Living In A Bubble

Regard this entry as a placeholder.

I need to write about my weekend in Los Angeles as a guest of Monsieur Harvey and Dom Perignon. It's just hard to do it without sounding like a wanker/banker.

Somehow I blagged my way to LA on a private jet,  stayed at the Mondrian with an unlimited champagne budget and went to a party filled with bad fashion, Hollywood monsters, over-ambitious nibbles and endless vintage Dom Perignon. 

'Hello Hollywood!', I gurned,  pounding glass after glass of poo with Paris Hilton (skinny), Karl Lagerfeld (whoopsie), Mickey Rourke (face like he's fallen face first in a fire), Pierce Brosnan (twat), Beck (midget), Vincent Gallo (smelly), Courtney Love (smokes), Eva Herzigova (horse in a sack), Jessica Simpson (why?), Devendra Banhart (rocks) etc.  I got myself on telly too - fleeting appearances on Access Hollywood and other early evening dross - staring intently at Miss.Hilton's fun-bags.

Fun was had, sleep was not.

Dom Perignon - it's a denser bubble.

Comments

[byronicman]

Why the hell didn't you get Paris Hilton to do the Triforce? For that reason - and a million more besides - I wish I was you.