I don't know why it didn't occur to me that at a party for actors and models and otherwise talented individuals that I would be surrounded by beauty and glamour. The boys were almost as pretty as the girls and, you know, I just hate when a man looks better than I do. I confess to the world that that wasn't my only insecurity. As we approached the VIP lounge I was half certain that one of those LARGE bouncers (where do they find those guys?) were going to turn me away and close the impenetrable stanchion of class in my face. That did not happen, we breezed right through on affected dash and after an hour and a couple of drinks I began to relax. That's just about the time the party got wild. We were very festive and I never knew exactly what we were celebrating. But why wouldn't these beautiful people want to celebrate? They're young, they're talented, and they're successful. They have everything to play for.
Thankfully (and dare I say surprisingly?) they were also welcoming. Of course they were entertaining and who wouldn't love to spend an evening chatting, dancing, and laughing with glamour incarnate? (To our dear new friend Colby with the soulful Pisces eyes: we are so glad to have met you.)
But the best part - the very best part - was seeing Mike St. James standing on a red carpet, limos on the street, cameras snapping. It felt, I don't the know the word, maybe real?
Did I mention there was drinking?
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