(Have you ever experienced deja vu? We’ll if you’re reading this post, and thinking that it sounds a tad familiar you are. Due to a glitch, the photos that were supposed to accompany this post were not posted, so we had our elves working on getting those photos up over the weekend for your viewing pleasure this morning.)
Our shortest and last flight from Las Vegas to Los Angeles was bittersweet. I knew I would have to say goodbye to the luxury jet to which I had grown so fond over these past…three days? Holy crap, was it only three days?!?! But seriously, they served a lot of cheese on that plane and I’m tearing up just thinking about all the cheese that I could have consumed, had I been able to stay on the plane for at least two more days.
In any case, I had to admit that I was feeling a quite homesick. I missed my smog, asshole drivers and superficiality. In fact, rereading that sentence reminds me why I moved to Los Angeles in the first place. I kid! I love it here. Have you heard? Our weather kicks ass.
More of Lisa’s Jet Set Adventure and many more photos after the Jump.
OK, so it started raining for the first time on this entire trip, which took us through every major time zone of the contiguous U.S. I was still happy to be back. Again, we took a limo trip to the hotel where everyone else except the native Los Angelenos would be spending the night, hooked up for the last Skyy cocktail of the journey, the Skyy Orange Crush (which–interestingly enough–also describes how I feel about Cheetos) and the other jet-setters checked into their hotel rooms, while I took a taxi back to my apartment in Hollywood.
I’m not gonna lie and say it was easy to wake my ass up from the nap I fell into almost immediately upon arriving at the tiny, yet cozy studio apartment I call home. But, I figured that I’d made it too far along this trip to give up now. Either way, there were stars to be photographed! Rumors to be started! I had lots of work to do. Also, there was a free meal involved, and since I’m used to having to put out for such extravagances (I kid! My mother’s totally reading this…), I knew it would be stupid to throw in the towel now.
Back at the Mondrian, we all gathered round our long table full of the faces of the new friends I’d made along this trip to break bread for the last time. Yes, folks, it was almost EXACTLY like the Last Supper–but with cocktails. And I’m pretty sure there were a couple of us competing for the role of Mary Magdalene, but I digress once again…
Dinner was fantastic. I’m usually pretty much a vegetarian, but I made an exception for a bite of the pork ribs (GASP!) and was rewarded with some of the juiciest meat I’ve ever felt slide off a bone. Wow, I’m going to just leave that sentence as is–sorry, Skyy. But the biggest accomplishment was when dessert emerged and I put a hurt on some layered chocolate fudge cake like you wouldn’t believe.
In the pouring rain (???), we made our way to the Skyy Vodka and Maxim Hot 100 party at Stone Rose and once we got there, we were greeted by the DJ stylings of Danny Masterson AKA DJ MomJeans and lots and lots of yummy Skyy Vodka martinis. These people sure know how to make a bitch feel welcome, I’ll tell you what. Ever a sucker for free food, I was very disappointed that I was too full to enjoy the appetizers floating around, but to make up for it, I glutted myself on celebrity photos. Ugly Betty’s Eric Mabius was kind enough to oblige me with a photo, as did Michael Vartan. I spotted Jonathan Schaech, hanging out with Clifton Collins Jr. (of “Capote” fame), as well as some reality stars I recognized as reality stars, but whose names I couldn’t place. Sorry, guys! Apparently, Shanna Moakler and a bunch of other ladies made the party as well, but I totally missed their arrival. Damn. I did manage to catch a glimpse of Macy Gray taking over DJ duties by the end of the evening.
The jet-setters seemed to have enjoyed themselves thoroughly during the course of the entire trip and even a little rain in Los Angeles couldn’t put a damper on their party spirits and I commend them for that. A toast! To Skyy Vodka and all the friends I made on my crazy trip!
I’m OUTTIE, bitches!