Rashida Jones, Kirsten Dunst and Chris Rock were all out partying in Park City last night. But, they were not alone. See who is still out at Sundance in our gallery.
Photo credit: Wilsonmodels
With the extravagantly colorful crowd it attracts, “Amanda’s Big Top” doesn’t even need a carnival décor. It’s already a three-ring extravaganza, with club kids, muscle bears, wandering tourists, and a guy with masking tape on his mouth all convening every Wednesday to put the carnal back in carnival.
But even if it seems a bit redundant, the physical setting is YouTube-perfect, making this the de rigueur event of the week for those on the edge and not afraid to dangle there. Held on the “Carnival” level of Bowlmor on University Place, the bash (promoted by Kenny Kenny and Joey Israel) is set under a pseudo tent in a post-modern amusement arcade lined with Coney Island-style games to work out your aggressions on. Throw a ping pong ball in a goldfish bowl or knock down a clown doll with a softball and you win an assortment of aptly esoteric prizes like paisley dolphin dolls and neon anal beads.
My sister and I at The Oakridge Boys
I spent this week in the bowels of humanity. No — literally! I toodled on out to Palm Springs for the Stagecoach country music festival — Coachella’s redneck sister — with my pal Theano and my little sister Emily. And none too soon.
See, here’s the deal with being single in NYC. You can find your physical type, and you can find your mental type — and never the two shall meet. Trust. I’ve tried. So, being a (physical) lover of very large manly men (and you try finding big manly guys who know how to fix a tire in NYC), I decided why not just wallow in a sea of my physical type and while I’m at it — get to see Merle Haggard, The Oakridge Boys, Sugarland, Brooks & Dunn, Toby Keith, and a whole lot of sweaty cowboys?
Repeat after me: no good happens after 1 a.m. WHEN WILL I LEARN??? I pinched a nerve so badly I can’t turn my neck. At all. I look like one of those freaky wooden dolls where you push a lever and their bodies and necks turn with their heads while the lips move. I am creeping myself out. That and I have a zit. Which pisses me off as my mother told me when I was 14 that I’d stop getting zits when I turned 18. But then again she also told me I could get pregnant by sitting on an unprotected toilet seat, so there you go.
Photo by Brian Christopher Cummings
BonBon is by far the sexiest new club event in town and there’s no sex at all at it. I didn’t even see any light frottage!
But there’s pure sex appeal in the air at the Tuesday night bash (at the supper club Juliet) because of the distinct absence of boredom from the guest list in favor of possibility, opportunity, and very high fashion. The every-night-is-Halloween crowd finds their way there, all dolled up to the nine-inch heels and ready to party till gay marriage is approved—or at least till 3 a.m. Factor in all the corsets, bodices, and facial masks in the room, and you’ll realize that these fractured fairy tale creatures can’t get it on because it would hurt too much—but no one’s ever looked hotter while indulging in such (temporary) chastity.