "So there I was at the Chateau Marmont with 17-year-old Robert Downey, Jr. and Jimmy Spader." End the story with "Hey, that's drugs." Write what you like in between.
Here's my attempt.
So there I was at the Chateau Marmont with a 17-year-old Robert Downey, Jr. and Jimmy Spader. We're coked out of our minds and are throwing darts across the room at a poster of Phoebe Cates that Jimmy's put up on the door. We run out of darts but are temporarily incapacitated: I'm wedged between a pair of twin mattresses, Bobby's got blisters on his feet from dancing on the ledge that afternoon, and Jimmy can't even stand up without enduring a hellacious headrush. I'm about to break a few empty bottles of Lowenbrau so we can have something sharp, but then Jimmy finds a garbage bag by the couch full of old hypodermic needles. He tosses a few to Bobby and me and we keep playing. My throw is so far off the mark that when Bobby takes his turn, he's still laughing his head off and doesn't notice someone's opening the door. So Bobby throws his long-ass needle, and it sails straight through the hand of a very surprised Jon Cryer, who had a room down the hall. So Jon's looking at his impaled hand and screaming, and I hear Jimmy yelling out the window, hoping someone down in the courtyard will come up to help. Bobby's still laughing like a maniac and the sight of Jon's blood has made me pass out. To this day Jon's got to wear flesh-colored makeup to hide the giant scar, and he won't even talk to us. Hey, that's drugs.