The Modern Age

So where have we been for the last few days? Good question. Well on Thursday we went to the party for the Pirelli calendar. We watched as this year’s photographer Patrick Demarchalier guided the devil in Prada herself, Anna Wintour, around the blow-ups of the photos featured in the calendar.

After we boozed and shmoozed with the beautiful and famous, we headed down to Eleven to hit our birthday party held at Atomique. A good time was had by all as Nick spun the wheels of steel, and there even was a random celebrity sighting–if you consider David Cross a celebrity.

Friday night we attended the afterparty for the designer Zaldy at the SoHo Grand that Geordon and Greg K. were DJing. It was supposedly hosted by Parker Posey, but as a newly minted geriatric, we headed out just as all the fabulous people were arriving.

Sunday we avoided the insanity that was the Chinese New Year parade, but from what we could hear, it sounded like a rip roaring good time.

And finally, yesterday we asked ourselves, “What kind of sick people go to Hooters on Valentine’s Day?” Well, we found out first hand by heading to Hooterville in Manhattan (yes, one exists). Apparently 30-something white guys and large parties of British people go there on the Hallmark card holiday. We had mild chicken wings, curly fries, and a Philly cheese steak. Oh, and also a tummyache. Nothing says “I love you” better than a green pucker face.