The Worst of While You Were Sleeping: Gary Coleman, Whores, and Naked Pictures of Your Sister
"While You Were Sleeping" wasn't just a graffiti magazine, it covered everything from Gary Coleman to porn. "The Worst of While You Were Sleeping" is a 496-page book compiling every issue and insane moment of the magazine's history.
Do you know how many times I had to explain to people what While You Were Sleeping was? I would have to say, “Well, you know that magazine VICE?” Then I’d talk about how we were different but we weren’t, and that I thought VICE was cool.
To be 100 percent honest I had no idea what VICE was when I started WYWS in 1997 out of my childhood bedroom in Bethesda, Maryland. It was about a year until I figured out what was VICE was. In the years since 1997 a lot has happened in my life and WYWS is long gone, but VICE is still kicking people’s asses.
WYWS was beyond fun—it was fucking awesome, sort of like my college education, complete with slutty sorority girls. So I decided to do something stupid, to drag WYWS out one last time. Out now is a 500-page hardbound book called The Worst of While You Were Sleeping. It has some of our best stories, expanded content, notes, and memories from the people who made it, and lots of slutty chicks.
WYWS was pretty much a way for my friends and I to write about whatever we wanted—the stuff we loved. It didn’t have to make sense. And hell, we didn’t even need to know how to write. I present to you here a few of my favorite spreads from the book and some stories to go with them.
I went to high school with Vince—a football star jock, girls loved him, his parents let him have drinking parties. He was awesome. He went to college and continued to be awesome and still is to this day. He sent me a text message at 7 AM yesterday asking for a lawyer recommendation because this “Dumb ass marina fucked up his boat.”
This story is 100 percent real. I actually visited him a bunch and saw some of this shit go down. Vince became a full-fledged active member of his fraternity and after five years he was eventually asked to leave due to excessive hazing, including taking a pledge’s brand new sports car and crashing it at 60 miles per hour into a parked Pathfinder, telling the unfortunate freshman as he walked away, “Call your insurance company.”
I had an ALF poster in my room in grade school. I don’t know why I ever got rid of it. ALF is the man. He does awesome shit. I had a magazine, so why shouldn’t I take a bunch of pictures of ALF off the world wide web and have Fat Rich write an exposé on him? Still seems logical. I have heard for years that there is an ALF movie in the works. Let's pray to baby Jesus that it is real. Willie ended up being a crackhead or something like that. Don’t forget that!
Tammy and Shiloh and Dr. Phil and AVN aka Las Vegas Porn Convention
I learned about Tammy, Shiloh, and Phil in an article in the Washington City Paper and I was pretty inspired that there were some porn entrepreneurs living close by. I contacted them and set up an interview but it was rescheduled many times.
Finally, I ended up at their house late one night. There was a Dream Team tow truck parked in the driveway, and I found out later that they had a towing company on the side. Inside, the house was super messy and cluttered. Phil, who was the director, producer, and male talent, was also the editor of the films. The amount of computer and film equipment he had scattered around the house was ridiculous.
I went on to become friends with them and they contributed an advice column to WYWS. For some reason they thought I was funny and they took me with them to the AVN Adult Expo to help them interview porn chicks for a video magazine they were working on. I don’t even think I was 21 yet. I stayed in a Best Western with them in a room with two double beds. I was in one bed and the three of them were in the other. At the convention I had a lot of porn stars draw pictures for me, which I still have. After Vegas we drove up to Reno to spend several days interviewing Dennis Hof and the women of the Moonlight Bunny Ranch. That story is in this book too!
I have been obsessed with Gary Coleman my whole life. I wanted to feature him in WYWS, but he wasn’t doing much with his life at the time, and he wasn’t easy to dig up. Miraculously, my friend and contributor Shawna found him. The Big GC and I developed a longstanding relationship, and I wish I could find the emails between us. They were—well … that’s private!
A year or so later I got the idea—probably the best idea I had in my entire life—of renting Gary Coleman to go to the MAGIC tradeshow with us to promote what he thought he was going to, which was a Magic: The Gathering convention. When we picked him up at the airport in a big Suburban filled with chicks, Gary kept trying to get them to take their shirts off. During MAGIC, Gary worked hard and pushed WYWS to the masses. The few days with him were priceless. I will cherish the moments forever. You guys see Angels in The Outfield?
I was so excited to interview Gwar. I remember getting the Hell-O! tape in sixth grade and being blown away. Now I was going to meet them. I still bump it on my Walkman. Seriously, Gwar is the shit, they kick ass. I fucking love Gwar. Check the picture of me my mom took in 1992 after a Gwar show.
Pat the Party Jerk
It was late one night and we needed to fill space. Trevor Michaels was at my house getting drunk as usual and slurred out the words, “Let me write something.” I am proud to say that all of the stories in the 20-plus “Pat the Party Jerk” columns are real things that happened to Trevor. Many times we didn’t even change the names to protect the victims.
This one is about dating whores. Something I feel that my friends and I have become experts at. A good piece of advice from the article to tell if a girl is a whore: “Your friend from another school has heard about her.” You know that is magic, baby! Even after WYWS Trevor continued to amaze me with his feats, many that you can read about in the book, as he has lots of guest appearances.
Trevor was an amazing person. We miss him. RIP.
People’s Naked Sisters
In 1994, I started selling caps (graffiti supplies). I was 16. By 1997, I was selling a LOT of caps. Like truckloads of caps. I started placing ads for my caps in other graffiti magazines and in my own magazine. I decided to use boobs and half-naked girls to make my ads more attractive. It wasn’t very hard to find models—all of the cap ads had a tag line “NAKED CHICK FLICKS = FREE TIPS.”
Every few days I would be graced with some new photos of naked chicks, from the beautiful to the disturbing. Of course, the more disturbing the better, and the more free caps the sender would get. Honorable mentions to whoever sent in the photos of chicks in an anorexia clinic and the naked dude standing next to a Christmas tree with a bow over his dick.
What was I going to do with all these images? Print a lot of them, of course! The column People’s Naked Sisters was born. I think it was sort of a hit—an idea almost as good as renting Gary Coleman. Yep, I still have all the photo albums.
I don’t watch much reality television (but I do watch a ton of television) but I hear shows about storage space auctions are all the rage. We did this article before America’s Got Talent and all that other crap was even on the air. We got so much tight shit for like $60. Highlights included ketchup and other condiments that must have been like 200 years old and a laptop from 1955.
I have watched the movie Cool As Ice hundreds of times. It is amazing. Have you seen it?