NOTABLE CELEBRITIES IN ATTENDANCE: Neve Campbell, Julie Taymor, Nathan Lane, Stockard Channing, Amanda Peet, Lucy Liu, Greta Scacchi, Sandra Bullock, Vin Diesel, Angelina Jolie, Maria Bello, Jared Leto, Albert Finny, Erykah Badu, Kirsten Dunst, Forest Whitaker, Ben Stiller, Charlize Theron, John Frankenheimer, Jason Biggs, Drew Barrymore, Paul Rubens, and Courtney Cox-Arquette.
RANDOM NOVELISTS I WAS MISTAKEN FOR: Tomas Elow Martinez, Douglas Copeland, Chaim Potok, J.D. Salinger, Don DeLillo, Anne Sexton.
I circulated from room to room, not saying much to anyone. Finny, Whitaker, Scacchi, Channing and Leto all told me how excited they were about about WSTS.
Hyacinth showed up with a blonde surfer-looking guy who was wearing nothing but Ocean Pacific bathing trunks and sandals. "Have you seen Taylor?" she asked. "Taylor is in Los Angeles," I said. "That's rude. Not even showing up to your own charity benefit?" she said. "It's gauche to show up to your own charity benefit," I said. "What does gauche mean?" she asked. "It means go fuck yourself." The surfer-looking guy asked me if we could trade shoes.
A model named Jen Rae (who I'm almost certain was still fucking Mark Brucer) was doing blow with Charlize Theron and her lesbian friend in one of the executive bathroom suites. Someone had lit the toilet paper roll on fire, but no one seemed to notice. Or maybe no seemed to mind. I wandered out on the terrace and drank several Vodka Gimlets with Albert Finney, who kept asking me how long it had been since I had spoken with Heath Ledger.
NUMBER OF TIMES VROOM ASKED ME IF I'D LIKE TO SEE THE LEMUR HE HAD CHAINED UP DOWN IN HIS LIMO: 12
DUMBEST THING DREW BARRYMORE SAID: "What's a lemur?"
After the party, I went back to my hotel and found a note taped to my hotel room door. It read: "Show me the way home, you simple fuckwit."
ONE MESSAGE ON MY VOICE MAIL: "The world is a vampire."
*click*
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