“Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, step right up and see the pretty ladies in their tight dresses who haven’t eaten in a week. Now direct your attention the handsome men in the penguin black and whites with extra shirt starch…”

It’s a big top of a different sort: the Red Carpet that would typically make the Ringling Brothers, and even P.T. Barnum himself, jealous and proud. Like any good traveling show, the red carpet features the meandering erotic creature in need of a stiff crack of the public relations whip.

‘Crack’ snaps the Blackberry and iPhones as the sage trainers tenderly nudge the A-listers towards the Access Hollywood crew and the C-listers towards the Channel 5 Des Moines Iowa news team. Only the experienced media maniacs can handle the demands of escorting media darlings such as Kim Kardashian, Leonardo DiCaprio and Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt.

Inside the agency, the handler is treated with apathy by the higher-ups. Down in the trenches, the negotiations and positioning begins. For many, it will be one of their highest-profile assignments as they transform into ninja-mode ,blending into the sea of press, fans and peers. Staying invisible is the key, because we know that any good publicist would be razzed mercilessly if they became the story.

My first red carpet experience was in 1998, babysitting Brooke Burke and Yasmine Bleeth at consecutive events. I was merely a kid back then. It was the most invigorating time of my life as The Media Guy turned publicist. These ladies were the hot ticket and everyone wanted a piece of them. In front of the cameras, they were a dream. Behind the scenes? Well, that’s another story. 

Truth is, that on those burgundy fibers that shine amber under foot, it’s a mosh pit with a wave of stars set to swallow you up as you crowdsurf into the main event. You have to channel your inner gladiator to survive such days, serving simultaneously as dark-attired guide dog and psychiatrist.

Every quality handler, er, publicist, knows three things:

And, point #3 is the subject of another blog. Later. Much later.

My cape needed cleaning so I stopped by the mailbox. There it was, the dinosaur of communications: a hand-written note. Yes snail mail, not an e-mail or a text–an enigmatic scribble that has spun my mind in a million directions.

Hey, Mo-Mo.

Remember when I came up with that nickname for you? Oh, I do, believe me it was a pretty hilarious moment on set. So I saw you in Downtown today, but (and I guess this is probably as weird for you as it is for me) you didn’t say “hello.” I know, I know, you were in a hurry, and that peculiar clammy hobo with the mullet was like, “hey, you, let’s hug it out, cuz I hear you’re cool with mullet guy.” I could totally see how taken aback you were when he moved in for the hug. I remarked how nice of you to give him some greenbacks and your Twitter address. No one ever pointed the finger at you to say you didn’t go the extra mile to make people feel at ease.

Really, I was just hoping you’d recognize me from those wild Vegas nights where you protected me from the sins of the city. I was hoping the next time we happen to bump into each other at some hip night spot in the city, you’d be like, “Oh, snap. Is that her?” Yeah, but I guess you didn’t see me, cause you had a white-guy mullet slopped across your line of sight. But even if you didn’t see me, I was surprised you didn’t hear me run into that hot-dog cart trying to track you down. Don’t worry, I’m fine. My hand got a bit steamed from the bun warmer, but whatevah. Maybe you could come by before you swing out East Coast style, you know, rub some aloe or something on the burn. No need to bring your own. I’ve got a plant.

Alright, boyfriend, just so you know, when you’re back in Manhattan, holla at your girl, you know. But if you can’t make it to the city, that’s cool too. We still might get to hang…call me!

Love, Loco-motion

As I searched my database wondering who might have penned this note, I wondered aloud where the term ‘snap’ came from. I hear it a lot lately. Did it come from Legally Blonde or one of those Barbershop/Beauty Shop movies? I’m sure you have heard it too; an expression along the lines of “Oh SNAP! THAT’S OFF THE FREAKING HOOK! Can you please put it back on the hook? It may lose its battery power, and I charged it for hours. Thank you.”

All of these new acronyms, phrases and what-not create a definite issue when writing ad copy and commercials. Who can you reach and how to reach them reminds me of that Orbitz commercial where they lined up all of those phrases into one tight little 30-second spot. Here are some of the greatest ones I’ve heard lately:

o       Keep f***ing that chicken (KFTC) – a phrase coined by Fox New York television anchor as a phrase of encouragement similar to keep on truckin’… KFTC is a gesture of support to the recipient to continue doing whatever it is that they’re doing, despite what others may say, so long as it makes them happy.

o       Husband Chair – the chair in the women’s section of a department store where a guy waits it out while his wife/girlfriend tries on forty different dresses and blouses.

o       Cobra Yawn – often seen at networking events where there’s a lot of involuntary spraying of saliva while yawning, similar to the venom spray from a cobra.

There’s the dilemma. What to work in, because after all, once you’ve developed your story and pitch it to the client, you can’t just change midstream if you get the computer-face. You know that squint/frown you make when you look at your computer to give the illusion that you are very busy analyzing something vital to your work. If you do ever get stuck when they look confused, arrogantly explain what your word or phrase means with a look that says “Seriously…you’ve never heard that before? What rock do you live under?” Your confidence in using your term is paramount to making it catch on. People are sheep. If they think everyone else says it, they’ll say it too.

Now…time to find out who Loco-motion is…