Oh. Em. Gee.

People, I hope you got your nap on, because to tonight I sense madness.


Saturday:
1. Modular pool party at the Standard on Sunset
2. Lab 101 opening with Albert Ryes
3. NewHigh gallery in Chinatown has an opening! (I'm so there.)

Then Sunday, Buffmonster is having a toy signing.

See you our there, peeps! We'll high five.

Most excitedly,

Miss Alie Ward

Professional Leisurist

What’s going on with Chris Breed? Usually, it’s his business partners who work behind the scenes while he serves as the (seriously handsome) face of his venues. Lately, however, he’s been taking a back seat. He was supposed to be the big name behind Ritual, formerly White Lotus, but he sold out of the club just before it opened. Then, on Tuesday, his new spot The Green Door opened next door to Cabana Club, which he also owns, without the slightest bit of fanfare. Yes, Linkin Park was playing at Ritual and Les Deux was having its one-year anniversary party, but still. I’d have thought this opening would have been a bigger deal, especially with Johnny Zander (formerly of Teddy’s) as his right-hand man. I spoke to Chris yesterday—he sounded exhausted—and said he’s expanding his business in Las Vegas and Miami and, while he didn’t say it outright, he seems pretty over the Hollywood scene.

 
He's usually so chatty, but this is all I could get out of him about The Green Door.

•There’s a green door.

•The walls are green.

•There’s a lounge vibe.

•There’s a tapas and crepe menu.

•It’s also outfitted with turn-of-the-century French furniture.

•It has a lounge vibe.

Yep, that’s  it. That's not much of an incentive to go, is it?

Guess which finger!

Two people, one party. Two wildly disparate reactions.

Case in point: the lovely Scott T Sterling and I headed separately to the BPM party last night. He got there early, hit the open bar, and proceeded to get retarded in the best possible way . He's in the DJ booth, rubbing bony elbows with Paris Hilton, texting that Ron Jeremy had just arrived.

I myself had donned a lame-ass outfit (skirt: Ross, 1999), and met loyal comrade Gemini downstairs with a sour-faced frown. I shuffled heavily all four blocks to the Avalon, and gave the bouncer an eye roll when he made me wait in a cattle line for 3 minutes. Sure, he was a d-bag, but what bitchy demon from Medieval lore had possessed me? 

By the time we arrived, there was nothing even close to an open bar. BPM would have won me over with free lukewarm shots of Gilby's gin at that point. Or this .

But I learned two valuable lessons last night:

1. Sometimes, even Professional Leisurists need a nap before heading out.

2. Always bring a flask. 

I'll abide by these edicts, and see you out, transformed, tonight.  

It was inevitable, I suppose. All work and no play – you know the rest. So tonight, we played. And we played to win. Did it work out that way? Who knows. I barely remember my name at this point. It was all of that organic vodka. Does that mean I’ll have a green hangover tomorrow, er, later on today?

Moving Units kept it angular. DJ A.M. sported the dopest Britney Spears shirt ever. “American Idol” finalist Constantine smiled. Girl Talk sweated like a bastard and had L.A. dancing like goons to Cyndi Lauper and Fleetwood Mac. A man after my own heart. I yelled at a bouncer. I got my way because of it. I tried to start a fight, and almost succeeded. OK, that's not entirely true. I just held up a karmic mirror to some rude d-bag and he didn't like it at all. I did not, however, throw up.

Rob got elegantly wasted. But not before he played the track the Clash made with Futura 2000. Ron Jeremy humored me. Paris Hilton rushed by me. Frankie Chan looked sharp. Ellei took pictures. Joe laughed. Tigarah was sweet. Alexandra was psyched about her trip to Alabama (firearms were involved). I took pictures of cute girls. I traded cards with cuter girls. I’m so effing L.A. right now it hurts. I can’t wait to see Daft Punk on Saturday. Stretch Armstrong played a sweet remix of “Roxanne.” A-Trak was gracious and well dressed. Nicole Scherzinger of the Pussycat Doll was nice (and hot). I met a woman going to New Zealand to compete in the World Bartender Championships. Cristina was on it, and then over it. A drunk couple kept grinding against my back. I was a complete cheese-ball and hung out in the DJ booth during Girl Talk, taking pictures and being so scene. I laughed – a lot. I talked to Steve Levy – a lot. I drank (all together now) – a lot. Alie and Gemini came and went. I heard some amazing gossip. I said "what's up?" to Cisco Adler. I saw some dude that was in the Borat movie. I ran into Shannon's friend that looks just like Vincent Gallo, and took a picture of him making out with a hot blonde. Contrary to appearances, I am not proud. People threw down - hard. 

And then I went home. 

Happy Friday, and can we hurry up with the Bloody Marys already? Dang.