Now we sip champagne when we thirst-ay...

I felt like I was living in a dream yesterday. Or floating along on a movie set. Everything was larger than life and fabulous and fun. It couldn't have been real.
********************************

My day started off with gym and a 'bucks, as predicted on my Bee Day agenda. Had to skip out on the yoga, but merda santa was it worth it.

Picked up my friend Emily in a cab, hair still wet and thrown up in a bun, makeup being applied en route. We zipped on over to JFK for the aforementioned Entourage party. Let's get a little background music up in this bitch. Got to be Biggie.


We arrived at the airport and, much to my surprise, the party was taking place outside in a private hangar. Em and I walked the red carpet like pros—well, actually more like complete amateurs—all 500 feet of it. And at the end...



...an Entourage plane and two leggy brunettes, dressed in black tops masquerading as dresses, serving up the champers. Dom Perignon. Oh, it was ON.

Em and I parked ourselves at one of the white leather couches and let it all soak in. I chased down my Dom with a Cosmo. Jay-Z on the loudspeakers. No sign of Turtle, no Johnny Drama. We sipped, we chewed, we waited.

Finally, about two hours in, we saw some movement. From behind the hangar emerged six men, who quickly boarded the plane's rear entrance. A woman who addressed herself as the VP of Marketing for Virgin America got on the red carpet and thanked everyone for coming to thel..sndaghsoeifdh...#dojhsdk32

Whatever.

Perry Farrell screams over the loudspeaker, "Here we go!" and out walk Virgin CEO Sir Richard Branson, Entourage creator Doug Ellin, and the boys.


Branson doing the pee-pee dance. Johnny Drama in mid-calf gym socks and Jordans from '02. E, Turtle. Vince looking like my birthday present.

The cast stepped down from the plane and onto the red carpet to answer questions. About 99% of the crowd was press, and so this was an opportunity for Virgin and HBO to announce their partnership, plug season 5 of Entourage, and promote the new route from JFK to Vegas, now available on Virgin America. (Shit, they even got me to say it.)

This is also the time for press to ask really stupid questions, like: "Hi guys. I'm Tammy from People. And I was wondering, if you were running for President, who would your running mate be?" (Note: EVERYONE but Drama and Richard Branson said Richard Branson. Tools.)


Here's my boy Turtle, trying to pull a hit off the bottle.


And there's Vinnie, posing with some uber-chic Harajuku lover, and Drama in his cool getup. I'm thinking they were told to dress as their characters? Hoping.

After the Q&A, the boys climbed the stairs back onto the plane. And then the Virgin America chic and the Harajuku lover and about 100 more pigs-in-shit joined them for a FLIGHT TO LAS VEGAS! Oh yes. Turns out the party Emily and I were at was just the pre-party. The real party took place on the plane, which then continued over in Vegas with Hef and the Bunnies! I am not lying.

Pretty f'ing fantastic press move if I've ever seen one. And, for the record, the old Bee would've finagled her way onto the plane and shaken her ass, showgirl style, like a champ. (Beefy, I see you nodding your head!) But, alas, it was time to blow that joint. Lloyd and Ari were a no-show, and there was a birthday cake waiting for me downtown...


There it is! There's my birthday cake! Oh, Abigail...

The Lorick show was absolutely UNBELIEVABLE. I have never, no NEVER, seen anything like this. Model-turned-designer Abigail Lorick is a genius, as is the PR team at Archetype Showroom, where my friend Steven pimps out Lorick and other up-and-comers like The Cast. There were, I'd guess, eight or nine scenes set up throughout the space. Each was like a vignette, complete with models sprawled out on chaises, walking amongst broken glass and shattered chandeliers, and shoving cake in their mouths, Hungry Like the Wolf style. Can you even TAKE it?!






OMFG it's Miss Havisham! I wanted to hug this little lovely one, and share with her some tea and crumpets, and ask her about the Roaring Twenties and days of moonshine in speakeasies. Perhaps she was Abigail's grandmother? Or just a fantabulous octogenarian model? LOVE. And reminded me of a dream I once had...

But there's more! Just take it all in. The clothes, the colors, the gluttony of it all...










Oh, I could've stayed and soaked it all in forever. I wanted to go to the after-party, to throw back shots with Meyer and Steven, to compare frocks with Blake Lively and Leighton. Oh how Paige had begged of me to dance on top of tables with the GGs and siphon all their secrets into my curious little ears...

But, alas, it was my bee day and I had a date with Paulie, the pooches, and Eli. Manning, that is. Champers + cosmos + delish St. Germain cocktails + beer = time to go home. Plus, food was on the brain. No, really. See?


And so I hopped outside to catch a cab before I turned back into a pumpkin. Paulie was waiting, pad thai was on the table, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the city.

********************************

My friends, I want to thank you for what was truly one of the best birthdays of my life. All day I got sweet messages on this lil bee-log, and on my Facebook, and in my cell phone, and I believe I even saw a cloud shaped like a Bee. Just for me! Sweet Vana and Ali B even bestowed upon me the most brazilliant of all prizes. See?


All for me.

********************************

This morning I woke up with a barely-there headache. I waltzed my way over to Starbucks, still smiling from my glorious day, dreaming of beehives and brooches and buttercream frosting. It felt as if I was walking on air. As if I could ju--

WHOOOT!!!! What the --- WHOOOOOT! There goes my skirt! There it goes again! Up over my thong and underneath my armpits!

ASS. CHEEKS. EVERYWHERE.

Laughter from a construction worker. Or maybe an evil puppeteer. A karmic regulator slapping my white rump back into reality. POP! POP! The bubble deflating...

But it did feel good to be Cinderella for a day.