Randomness and K-List Celeb Sightings

Last night, I wasted no time in getting back into the swing of New York life. I had an invitation to attend a party compliments of my old job, with free food and free wine and fashion people, which equals, eat for free, drink for free and watch the freak parade.

It did not disappoint. I got there around 7 when the party was in full swing. The food was not as prevalent as one would hope…but the wine was, and I was proud of myself for checking out after 2 glasses. The first K-list celeb sighting was Angie Everhart, who was the “host” of the party. You know what really sucks? To be an older, white, former supermodel. White people just do not age as gracefully as other races, and this is never more evident than in the supermodel. Angie is still really pretty, her plastic surgeon has taken care of that, but it just so happens that I was watching TV the other day and something about Iman and David Bowie came on, and I was thinking to myself, oh to be Ethiopian and look beautiful forever…and sure enough, just a few days later Angie proves me right. I guess the good lesson to gleam from seeing her is that being a supermodel may be awesome in your teens and 20s, but after that, you’re just like the rest of us. Some may call that poetic justice. I just call it awesome.

Anyways, then Am. came and we left to go meet up with some new friends on the UWS. It was kind of random because we had met a few people at a bar two weeks ago, and thought they were cool, and then one of the kids texted Am. to come meet up with him and his other friends last night. So we said, why not? And sure enough, it was really fun. I had my second K-list celeb sighting, the actress Michael Michelle having dinner with some young, gay-looking, guy. She is stunning, which just also further proves my theory above, even though Michael Michelle was not a model, it’s the same difference.

Anyways, I had a cucumber martini that deserved a standing ovation for deliciousness…and then got into a really fun conversation with a kid who knew Miami Beach, Boca and the J-Shore as much as I do…so our conversation including everything from the career hooker at the Fontainebleau Hotel that I met once (who may or may not have been his 90-year-old grandmother, at least that’s the theory I threw out there), the best Jewish delis in Boca, and guidos at the J-Shore. Good times. I then met a girl who is a forensic pathologist, and promptly engaged her in a conversation about CSI techniques, doing autopsies, how good of a Medical Examiner I would make, and other forensic items of interest. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when she told me a story on how she had ripped out a man’s balls from the inside of his body, after he was dead. Not because I want any man’s balls ripped out from the inside (only maybe a couple of guys I know deserve this), but because I need a hero.