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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:

  1. Put on real clothing (not pajamas) and actually left apartment (getting cookies at bodega notwithstanding).
  2. 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.
  3. Admired the headband (??) tribal gear (??) of Mediabistro's Dylan Stableford.  No banal baseball caps for this guy, unlike #9!
  4. 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!!!
  5. 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.
  6. 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.
  7. 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!
  8. 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.
  9. 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!
  10. 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.

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