My Night with Stephanie Seymour

So my girlfriend's company, the ultra-hip Bumble & Bumble, had a party to officially open their new space in the Meatpacking District (you've come a long way, baby - I remember The Meatpacking district when you couldn't take a step without tripping over a crack vial or a tranny hooker...gosh, I miss those days - now, you can't take a step without tripping over a model or Tara Reid tripping over you)...Why did I go? Free B-B-Q walking distance from apartment...need I say more?

It was theoretically a "country western theme bar-b-que" event so girlfriend wore boots with her short skirt (?) and tied a shirt over her t-shirt (I don't know)...I wore ripped jeans and a regular shirt - the ripped jeans were my idea of "country western themed" since if I was livin' in the ol' west, I woulda certainly fallen off my horse several times a day, ripping my jeans in the process..

So we walk in, she air-kisses a bunch of peeps and twice kisses (one on each cheek) a bunch of other peeps and seeing that few people are dressed country or western, goes to her desk to change into the heels she brought in the event of such noncompliance. I followed her around like a puppy, her grabbing my paw once in a while when I assume I looked extra frightened.

We walk around, her saying "Hi" to assorted co-workers, as I checked out the crowd...and quite the crowd it was....

There were girls dressed like guys
Guys dressed like girls
Girls that were guys
Guys with more make-up than girls
Girls (models) paid to have their hair done higher than wedding cakes, and then walk around
Guy-servants who walked around with appetizers as if they were The Stepford Model-Servants walking a catwalk - all pretty expressionless - actually pretty and expressionless
Stephanie Seymour
A guy who looked like a male Annie Lennox (or a male Boy George) who seemed to bring his own photographer, who followed him around and took pictures
A woman, working for hip designer Heatherette, who wore a wig (presumably) that I can only describe as looking like a snake that ate four rats, five seconds btwn feedings - the hair alternated btwn narrow and thick for about 4 feet - she had her own contingent, I assume to tell her how fabu she looked (as I told my girlfriend, "Some people need security guards...others security blankets")

I don't know if the assorted characters used traditional spray-on hairspray, but if they did, there's a scientist this morning scratching his eyes and recalibrating his instruments becasue he refuses to believe the ozone layer got cut in half overnight.

At one point, my girlfriend was called away, leaving me to talk to her muscle-bound tank-top wearing client alone. The conversation went a little something like this....
"So you just opened a new studio in NY, huh?"
"Yeah, we opened one in Soho...you know where Meets (sp?) is?"
"No."
"Well, it's right over that. I live in NoLita, so I spend all my time downtown...I love it. Much better vibe than uptown. Where do you live?"
"Me? Well, I, spend most of my time at (my girlfriend's), on 24th and 9th...I live, quote unquote, on, ummm, 78th and 1st...but I spend more time here...as I, ummm said."
"Yeah, I'm off to Cannes this week to work on some projects over there...got a few deals brewing."
"Really? What kind of...."
"Then I'm flying to L.A. ..got an office there...have to deal with the network execs."
"I'm going to New Jersey this weekend...nephew's one year birthday party."
"Yeah, these deals should open up whole new avenues."
"I could use a new avenue."
"After that...I'm off to Rio for a little R & R I can use it...after working 15-20 hour days for two months."
"I can't recall the last time I worked 15 hours in a week." He spotted someone he knew.
"Seeya." And he was off. I stood there with my now empty glass and tried to look cool. After 10 seconds, I started panicking and ran off to find my girlfriend.

Too humid to stay for too long on the deck, we walked to the floor where stylists were well, styling models' hair while rock music blared (Welcome to the Jungle seemed especially appropriate for several reasons) - quite frankly, I don't know how they worked with such a racket...

We made our way back to another floor when my girlfriend looked into a corner of the room ans said, "There's Stephanie Seymour."
"What? What?!? WHAAAAAT?!? Where!" I said, not so much as a question but as a demand.
"Over there...she's with XXX XXXX (I forgot his name), that's her stylist...he's associated with Bumble."
And sure enough, there she was....former SI Swimsuit model, Victoria's Secret Model, former paramour of Axel Rose, ankle-tattooed music-video vixen Stephanie Seymour. My girlfriend started rappin' with a few friends while I surreptitiously glanced over at Steph every 1.3 seconds. About the 739th time i did so, she happened to glance my way...our eyes met...not literally, that's kinda gross, but in a figurative, and I'd like to think, spiritual sense. In the .2 seconds, we came to an unspoken understanding...an unspoken understanding that said, "Sure, we are obviously perfect for each other, but alas, we are both taken...cruel fate has kept us apart until it is too late for us to act upon our feelings. Like a freshly made pot of porridge that was left to cool for too long and developed a thin layer of gross film to develop, so too...nah, bad metaphor....more like getting to work late on the one friekin' day someone brought in donuts and seeing chocolate icing remains on the bottom, so too have we come late to the party....not this party, I was quite early actually...where was I? Oh Nevermind."

The funny part to me is that everyone at or associated with Bumble I believe was allowed to bring one guest (hence my presence) - this dude brought Stephanie Seymour - he wins

The people all seemed pretty cool though I didn't have much to say to them - my usual line was something like, "Fun party...much different than my industry parties. We don't have models walking around or people with much hair for that matter"
"What industry are you in?"
"Accounting."
"Oh," said like they were sorry.

The only person who didn't laugh at that was Michael, the owner whom I met when we were leaving. He looked like a cross btwn Mayor Bloomberg and Dudley Moore (before he died) - Continually adjusting the collar of his shirt, he was more than a little uncomfortable with the whole hosting thing. My guess is he probably started in Accounting.

Rock On,

Aitch

Rochester: The City That Never Diets

Rich (my bro), Vic (friend), and I take Jet Blue up there Friday morning - in a Sign of Things to Come, we had chocolate cookies and soda on the plane (also saw an
episode of The White Shadow...that Salami sure was a hothead)....for
breakfast (though Vic I think had a juice box) - While waiting for Matt at
the airport, we begin to notice something is frighteningly amiss
(another Sign of Things to Come) - unless there is a Richard Simmons
convention there this weekend, the place was full (and I mean FULL) of Big
Beautiful Women (as they would probably call themselves).

ANYWAY, We go to Matt's and immediately fire up the que - by 11 AM, we're eating Cheddarwursts (hot dogs with cheese in them) and cheesebugers (those are hamburgers with cheese on them) and drinkin' Ice (Smirnoff natch') - we also opened a box
of fudge stripe cookies (thankfully Matt had several boxes) as well as a
chocolate chip fudge cake (hey, when in Fatopia...).

We go to check Rich and Vic in at Chez Days Inn - they put them in The Last
Room on the Left - odd in that there didn't seem to be anyone occupying any
of the closer rooms judging by the dearth of cars in the lot. We assumed
it was so no one can hear the screams.

So we left Fatropolis and head out to Buffalo (no need to change name) for
the evening. Our first stop is a bar called SoHo's which Matt told us
usually has a lot of hot chicks - well, Matt lied - the only hot chicks
there were the waitresses - the patrons all looked like contestants in a
"Who Has the Biggest Love Handles" contest. On the bright side, they have
a free carving board buffet. Lemmee tell ya, if they had turkey and roast
beef like this at Shawshank, I'm pretty sure Andy woulda never tried to
escape - it was amazing, the kind they must serve at Dorsia. Left there to
go to a Buffalo Bison game (minor league baseball) - we were kinda full at
this point so we just had ice cream, beer, and hot dogs and fries. Rich
was absolutely mesmorized by the crazy capers of the mascots (I think he
may have found his life's calling). The seats at this park I believe were
designed for Japanese midgets. I don't know how three quarters the
population fits. After the game, we went to The Anchor Bar where they
serve The Original Buffalo Wings (something tells me it's like Rays in
Manhattan...every other block has a place claiming that title) - we did a
lousy job eating there though probably understandable given that we haven't
stopped since we got there (Since we were in Buffalo, at a wing place, Vic
got the sausage ravioli...natch')

Saturday morning I wake up to a couple more slices of chocolate chip fudge
cake - also had a pop tart or two - and had some oatmeal (my version of
people who get a supersized Big Mac combo meal...and a Diet Coke). We head
out to a water/amusement park. As I said last year, the chicks at this
place have more tattoos than teeth. The less said about the chicks the
better. Anyway, the company Matt works for has a part stationed off for
free food (two words that are great separately but are magical together).
After going on some of the rides in the morning (Vic and I go on the roller
coasters, the Screaming Eagles, the Wheel of Death, etc - Rich went on the
Tea Cup, the Wheel of Love, etc), we hit the B-B-Q -

What's better than dawgs, burgas, and ice cream sandwiches you ask? FREE dawgs, FREE burgas,and FREE ice cream sandwiches - I ate about four of each as did Rich and
Mat...Vic had a salad with a lovely low-fat raspberry vinagrette. Checked
out the water rides after lunch which were fun though I no longer have a
desire to take an Alaskan cruise to go whale watching (sense a theme
here?). "Ya put a bolt on some of their necks and you'd see villagers
chasing them with torches" (damn I love that line).

Adam joins us and after pitstopping at the house. We change into these
orange "federal prison" shirts (with inmate numbers on the back) that Vic
and Rich brought. I don't think it gets any funnier than that. We head out
to catch a Rochester Red Wings (minor league baseball) game. We ate steak
sandwiches, the Worst Fries Ever (thanks Adam), beer, cotton candy (well, I
did) and ice cream (well, I did). I think Vic ate carrot and celery
sticks. Once again, Rich was mesmorized by the wacky antics of the
mascots. Around the fifth inning, my birthday was announced and was stated
on the scorboard thusly, "HAPPY 50th HARRIS BLOOM" (thanks again Adam...for
those that dont know, it's not my birthday...and I'm nowhere near
50...though I will be leaving the coveted18-34 demographic that advertisers
crave soon). Did I mention how half this town coulda been the
understudy for Gilbert Grape's mom?

After the game we head to Jillian's, a sports bar/game room/bowling
alley/dance club. Good time there - watched some preseason football,
bowled (Matt won...I sucked) and played some air hockey. I chased away
some bachlorette party with my New Yawk charm. Couple of cute chicks there
but overall the pickins were slim (unlike the chicks).

Woke up Sunday and went to The Cracker Barrel for breakfast. I'm assuming
this meal is representative of the average meal eaten in Fattown, USA.
After squeezing our way through the salivating patrons to get to our table,
they started us off with biscuits and a gravy, which looked like lard - the
only think I know that was in it was bits of sausage. It tasted a heck of
a lot better than it looked. My $6 breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs,
hash browns, thick sliced bacon and three large pancakes. After, we went
to Matt's in-law's cottage by the lake where we rode thier boat and ogled
Matt's wife's 21 year old sister. We took some of the bef teriyaki (it
wasn't beef, it was bef) for a last que at Matt's - left Matt's, caught our flight, ate some cookies courtesy of Jet Blue (Vic had animal crackers) and arrived back in sweaty, disgusting...but thin New Yawk last night. Hit my gym this morning. I aint weighing myself for a week...at least.

Rock On,

Aitch