Hey, they're in Seattle! One of my favorite cities in the U.S. I was so deeply bummed when I got a rejection letter from the Seattle Times, one of the few independently owned newspapers in America. Working for corporate-owned media is not as much fun as the alternative -- another reason I thank god for my job here at TWoP. TelevisionWithoutPity.com: Still independently-owned (since 1999, sucka), still cool, and woo hoo, I just got a raise! Whereas the two corporate-owned dailies in Philly I work for keep eliminating content, jobs, and their freelance budget. Yikes. Anyway, Seattle is great. To the strains of some coffee shop rock/fake Dave Matthews (Jason Mraz, maybe? I hate coffee shop rock), Jake strolls out of a massive mansion and surveys the gathering of wedding guests. He smiles -- I bet he feels free to be among strangers, away from work, and his chances of getting laid are better than average. Weddings are great places to score. I should know; my mom's been married four times, and I've attended three of them. But this isn't Tales From My Mom's Harem, oh no, can you see where I'm going? It's Tales From Alex's Harem. This week, I'll tell a recent adventure.
How recent? Last Wednesday. HBO, a little channel on cable you may have heard about, had a party in my hometown of Philadelphia to launch their On Demand service. Thank godfully, they had it at one of the swankier joints in town, Buddakan, and the booze was incredibly free-flowing. I brought one my high-ranking harem members, Funhouse, along. Boy, does he clean up good. It was a party filled with swells. Cynthia Nixon, Lorraine Bracco, members of the Sixers, and Senator Vince Fumo were all there. But Funhouse and I had one goal. Well, maybe two. To look fucking hot, and to drink a lot of free booze. We were nicely dressed; now for the drinks. As Funhouse whispered dirty-sweet somethings into my ear, I plied him with dirty Pravda martinis and guzzled champagne with Pimms. Then, I had a bad idea. Tequila. I mean, it was an all-the-way-open bar. The place is high class. Ourselves, not so much. We chased shots of tequila with Sapporo. By the end of the evening, we were snuggled on a banquette, eating chocolate petit fours Funhouse called "glorified Little Debbie's." It was all we could do to keep our hands off each other. I don't think we succeeded. Then I stupidly gave my card to someone who wanted to audition for my harem, and he called me three times in 48 hours. I'm not calling that guy back -- too Swingers for my tastes. Afterwards, Funhouse and I went to Bob and Barbara's, where I teetered around on my vintage YSL patent leather open-toe stilettos and don't remember much -- just that I was smashed, baby. Smashed with a hot guy on my arm. I love having a harem. I love an open bar. And that night will go down as One of the Drunkest Fun Times Ever, as will my night when I saw Iggy and the Stooges at Roseland and we started and finished at Russian Samovar.
Back to work, back to the action on screen. Jake's surveying the collection of cleanly-dressed wedding guests. And there's the groom! He and Jake hug, and Groom busts on Jake's "ratty jacket." Jake says he "can't believe [Groom] is still losing [his] hair." Hey! No hitting below the belt at a wedding! Groom can't believe his time has come, he thought he'd be the last to go. Jake says no, that would be him. He asks if he's the only single person there. Groom says, "Didn't you come with Sarah?" Yeah, but then there's that cock-block, Alex. God, I hate that guy!