I was actually pretty stoked to come across this video of James Franco partying at the FSU PIKE house last week with DJ Carnage and I’ll tell you why (before I tell you my weird James Franco story down below). This might sound odd but I’m still friends with one of my college professors on Facebook, also, I went to FSU. So last week I saw this professor posting photos of him interviewing James Franco and it was getting hundreds of likes and comments. (1) I was worried that James Franco rolled into Tallahassee and didn’t get a chance to see how hard FSU parties and (2) I thought it was weird how people were making such a big deal out of this professor interviewing James Franco. Now I’ll tell you why the latter was confusing to me.
A few years back I got to go to the Cannes Film Festival with Stella Artois and ol’ James Franco was on my flight from JFK to Nice, France. We took the red eye flight and when we took off my Tampa Bay Rays were playing the New York Yankees, and I forget why I was so interested in the score of that game but I was. So flash forward to about 7 or 8 hours later, I’m waiting for my car to pick me up from the Nice Côte d’Azur International Airport and I look to my right to see James Franco standing there messing around on his Blackberry (the dude didn’t even have an iPhone!). So I ask him if he knew what the score of last night’s Yankees-Rays game was and he looks at me like I’m speaking French. I remind him that he’s wearing a Yankees hat, he looks a little embarrassed but shrugs it off as his car arrived at that moment.
Flash forward to about 20 hours later. I’m guessing that James got a nap in sometime during that stretch of time while I was over in Cannes popping a 20mg adderall every 6 hours between bottles of champagne and chalices of Stella Artois (thanks again Stella for footing the bill of that entire trip!). It’s about 2am at the Grand-Hôtel du Cap-Ferrat, in Antibes, and James Franco comes rolling in to the Vanity Fair party with the oldest chick I’ve ever seen on his arms. Now what I didn’t mention above was that I was wearing a tuxedo at this point because we went to the red carpet premiere of Fair Game (starring Naomi Watts and Sean Penn), that movie about Valerie Plame.
So at the moment that Franco walks into the greatest party I’ve ever been at in my entire life I’m talking to this runway model from Miami who introduced me to one of the Victoria’s Secret models at this party. I’ve got my arm around the girl from Miami as we were cheersing for some reason, and as Franco passes I say ‘hey, by the way, your Yankees got their asses whooped last night’ because I finally got in wi-Fi earlier in the day and was able to look up the score. The wave of comprehension washes over Franco and I can see his face go askew while thinking ‘SERIOUSLY, who in the fuck is this guy and why do I keep seeing him???’ Meanwhile the two models think that I somehow know James Franco, and they both ask me if I can introduce them. It was at that moment that I realized I was peaking and I’d never look that cool at a party again. So I went to the bar to get us another round of champagne and on the way to the bar I managed to photobomb Paris Hilton, which is actually the only photographic proof I have of that night. If you’re looking up the party though it was the Hotel du Cap, and it was the party that Lindsay Lohan chose to attend instead of flying back to America for a court appointment, and it was the beginning of her demise as a Hollywood sweetheart. Anyways, here’s me and Paris Hilton, and I look like a complete tool:
Cass Anderson
All of this happened, Scout’s Honor.
The End.
P.s., GO NOLES.