Here is the Tarantino pedovore story

You are either getting this e-mail because I've promised I would tell you this story and haven't yet, you're besties with someone I used to hook up with, or because my need for attention and adulation has reached such an all time high that I decided to pick 15 of you at random to listen to this story (most likely explanation), but all the same, below is the (in)famous but true story of how I met Quentin Tarantino…Adam and Ethan, I'll be expecting your short film script of this in my inbox in the next couple of weeks…

Wednesday, June 1st, 2011:

Get a BBM at 8 in the morning from my friend Nicki telling me we're going to a party in "the Hills" that night because the Yankees were in town. But this party now presents a conundrum as a) I didn't know people partied on Wednesdays because I'm uncool and b) I had just run out of clean underwear and hadn't shaved my legs in three days, so I wasn't really in a "party" sort of place. (what's that you say? You're surprised I'm single?) However, after being told to grow a pair, I decided to join the girls after work for this fiesta.

Party time rolls around that evening and despite being a Wednesday, and based on how many trashy girls in short dresses there are, it looks like the inside of any club in Las Vegas has vomited inside this music producer's home. Minus all the hordes of Asians you get in real Las Vegas. I spend my first hour at this party irritated at having to even be there, and then telling the Yankees picture Joba Chamberlain how he'll never be as great as my beloved Brian Wilson. I think he may have called me a lesbian as I was walking away, but I guess you can't blame him since I did choose to wear pants. Anyways, I digress.

Heading back inside, bored out of mind, I look over and notice Jamie Foxx and Quentin Tarantino have joined the melee. Joy. Two more people at this party who could not give a shit about who I am. I go back to texting in the corner while stuffing my face with a hot dog. About an hour later I'm making a drink and realize the pasty tall fellow pouring orange juice into my glass is the man himself, QT. Realizing I kind of have to go for at it this point, in all my nerd glory blurt out: "I'm sure everyone tells you this but I fucking loved Reservoir Dogs. I watched it when I was 11 for my school newspaper, and it's badass." He starts laughing, thanks me, pleasantries are exchanged about how I was clearly a fucked up 11 year old for watching Reservoir Dogs, and we start what appears it might be a delightful little chat about film. Until this happens:

Quentin: Wow so you really loved Reservoir Dogs, huh? Which of my other films do you like?

(this blatant arrogance is the type of douchebaggery that really gets my gourd about Hollywood, so now my film boner has turned to film hate fuck, and I feel the need to cheekily undermine Quentin.)

Me: Oh wow. You know, I really didn't like Kill Bill…

Quentin: What? What do you mean? 1 or 2?

Me: Ehh, a little bit of both. I just didn't care for them.

Quentin: Wow…I don't think anyone has said that to my face about my seminal films.

Me: Perhaps it's because you call them your seminal films. Shouldn't you wait for someone else to say that?

Quentin: You know, you've got a mouth on you. I like that.

At this point, QT puts an arm around me and I'm acutely aware that Quentin Tarantino has an arm around me. As are my four friends, who are all looking at me as if I have grown a second head. To be fair, I am easily the most uncool out of all my friends (I go to Q's in Brentwood four nights a week), so the fact that anyone even mildly famous wants to speak to me is pretty shocking. He's chatting with my friends and I like it's no big deal, I am pretending like this happens every night of my life, and out of nowhere he leans in for the makeout. Yes. True story. I am pulling a frat move and making out in a crowded kitchen with Quentin Fucking Tarantino. I cannot stop laughing AS this is happening, mainly because I see my friends Nicki and Jen literally gag behind Quentin's head, and I really am doing this for the story at this point. We make out some more, take a walk, keep making out, get more drinks, lather, rinse, repeat. Believe me when I say I'm not bragging, because..well…have you looked at a photo of Quentin Tarantino recently?

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https://www.tmz.com/2025/04/22/director-quentin-tarantino-dead/