It was quite fitting that while running through the Luxor on work errand, I heard The Rolling Stone’s “Sympathy for the Devil.”  I was in Sin City, after all.

            Camped out at The Bellagio with the rest of the people I was working with for the weekend, I braced myself for what I was sure would be a hectic 5 days.  The VMA’s were upon us, the celebrities were flocking to the strip, and we were setting up StyleVilla (a celebrity gifting suite). 

Before I get to the nightlife part, I just have to say that celebrities are really a piece of work.  There were lots of D List-ers like old American Idol people, MTV reality show people (Sorry I think The Hills is stupid although Brody is hot), Britney Spears assistants, and people who haven’t worked in years that I won’t mention.  It’s amazing that the people with the biggest attitudes were those who were the least famous.

50 Cent was so friendly, went to every suite, arm wrestled someone for a watch and got a facial on camera.  Oh and his publicist dropped off a huge box for us of 50’s new condom line (I kid you not) called “Magic Stick.”  They are made by Lifestyles and supposedly flavored.  Another favorite was Kevin Connelly.  Okay maybe I was just really excited about seeing E.

Now onto the important stuff.  The main club we went to when we were there, and not passed out by like 9 from working all day, was LAX.  DJ AM had launched it about a week prior and it truly is a great club.  Dark burgundy décor and dim lighting made for a sexy atmosphere.  Once you walk inside you forget that you were in a Casino just a few moments ago.

Several bars, downstairs tables, and sky lofts make most of what you can see.  The first night we were there we had one of the sky lofts, which is just basically upstairs private seating areas with balconies that overlook the dance floor.  Service is very good and very quick.

The real treat of LAX, however, is what you don’t see.  Our last night there we went to the P. Diddy after party.  One of the girls we were with spoke to a bouncer and soon we were being led through a dark hallway.  One of my co-workers whispered that she thought we were going to some kind of “stripper and champagne room”, not quite.  Through a private entrance on the first floor was the ultra-exclusive lounge Noir Bar, which also includes a celebrity-friendly private exit.

Service there, steps it up a notch with the bartenders asking you what you like and then concocting drinks, with fresh fruit and all.  (I looked it up after and they are actually trained to do that.)  So I get to the bar, pick up a bellini and lo and behold who is in the corner but Miss Britney Spears herself.  After her sadly disappointing opening performance at the VMA’s she had her sunglasses on, plain black dress, and was dancing by the DJ booth with her friends.  Nobody bothered her as she obviously didn’t want to be bothered.  Also spotted later in the evening, Criss Angel, Tommy Lee, the cast of The Hills, and some guy from the soap Passions that my friend nearly fainted over.

Downside, only one bathroom at Noir Bar and once you leave it’s annoying to get back in so you end up just waiting it out for a half hour on the line.  Of course, if you’re Britney with a huge bodyguard, you cut the line and go in for 20 minutes with 2 friends, breaking the one-person only strict policy.  This pissed off everyone as nobody really reveres her anymore.  My friend mouthed off to her bodyguard telling him it was unfair, but then he got within an inch of her face and told her to “stop being disrespectful.”  Who knew it was disrespectful to complain about someone cutting you in line to the bathroom when your bladder is about to burst?

Anyway, I was actually happy when I boarded the plane to come home.  Vegas is fun but for me it has a time limit, and this past trip definitely exceeded that.  Although I do miss In n’ Out burger, I’m glad to be back in my city around real people.  Celebrities think they are just so entitled and everyone out in LA and Las Vegas caters to that idea.  Although many celebrities live and breathe in New York, I think for the most part if any one of them tried to cut a New Yorker in line to pee at a club, we would just tell them to “F*ck off.”

After my last post about lower-key weekends, I guess I should’ve expected the opposite to follow.  Not just a packed, scene-y place but the whole enchilada.  Yes, drama as well.  What would a weekend in New York be without it?

So I hauled my East Side self over to the West Side, Hell’s Kitchen to be exact, not my favorite area.  My friends and I decided to try the other Azuki for a change, instead of the usual packed with 18 year olds one on Park Avenue South.  Verdict?  You could actually move at this one, food was the same, and the service was way friendlier.  Convenience factor as far as location?  Eh, not great, but I guess it depends on who you talk to and where you’re coming from.

Then it was off to Retreat because my tennis-obsessed friend was dying to see James Blake’s brother, Thomas, and possibly James Blake himself.  What this all meant to me, a seriously sports challenged girl, was about zip.  Honestly, if they aren’t in the tabloids or aren’t a member of the New York Yankees (no I don’t lust after Jeter like the rest of the female population, my family’s been genuine fans for years), then I probably don’t know who they are.  So we went, we got free bottles of Smirnoff Source (enjoyed) and then we departed for another destination.  My friend was happy as we hailed a cab.

However, it was after we squeezed into a cab that some girl, maybe a few years older than me, started screaming something at me through the cab window.  At first I was like “who is this girl talking to and what is she saying?”  But then she pointed DIRECTLY and me and screamed, “YEAH YOU BITCH!”  I’m not really sure what she was saying, but being the potty-mouthed soul that I am, I instructed the cab to stop as I leaned over, much to the chagrin of my friends and rolled the window down.

As I screamed after her “what did you say?” and failed to get her attention, some guy, who I can only assume to be her friend, said “It was nothing, we saw you at the sushi place before.”  Um yeah sure, whatever, that’s why your psycho drunk friend was screaming at me through the cab window.  Whatever gets you off.

We moved onto Park, an old classic, where I pretty much lost everyone that I showed up with, but Park being Park found a bunch of other people I knew.  Bunch being an understatement actually, seems like everyone there just knew each other.  Which of course means, a lot of fake hellos and even a couple of “I see you, we are friends on Facebook, yet we barely know each other so it’d be totally awkward to say hello.”

I got out of there at a decent hour, successfully avoiding that evil entrapping hot dog stand that resides on the sidewalk and often sucks me in after a druken evening.  Happily, I made it home and hot dog free.

Saturday night was less traveling around.  We just went to Tonic in Murray Hill.  Can anyone tell me why they always close the rooftop off at 11:30?  Is it to avoid drunk people falling off?  230 Fifth has a rooftop and I think it works just fine.  Anyway, it was a pretty uneventful night.  Well, with the exception of one of my guy friends projectile vomiting in the middle of the bar.  He managed to only get a little bit on one of my friends, thankfully not me.  I guess that’s what comes of trying to take two “mind erasers” at once.  Smart move.  Can’t say the night was ruined though.  He just went home and changed shirts.  True story.

It’s nice to take a break from sceney places every once in awhile.  I enjoy being able to walk into a bar and actually, BREATHE.  You know, a place where you can hear your friends speaking, you don’t have to fight your way to get a drink, etc.  So that’s just what I did last Friday.

            A friend was having her birthday party at Forum on 4th Ave between 12th and 13th.  First of all, I don’t understand why it’s called 4th Ave, but the further downtown I go in the city, the more I get confused!  Don’t even get me started on the village.  I almost had an anxiety attack on Saturday night meeting friends for dinner down there, but nevermind that- back to Forum.

            As one of my guy friends put it, it was a “club-like bar that isn’t a club.”  Sounds silly, but makes a lot of sense.  It wasn’t your typical dark, all wood, sticky floors, beer smelling kinda neighborhood bar.  Good music, played the regular hits of right now.  Diverse crowd, which was a nice breather.  No “OMG you’re in that frat?  My cousin’s friend is in that, do you know so and so?”  Thankfully.  Although towards the end of the night there were a lot of people around me making out and dry humping/dancing.  Maybe because it was less crowded and I was mostly sober I just noticed it more?  Who knows.

            Saturday night, after my dinner romp in the Village, I went to meet one of my friends in the meatpacking district at the lounge “Apt.”  I’d never been there before.  It’s right next to Spice Market.  I was expecting the typical trendy one-name meatpacking venue that’s packed to the brim, but it was really different, although still exclusive.  Of course, you still had to deal with the front door annoyance of name-dropping and list dropping, but whatever.

            For starters, it was one of the most uniquely designed places I’ve ever been to in the city.  It was designed like an actual apartment, albeit a nice one.  After the front black nothing area, you walk through a hallway and enter what is supposed to look like a living room.  It was quaintly decorated with a small bar, old-fashioned refrigerator behind it, dark wallpaper and lots of wood decorum.  There was actually a bed that looked like it would belong in your room, not like other clubs that have beds.  Then there was long table that looks like a dining room table and then the usual couch and little table areas and an extra little room.  Downstairs was more of a club area I was told, but I didn’t venture to see.  We stayed upstairs where the music was low and non-descript and there was also a terrace.  All in all a very relaxing spot. 

When the self-proclaimed “Queen of All Media” comes to the Big Apple, the devotees come out in droves.  Fans and friends of Perez Hilton, Hollywood’s most hated, um, journalist, flocked to The Grand August 9th to see him host PMbuzz’s quite buzzed about launch party.

Presented by VitaminEnergy, Vitamin Water’s new spawn, with a taste that clearly outshines the Robutussin-y flavor of Redbull, the party was nothing less than classy.  Cheers to the staff of PMbuzz for generating a stylish and smart décor at the cozy club.  Subtle yet promotional items, such as matchbooks and mints, adorned the tables and banquettes along with votives that created a relaxing atmosphere.  However, the red carpet and hum of photographers assured that it was anything but a quiet gathering.

The revelers enjoyed Vita-tinis (VitaminEnergy mixed with vodka.)  Some of the partygoers included one of the main faces of the fashion line Heatherette, Amanda Lepore, and her entourage.  Other attendees included Malan Breton and Austin Scarlett from Project Runway and Nole Marin from America’s next top model.

            The middle of the room hosted a “VIP” area as clubs often do, however the people found inside the tightly enclosed velvet ropes were less than what I’d call “VIP.”  The famed Paris Hilton impersonator, Natalie Reid, was there attempting to seem elite.  After getting a brief close up of her in the bathroom, I’d have to say that anybody who mistakes her as Paris is legitimately blind.  In addition, when wearing sheer white clothing, she should really look into getting some proper undergarments that actually cover her goodies.  This isn’t the playboy mansion; it’s New York City.

            Another disappointment of the evening, which I’m saddened but not surprised to say, was Sir Perez Hilton himself.  I’m not a hater, I’m actually a fan, but seeing the way he treated his other fans was a huge let down.  He enclosed himself within the “VIP” area and barely spoke with his admirers.  Those who did converse with him found him to be rude.  As you’ve written before on your site Perez, “DON’T BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS YOU.”

            The fans, the fans, it’s all about the fans.  Truth be told, I’m not so sure how much of a fan I am anymore.  I’ll admit your site is still a guilty pleasure, but if I weren’t so curious about Nicole’s pregnancy or Lindsay’s trips to rehab, I would probably stop reading it. 

In today’s celebrity-obsessed and celebrity-driven culture, it’s a rare thing to be humble.  Set yourself apart from the snotbags of Hollywood and remember who shot you up to the top, your readers.  Show some appreciation when they drag themselves out on a Thursday night to see you.

            To PMbuzz.com, congrats on a successful and chic launch party.  The guests seemed to enjoy themselves dancing, drinking, and belting out along with the music.