"Stealing MySpace" Launch Party, The Four Seasons Restaurant, New York
March 9, 2009

Let's play a game. It's a word/sound association game. I'm going to say a word or phrase and you're going to tell me the sound you are making when you hear the phrase. It'll be fun, I promise. Ready? "Tila Tequila Punch." The sound I made when I read that was "Blooffphhhpt" which was accompanied by the face I would make if my doctor sat me down with a clipboard full of unidentifiable STIs (oh, it's STI now, kids). If you made no sound at all its because you don't know who Tila Tequila is and you need to step out of your bubble and welcome yourself to the world of pop culture and examples of the power of MySpace (and bikinis, I suppose). You know what's odd? Hoity-toity jacket-and-tie-required The Four Seasons Restaurant created this signature punch to celebrate the launch of Julia Angwin's book "Stealing MySpace." Let's go inside -- me in my jeans and you in your Diane Von Furstenberg dress -- and see what this is all about.

On the Random House promotional blurb (because, der, they're the publishers) is a sticky hotel blanket of tales following Chris DeWolfe and Tom Anderson, "who dabbled in computer hacking, online pornography, spam, and spyware before starting MySpace," through the naked-teen-laden obstacle course that is the Internet and its voyeur, er, social networking, culture. I haven't read this volume of dark dealings and nerd clubbing, but I will. Until then, let's dissect the party.

I walked into The Four Seasons dressed for a typical evening in the NYC -- jeans, black top, chunky necklace, and heels. This is not the suggested dress code that everyone else was following. Not a swatch of denim in sight at the square bar laid out under the spangled gold chandelier. The Grill Room was dark, yellowed with the scattered candlelight, and gently packed with early arrivals. I snapped a quick picture of Julia Angwin and The Wall Street Journal advertising columnist Suzanne Vranica before she became overwhelmed with handshakes. I walked over to the furthest bar with my +1 to sample the Tila Tequila Punch. It was tasty, sweet, a little strong, and definitely something you'd just leave at the table and walk away from. Interesting...

Literary agent Esmond Harmsworth was a great find. We were talking about how until something gets really successful, you don't see the slithering rat traps, the gooey decaying soulless insides of some of the players, and the bamboozling. It's almost like when you're at the top you start to feel the slip on the other side, so that's when the real clawing and scrambling begins. In the world of tech startups, you'd be surprised what really goes down. F'rinstance, courtesy of Esmond, there once was an online video startup , sort of a poor man's Hulu before Hulu, who released an internal memo stating officially that pot smoking in the office during normal operating hours would no longer be allowed -- despite their interoffice hookah set-up.

My +1 gasped and said "That's where I did my internship! Imagine me, 20 years old, in NYC from Illinois at my first internship ---calling my professor with weekly reports of in-office drugs use." "And hiring prostitutes" Esmond offered. My first internship consisted of stuffing fuzzy hide swatches into press kits for Edelman Leather. Bit of a different experience.

Emily Steel's internship was markedly different as well -- her internship at The Wall Street Journal landed her in D.C. for a conference about safety and social networking sites. MySpace was under the microscope and Emily found herself writing her first story for the paper with "Stealing MySpace" author, Julie Angwin, who was also in D.C. covering the MySpace angle. Last night Emily was moonlighting as the WSJ publicist, pointing out other Journal people splattered around the room including Heard on the Street columnist Martin Peers, who was tip-toeing through the truffle oil with Joe Flint, Director, Industry Programs, The Paley Center for Media.

You know, it's been a while since you and I have talked about food. Let's chow! Seemingly endless trays of food appeared -- displaying tuna tartare on a potato crisp dressed up all fancy-like with caviar, blood-red beef carpaccio with fennel, and that ever-pungent and addictive truffle oil, and cozy little gouda cheese puffs (the Snuggie of hors d'oeurves) found their way into my goat-like belly. Once my impression of a human compost heap was complete, I ran off to the coat check to retrieve my things (passing by launch guests gasping at the strength of the Tila Tequila punch) and head out to party #2 for the night: Yelp's "Beauty At The B.East" party at Broadway East!

HOLY MARCH! It's heading out like a sauced up lion, but go ahead, send those invitations to kelly@mediapost.com!

Who else got punchy?