So he did what any reasonable person who was getting a lot of calls at all hours of the night would do:
One night Gray and his girlfriend, who live in the very un-Hollywood Huntington Beach, were out to dinner when a text appeared: "Hey, babe. I'm having my birthday party tonight at a house in the hills. Let me know if you can make it. Love and kisses."
Gray wrote back: "Awesome, hon. What's the address?"
Immediately, Gray's staring at an address; he exhibited the necessary adventurousness and chutzpah: "Cool, I have a few friends I want to meet me there, can you get them on the list? Bob Gray directed that Bigfoot movie, released by Troma, and Liza Foster's the lead actress. They have their lawyer Barry Davis with them. They're very cool. Is that all right?"
Soon, Gray and Foster were outside an imposing, rented mansion way up in the Hollywood Hills, going through a Secret Service-type security line.
"It's Mercedes, Maseratis and limos, and we're in our Dodge minivan with Ohio plates. They've got those little wrist walkie-talkies and earpieces and the guy's like, 'Who're you?'
"I'm Bob Gray.
"He goes, 'Hang on.'
"We're wondering if we're really on the list.
"The guy comes back: 'Yeah. You're on the list.' I think he was amazed."
There they were, at Paris Hilton's 30th-birthday party, with fire and waterfalls and girls dancing behind smoked-glass windows, with amazing cocktails and food, all of it tied to a Moulin Rouge theme.
"We went up there and hugged her and thanked her for inviting us," he says. "She was real nice. It was great."
Of course someone like Gray, who gets off by hanging with the likes of Andy Dick, thinks stories like this are moving him on up. Bob? Sorry, that's an autokinetic effect bro.
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