Before 2007 fades into history (history, dammit!), Liz Taylor Jr. celebrated her birthday, notwithstanding that her latest amour, a yummy, young fellow, flew up from his Caribbean-isla home, but not before he advanced two cases of Perrier Jouet and three dozen orange roses to NYC. Now that's a statement. Pedro's got my vote.
Who but Surfer Girl to upstage LT Jr., and on the latter's own anniversaire?
And so, to paraphrase, from the story delivered not from the honeyed lips of "she-who-challenges-the-Ditch-Plains-break," but from the distillation of the drunken bacchanal that ensued in honor of LT Jr. Yep, an email, photos shared.
The birthday dinner (the birthday bash started the festivities the week before at Niki Beach), was held at Phillipe Chow's, a kind-of offshoot from the 80s-dinosaur, Mr. Chow. Surfer Girl commented that she nearly went blind from all the ice on parade (unlike my concern during this procedure), the likes of which would cost as much as her entire apartment building.
I'll bet the blingerati stared harder at our girls, as maitres d' escorted them through the dining rooms, through the kitchen, "Goodfellas" style to the private cellar, where their gussied-up table awaited.
No mention was made of actual food. Drink was. Oh, and...
"When dessert was served, I got up, clinged (?) my wine glass for everyone's attention, and announced, 'If anyone needs sugar for their coffee or tea, I got the goods.'"
At which point, Surfer Girl unzipped the front of her top and flashed all fifteen people at the table, in addition to three waiters, and two other adjacent dinner parties.
"My candy bikini top." (Recall photos, above.)
Her quickie backstory (my asides in italic, parenthetically): "A few months ago, I was getting drunk (I am shocked) in Chelsea with my best gay boyfriend (duh), when our bartender hooked me up with a bikini top made of candy. It's the same candy used to make candy bracelets, the ones that ice cream trucks display, hanging next to the ring pops."
To me, they look a confectionery version of puka shells. C'mon now, retro 70s-chic, I saw a resurgence out East last summer on (ahem) younger fellas. But back to Surfer Girl, baring her almost-all, chez Phillipe's cellar tables.
"There were three people at out table whom I had just met. I doubt they'll be forgetting me. I had to give a Tara Reid apology, the 'nip-slip,' because I had no control over my candies."
Now take a harder look at those photos.
"The waiters told me to come back very soon."
Heck, I just jealous of her tan!
The fur hat-and-jacket poses came later, reportedly four-something in the morning. Note what appears to be an empty bottle of designer vodka. Even if it is a water bottle, I'm wagering the contents were swapped out for something Russian. Da!
My sweet tooth just got sweeter
Say what you like about 2 cases & 3 dozen orange (wtf!) roses - but, it's not subtle, is it?
Posted by: Jeff | Wednesday, January 09, 2008 at 03:06 PM
I want to be Holly Hodder. And Colorado misses you, too!
Posted by: Manny Rodrigues | Monday, February 04, 2008 at 01:54 AM