On Friday night, I went to a party. A non-kid-birthday, grown-up-fancy party! And I, of course, proceeded to act like a toddler the entire time.
Part the First: I decide to wear my new shoes. I attempt to drive a stick shift in my new shoes. Six blocks and three stall-outs later, I kick them off and drive barefoot instead.
Part the Second: I arrive early because I am a blogger of considerable influence who is also Internet-Friends with one of the VIP guests, Laura Bennett of Project Runway/Daily Beast/Your Local Bookstore. I bump into the person who invited me in the first place, give her an awkward hug of thanks...and accidently stomp on her bare feet with -- oh my God -- those stupid fucking shoes.
Part the Third: I attempt to give Laura directions to the event via text message, belatedly realizing that my phone auto-corrected my mistyping of "Elm Street" into "Elmo Street."
Part the Fourth: There was wine. It was free.
Part the Fifth: Socialite/Professional Fancy Party Person Tinsley Mortimer was another VIP. Laura and I decide to get our picture taken with her. She's busy holding an interview, but we don't let that stop us.
I put some pigs-in-a-blanket on my plate so our photobombing had a believable cover story. That was my plan, in case someone yelled at us for being obnoxious jackasses. "We're just here for the buffet, sir!"
Part the Sixth: At some point, so embiggened and boldened by our daring photo op with The Tinz, I just straight up ask Laura to make me a dress for MamaPop's Sparklecorn party. (In less grabby, selfish news, I'm giving away autographed copies of her new book instead. Whee!)Part the Seventh: Some woman thinks I am Laura's assistant or PR person and tries to pitch me on...McDonald's franchises? Or something? I explain that I'm just a friend, so she says, "Oh, never mind, here, hold my book for a minute" and then pushes through to Laura directly. After a few minutes she realizes she wants her book signed and starts shrieking "WHERE'S MY BOOK? SECURITY TOOK MY BOOK!"
Part the Eighth: I give her back her book.
Part the Ninth: After the book signing party, there was a fashion show. I probably say "FASHION SHOW! FASHION SHOW! FASHION SHOW AT LUNCH!" to a good half-dozen people, but nobody has any clue what I am talking about. Most people would have stopped after the first or second or third time, but I am not most people. CLEARLY.
Part the Tenth: I forget my gift bag full of free hair products under my seat. I spend the next 20 minutes trying to figure out a way that this was Jason's fault, but cannot.
Part the End: I say goodbye to Laura and everybody else who tolerated my over-excited presence all night, wander around in search of some french fries, then almost leave my shoes in the cab. But I don't! So the evening ends on a high note, at least.