The Countess

I went to the opening...re-opening...re-design?...of the Lord & Taylor's on 5th Ave a couple months ago after work. Big tall chicks, some say models, in flower garb headpieces were waddling around on a red carpet outside, which promised an entertaining evening. I traversed the 5 billion floors with my co-workers taking in each show; cutesie kidz band on the third floor? nopez, champagne courtesy of Ralph Lauren on the fourth floor? I'll doooooooo it. I snapped a picture of Andrew WK being a super subdued DJ with my phone and then made my way to the top floor. Ready to scoot we decided to take the elevator down and guess who we shared our ride with? Why twas you Countess LuAnn and yonder music producer with sunglasses that never come offeth. All I  wanted to do was hum "money can't buy you class..but it CAN buy thousands of people champagne (holla at ma boi Ralph). I'm almost as tall as you...also your hair looked pretty ok.


If you see this, will you please contact lesbianswholooklikejustinbieber.tumblr.com and tell her to put my picture up? 




And because I love Housewives' songz:

Matt Czuchry: I Wanted to Touch Your Face

You were filming "The Good Wife" outside my work for a whole week. I kept hoping to run into you, and while going to lunch one day, I looked across the intersection and there you were, crossing the street into my outstretched arms (you wish). You stood to my left as we waited for the light to change and blew a big ass bubblegum bubble, color me impressed. I turned to you, touched your arm and said "hey, I don't mean to be a pain in the ass, but I think you're awesome." You said "thanks," and we made the smallest of small talkz as we crossed the street together. I wanted to touch your face so bad as it looked softer than the softest baby butt. 


If you see this, let me touch your face.

You Love My Birthday Cuba Gooding Jr.

I was havin a baller evening with my friends while celebrating my birthday at the Hudson Hotel bar. We were putting our drankz on some German dude's hotel room bill (he offered?) and dancin up a storm until people told us to get down off the couches. Someone said Cuba Gooding Jr. was there, so I was like where he be!? I saw you, posse-less, sitting down with some guy, Mr. Manager, standing right behind you. I saw you signing stuff in front of some chicks, so I figured it was equal opportunity. I sat down right in front of you on the couch, and your manager looked at me quizzically, then looked at you for a yes or no, and you gave him a head shake "no." Mr. Manager looked at me and nodded a big fat "NOPE SORRY." So, dejected, I got up and slumped away as much as one can slump while dancing and drinking. 


Ten minutes go by and Mr. Manager catches my eye, he waves me over like "pardy?" I grabbed my two friends and we resumed the spot in front of you. We told you it was my birthday, and for the rest of the evening you periodically raised your glass and yelled/cheersed "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Bottle service happened, and around 1a.m. you asked us if we wanted to go to another clerb*. We followed you out of the bar and down the street to another bar where we jumped the line and immediately got seated/more bottle service...it was so fuggin legit. I faked taking shotz cause I was tired town, and eventually we got "thrown out."


If you see this, would you say playing the driver of the Lucille Ball tour bus in Rat Race was your most demanding role to date?

You Had a Horn

My friends and I tried out Bar Floyd the other night, and I made my way in past the doorman and the guy who "RAWR-ed" at me in reference to my leopard print dress to the couch next to the books. The world cup was inevitably going on, and I still don't care. My friends and I were havin a legit time, and then this horn noise kept happening. I was wondering if it was the TV and some celebration noise for a soccer thingamajig, but alas, twas you, Mr. Horn Blower. Ten minutes later I told my friends, "if he blows it again I'm going over there." And then you did, and then I did. You and your friend were piss-happy. I looked at you and said, "Are you the one blowing the horn? It's annoying." Your friend said some jackassery, and you were slightly stunned that someone who wasn't an obnoxious dude was talking to you. I could totally tell that you wanted to appease your comrades and continue being a douche. I asked you if I could have the horn, and you said no. Then I asked one more time if you would consider stopping and walked away. As I made my way back to the couch, I heard the horn followed by laughter. I heard it about two more times, and then I heard the faint sound of realization- realization that your loud-ass horn blows.


If you see this, have fun ruining good timez.