Don't have an account yet? Get the most out of your experience with a personalized all-access pass to everything local on events, music, restaurants, news and more. Nothing -- and I mean nothing -- was off limits last night at Bass Hall. Joan Rivers joked about it all, from falling vaginas to fat people needing two airline seats to Michael Jackson kiddie sleepovers.
By Melissa Whitworth. A butler in a starched white jacket opens the door of the palatial apartment in Upper East Side, New York, that is home to Joan Rivers. Two small dogs start yapping. In shuffles the self-anointed queen of comedy — 47 years in the business and counting — and ushers me into a ramshackle, but still grand, library with an open fire.