Jan 18, 2011

"I still have my golden globes!" Part II

I've been trying to write this post for a good two days now and I keep deleting everything I've written because it really doesn't do the party justice.  I don't want to bore you guys to death, but I also think some of the crap we experienced was pure comedy, so I'll attempt one last time:

After finally finding the party, we slowly realized that our original assumptions were poor: this was not a Golden Globes party.  It was just a party thrown on the night of the Globes.  Great.  I'm not going to name who the sponsor of the party was because frankly I think they'd be embarrassed having their name associated with all that I'm about to speak of.

I went with my friend who had heard from the party from several people, namely this douchelord (she agrees) that she met a few weeks back.  She told me he was an investment banker.  Of course you know when a woman hears 'investment banker' her heart pitter patters a little and they get those dollar signs in their eyes.  However, looks and personality always prevail (unless you're dense) and in this case he didn't have either.  His friend seemed nice enough (and flaming gay) and we got into a huge discussion about sports, until he got drunk and attempted to hold my hand, wrap his arm around me and rub my back.  I really don't understand guys.  Usually girls will make a hint that she's attracted to you.  So if she's standing a good five feet away from you during conversation and looking around the room as she's talking to you, she is NOT ATTRACTED. 

Anyway, they proceeded to introduce us to a group that had a table.  We were both hesistant to go over because we didn't want to be committed to this group the rest of the night.  They were mostly older people, which wasn't the issue, it was just that most of them were creepy.  The oddest and most mind blowing thing that happened was when we started talking to this woman in her 40s who was apparently all jacked up on coke.  She was from Kansas, so we figured she would be normal, until she got to talking about how in love her husband was with her and vice versa, and that they've been married for 20 years and that's a feat in LA because the city is not "condusive to love."  We told her that they must really be in love (side note: the husband got my friend's number and ended up texting her a few times.)  Instead of agreeing with us, the woman looked us dead in the eye and goes, "Want to know a secret to keeping your husband?"  and then proceeded to inform us that the key to a successful marriage is something that rhymes with a "snow glob."  And with that we faked a bathroom trip.

At some point Ryan Cabrera and his three pound, 48'' hair-don't showed up.  We knew things were going to go downhill once we spotted Michael Lohan -- for the second time that day.  Isn't that an omen?  Shouldn't we be dead?

I'm not saying that we shouldn't have been at this party... we're not A-list by any means.  But really.  We shouldn't have been at this party.

Anyway, we ended up back at her house around 1:30 eating eggrolls and pad thai.  The next day, she called me because her roommate works for The Weinstein Company and apparently saw every A-lister known to man that night.  She had to personally keep tabs on Harvey (Weinstein) for her job, keeping the riff-raff away from him.  So while she was busy on Harvey duty and probably watching the likes of, say, 100 of the best actors and actresses Hollywood has to offer, we were essentially rubbing elbows with the riff-raff. 

One of these days we'll (hopefully) be in our couture gowns and remember when...

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