Fulfilling my Media Whore Quota for the Week Month Year?? ... Nah. Just the Month.
Julia and Brooke
We were going for "Smoldering Temptress." Brooke won. By a LOT.
10 Things I Accomplished Last Evening at the Spy Magazine Retrospective Something-or-Other-Book-Party-Thing:
- Put on real clothing (not pajamas) and actually left apartment (getting cookies at bodega notwithstanding).
- Discussed the pain-in-the-ass-ed-ness of buying aforementioned "real clothing" with one now-4-Times-Square-worker Jess Coen. Mentioned for the fifth time how, when drunk on Halloween, I begged her to be my friend. She told me to drop it, already. Crap.
- Admired the headband (??) tribal gear (??) of Mediabistro's Dylan Stableford. No banal baseball caps for this guy, unlike #9!
- Eschewing normal boundaries of "personal space," hugged Gawker associate editor Doree Sharfir to thank her for the SUPER-sweet posts last week. Awesome!! Maybe we can hang out sometime and braid each other's hair!!!
- Speaking of hair, gazed at Graydon Carter's from afar. Wondered if he's just adverse to cutting it or maybe channeling an older-whiter-version of Malcolm Gladwell? Hmm. Cute wife, though.
- Stood within one foot of Anna Wintour, clad in boots and fur-ish coat-ish. Felt a little shaky. Hope she didn't notice I was wearing Bebe.
- Babbled to Kurt Andersen about how I "circle the words I don't know" in his NY magazine columns. Him: "Well, at least you read them." Uh, hel-lo, Kurt, I didn't say anything about reading them!
- Ran after Candace Bushnell to thank her half-sarcastically for getting me into this stinking profession. Me: "I can't seem to get any respect!" Her: "No attractive woman gets respect until the age of 35." And I'm sure wearing condom costumes for Halloween doesn't help either.
- Stood by as Ron Perelman, clad casually in a non-descript orange baseball cap, ran some game on my rather buxom blonde wingwoman Brooke Parkhurst (see photo above) ... Him: "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Brooke: "Um ... no?" Him: "I'm Ron Perelman." Awww, Ron!! C'mon. REALLY?? I mean, he could have said "Wow, you look like a younger version of all four of my ex-wives!! Want to date me? And by the way, I'm Really Really Rich!" But he didn't. In any case, being rather incorrigibly obnoxious, I stood between Ron and his chosen one, and egged on by my one cocktail, proceeded to TOTALLY DOMINATE THE CONVERSATION. Ron immediately asked if I was Jewish. I took that to mean he liked me. 1/2 counts, right? Score one for the Tribe!
- Finally, I slapped Radar gossipista (and I do mean "ista") Jeff Bercovici multiple times for confusing "on" with "off" the record. Then we made up. Because when it really comes down to it, I'm a spineless pussy.
Take that, gossip bitch!
Okay, now let's be friends again. But I'm NOT smiling.
