Taming my demons is a tall order but I think I deserve a pat on the back. On Saturday night, I went to the "it" club in Los Angeles, stood in the midst of countless B-list celebrities and managed to keep my cool. My date was my friend Ursula whose parents prophetically named her after the first Bond girl(Ursula Andress). In other words, she's gorgeous. While other lesser mortals clamor for access to clubs, Ursula gets emails inviting her to grace them with her presence. Needless to say, it can be a humbling experience accompanying her on such outings.Saturday was once such night and we arrived in Hollywood for the Stuff Magazine party. There was a red carpet and lots of stalkarazzi. We didn't pause in front of the backdrop for pictures (as if..) but were led through the velvet rope while skanky ho's and starlets wondered who the hell we were. Once inside, we downed a couple of shots and started checking the place out. We were intercepted by a guido and would have kept walking were it not for his offer to partake in the bottle service he and his equally greasy friends had purchased in order to get in. (They must have done this fairly early because a group of guys ahead of us in the VIP line were denied after making a similar proposal to the bouncer.)Instantly, he started chatting up my Bond girl as I made myself comfortable on the couch. The big, ugly, hairy one parked himself beside me and so began the assault on my vanity. "You're friend is hot," he observed. Yes, I agreed, she's a pretty girl. "Do you get that a lot?" he asked. At this point, I had seen countless heads turn in her direction as we made our way through the club but was still hopeful that Vinny Barbarino was referring to my looks. "Do I get what a lot?" I unwittingly prompted.
"That your friends are hot," he said ogling. Suddenly, my head was pounding. Was it possible that this exercise in humility had given me an instant migraine? When I shared the contents of our conversation with Ursula, she took me by the arm, told Guido #1 that his friend lacked class and led me to the other side of the establishment.
Here, we were enjoying each other's company when I made the first of my star sightings. Ian Ziering of 90210 fame. Nonplussed, I pointed him out and Ursula nodded, carefully surveying the scene. Then I saw Jon Kelly, the weekend co-host of "Extra!" I felt comfortable approaching him because as a journalist (and I use that term loosely), he was a colleague. I introduced myself and he claimed that I looked familiar. I was doubtful but he was nice. Also, before he sold out to Extra he was a bona fide reporter in Chicago and other respectable local news markets. We quickly established a friend in common and then I introduced him to Ursula and he introduced us to his friend. This friend subsequently informed me that he was an "actor in the adult entertainment industry." Unfazed, I replied, "I thought you looked familiar." He laughed and made a point of telling Jon that I frequented the back of the video store. Just then, I looked behind my girlfriend and saw a swarm, a SWARM of random celebrities. As Ursula would later describe it, I temporarily lost the ability to form coherent sentences which she found more annoying than amusing.
But here is where you can be slightly impressed. Remember my previous accounts of obsequious behavior in the presence of celebrity? No evidence of that here! First I saw Brody Jenner (The Princes of Malibu). We made eye contact and I panicked but quietly reported the sighting. Then Stacy Keibler (Dancing With the Stars) who seemed really sweet but not enough to become my BFF for the evening. Then, Peter Krause (Six Feet Under)and the star who was two feet in front of me, Gina Gershon. Seeing her really got to me because I'm a huge Lenny Kravitz fan and they're really good friends. She was even in one of his videos so I was just thinking, OMG, one degree of separation. That's when my eyes grew wide causing Urs to ask, "What? Who?!" without turning around. "It's, umm, that girl..," I couldn't remember her name. "She's famous," I concluded soliciting an agitated huff and eye roll from Urs. But, I kept it together. Eventually, I consumed enough alcohol to warrant asking a really, really hot soap star to take a picture of me and my new found friends. I told Peter Krause that I was ridiculous but he should oblige anyway by posing with us. He laughed and I reminded him that it was rude to laugh at someone to their face. He agreed and then kept laughing. Then he came over and posed with us for a picture. Ahh, good times.
Currently, I'm in beautiful Dana Point, California. Today it was 88 degrees here while New Yorkers dealt with a pseudo gas leak. The news that threw the cable networks into a flurry of speculation about the root of the stench had most New Yorkers completely... oblivious. Even the live reporters had to concede that the majority of passers-by were "taking it in a stride." Umm, is it any surprise that people who are accustomed to being serenaded by heroin-addicted homeless people on the subway daily remained unaffected by a suspicious smell?
