Monday night, I met the peeps at Soho House for a fun cocktail hour filled with some delicious white sangria. When it's cold and rainy outside, it's sangria time inside! The venue was packed with the usual delicious Eurotrash and you couldn't throw a stone without hitting some foreskin hidden in couture. After our cocktail hour, we made our way to Buddakan for a gorgeous Asian feast. Somebody please holler at those edamame dumplings because they were simply divine! After a serious gorgefest, we made our way to the Bowery Ballroom to see our favorite Scottish electro dance sensation Calvin Harris. Bowery was transformed into a gay German rave and we danced with the best of them. Turns out at the end of the night, I wasn't holding glow sticks and looked like I left a foam party (Please interpret this with the filthiest of minds). If you love to dance with heterosexual men, check Mr. Harris out: http://www.myspace.com/calvinharristv . A big thank you to Ms. Grace for hookin our weaves up and hosting such a fabulous evening!!
Last night, I took out the ever glamorous Ms. Jacky for an evening of frolicking and nostalgia. We had an amazing dinner at Kittichai before we cabbed to my big surprise for the evening: Third Eye Blind at the Nokia Theatre!! That's right, bitches! It's 1997 and we're rockin our weaves like San Francisco trannies! I don't even know how to properly describe the crowd. Imagine a bunch of washed up frat boys who decided to congregate at Roosevelt Field to discuss the importance of cement. And they all brought their ho bag lacrosstitute wives with them! Did Suffolk County Community College vomit all over Times Square? Oh! That's actually an appropriate assessment. I just can't even conceive how people still think it's acceptable to HIGH FIVE each other at a concert after every song. I almost bent over and stuck my ass in the air and hoped for a spanking to get some enjoyment out of the fratalicious mess. But the songs were delightful and even though Stephen Jenkins looked like a hot old mess, we still had a lovely time. The evening ended with a stop at Waverly Inn for some dessert and wine. The paparazzi were in full force outside but we only spotted a large-and-in-charge Harvey Weinstein and some dumb whore he called a "date" and that we called a "golddigging glory hole in heels".
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