Tonight I'm heading to The Plaza Hotel, The Rose Club to be exact. I can't believe that in the three years of writing this column, The Plaza has been a wanted destination not yet realized, until now. I feel like I should hit some thrift stores for a full-length faux fur coat before heading over there - or maybe get a little lip enhancement so I can quack my way through the lobby unnoticed.
I'll fill you in on the event tomorrow, but you can be confident with your guess that it's not for the launch of WalMart's latest ammo and cigarettes luxury line.
As for today, well, I'm feeling reflective, like a tinfoil hat. Since this is the final countdown to my final post to Just An Online Minute, let's take a trip in the way-back machine and remember the most surreal moments in party coverage.
While not necessarily surreal, unless hunger-induced visions count, this Campari event was so fun to write up, but in hindsight, perhaps a little harsh. They tried to sway my opinion, but in the end, I still didn't like the taste, and no doubt they feel I have none. Proud moment? Getting a stern talking-to for my usage of aphid farts. Also note that RADAR still existed in print form.
What is more surreal than a bowling alley full of baldies? And by surreal I mean fantastical. The best part of this event wasn't just the event itself, but the aftermath I discovered in the Flickr stats when a baldy fan forum fed hundreds (and counting) of new views into the event Flickr set. If you're bald, there is a whole Internet world dedicated to you.
There will never be another blog advertising schmoozefest like Perez Hilton's party at Greenhouse. The iconic Amanda Lepore , in some sort of deconstructed naked catwoman lingerie, dirty deed rapper Cazwell, and a variety of lipsticked men as women as men and a crowd of mismatched guests made for a ridiculous champagne-filled evening. This was also the night I was first exposed to Kid Sister , a sexy, smiling firecracker. Little tidbit -- I've walked past both Cazwell and Amanda Lepore here and there in the East Village and I love it.
Oh Stardoll, who can forget the night where I broke my confrontation with Captain Clipboard seal. Adrenaline helped me stand my ground and Heidi Klum made everything better. This wouldn't be the first time I experienced what happens when PR types don't actually pay attention to the content of the columns of the "reporters" they invite. AKA "have the intern do that."
The Webbys -- back when they were less concerned about inviting self-promoting cliques (hell, yes, I'm bitter that I had to ask to cover the actual event, not just the red carpet, after religiously covering their parties, afterparties, and events for years) -- always delivered. I met Ludacris, Omar, Travie McCoy, Travie McCoy's body guard "Big Tealy" (named by me for his huge self in a big teal shirt. Clever, I know), Obama Girl, Sarah Silverman, David Pogue, Trent Reznor, and some Victoria's Secret models. The Webbys always made me thank my lucky stars for such a unique and bizarre job that masqueraded as fun.
Speaking of Obama Girl, being a part of the political boozy energy around election night was something I will never forget. I scooted from party to party with long time +1, Gail Hilton of Thought Equity Motion, watching the votes come in with other patriotic partiers at the Yahoo Election night party at Cain, the Naked party at Photon, finishing up at the 23/6 party at the HuffPo offices. And if you thought it stopped at the election, you're wrong - Yelp through one of the best parties of 2008 with their Inauguration Ball, featuring boobies!
The most surreal moments came in the form of the level playing field this column created for me with people I admire or am intrigued by. For example, can't say I expected to run into "To Catch A Predator"'s Chris Hansen at a nerderific Diggnation event. Meeting Ed Burns was a shining, less-pedophile-related moment. I was beside myself with anchor envy when I met Pat Kiernan at the 140 Characters Conference. Pat Kiernan has been a part of my morning routine since I started living in NYC, and his presence on Twitter is always informative and entertaining as hell, so meeting him was a real treat -- like a Nutella-filled doughnut.
And finally, there was the night I was told to have an intimate moment with myself by a Brazilian film crew. Good times, great memories.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to weep quietly in front of my laptop while flicking through old posts.
What's going to happen to Just An Online Minute? Do YOU have ideas of how you would carry it forward or even flip it on its head? Send your clear thoughts to firstname.lastname@example.org!