Tag Archives: fun

Mad Men Screening

I heard there was going to be a Mad Men event Sunday night in Times Square. According to the paper, there would be costume and trivia contests followed by a screening of the season premiere on a giant screen in Times Square. I’m a big Mad Men fan so this sounded like fun.

It turned out to be a lot more fun than I anticipated.

My friend Damian (who lives for the show and Christina Hendricks) and I arrived at Times Square dressed in 60’s-ish attire. I say 60’s-ish because people really went out of their way to dress up and we just wore whatever looked dated from our closets. Once we navigated past the police blockades, we found ourselves in the middle of Duffy Square where there were rows of chairs set up for the screening. I immediately saw that there were two sections: the commoner section with plastic chairs still wet from the afternoon rainstorm and the VIP section; a section that was right in front of the screen and had complimentary snack and drink service provided by either a cigarette girl or a gentleman in a white suit. Also, since very important people have very important bottoms, the chairs were dry and cushioned.

VIP Seating Area

If I know one thing, I’ve never met a VIP section I didn’t like. Just standing on the other side of the rope, breathing all that average people air, made me feel itchy. I knew we were going to have to try and sneak into the VIP section but I wasn’t sure of the best way to go about this. I started by asking one of the men with a VIP badge how I could get a seat in the VIP area, since I consider myself (and always have) a very important person.

“Well, it’s sold out, but since there was all the rain there might be some no shows. You can ask them and I think they’ll probably let you in. I’d wait until later though.”

If I couldn’t hear the words, “I’ll take you in there myself” followed by him actually taking me in, I had to work on another plan, even if that did sound potentially promising.

I walked around to do some surveillance. I needed to find a weak spot where there was no security and ticket takers to stop us. It also needed to be congested enough for us to slip by, undetected. I found the perfect spot at the edge of square, where the velvet ropes were low enough to casually step over and into the VIP area. A few others gathered near the spot, for sure thinking the same thing. I knew if they saw us step over, they’d throw the hater card down and tell security. We played it cool and waited for the narcs to be distracted by something glittery.

However, we were all distracted by the crazy lady who marched by holding a three foot high plastic doll that was wrapped up in cellophane just like how a basket is wrapped for Easter. She stepped over the rope and into the VIP section. And no one stopped her. What?! SHE’S HOLDING A GIANT PLASTIC DOLL PEOPLE!

To say that was infuriating would be an understatement. But if she could make it in…

Everything after this happened very quickly. Security came over and started to clear the area. We pretended like we couldn’t hear them, until they asked us if we were in the costume contest. If we were, we needed to go into the VIP area and wait in line to be judged.

Uhhh, of course we’re here for the costume contest! Can’t you tell? We are marginally dressed as 60’s hepcats!

My dress is polyester... so that counts as a costume right?

We stepped over the rope and instead of joining the line, defected to a pair of seats. There was over an hour left until the screening started and the wait was agonizing. Once you get into a VIP area you’re usually good to go, but we didn’t want to risk someone asking us where our wrist bands were and get kicked out so we tried to keep a low profile.

But when they’re handing out Mad Men gift bags…

I flung my naked wrist to grab the attention of one of the people handing out the gift bags. I told him I didn’t get one and he asked where my wrist band was. I didn’t know how to respond to that so I stared at him, stupidly, until he realized that’s not a question you ask someone already sitting in the VIP section. He handed me my gift bag and walked away. Damian refused to make eye contact with me after that exchange.

“You just had to have the gift bag didn’t you?”

The rest of the night continued without incident. Turns out, the crazy lady with the doll was a participant in the costume contest. She came as Betty Draper (even though she was wearing a black dress and didn’t brush her hair) and the doll was Sally. A nice surprise was that January Jones and Elisabeth Moss showed up to present the episode. They both looked amazing, although J. Jones is really skinny. I loved both their dresses.

It was also Elisabeth’s birthday the night before, so a cake out was brought out and we sang Happy Birthday to her. I love Elisabeth Moss. She seems so nice and genuine. I want to be friends with her and all the ladies on Mad Men.

Happy Birthday Lizzie!

After the screening, they handed everyone in the VIP section Mad Men Barbie Dolls. I loooooove classic barbie dolls and was thrilled with my Joan barbie.

Me and Joanie

Barbie Joan on my desk makes me happy.

To top off the night, we went to the unofficial “after-party” at the W hotel and had martini’s and listened to music from 1964. Then we went on a drunken rampage and trashed Don’s old office.

It was a pretty swell night.



Filed under Party Crashing

Guest Post: How to Have your Brush with Fame

I am excited to announce my first guest post! The post comes from my cousin, Lauren Fitzpatrick. You should read it because she’s related to me and that makes her awesome.

How to Have Your Brush With Fame

As exciting as it is to be an international superstar, it is a full time job. Sometimes just breathing the same air as your favorite celebrity is enough. If you are looking for a taste of superstardom on the low to moderate scale, here are five different ways that you, too, can mingle with the stars.

  • Find out where the stars are, and get there before they do. I’m not talking about stalking here, people (Hello? That’s illegal.). I’m talking about the one place that celebrities want you to be at, nay need you to be at… the movie premiere. Celebrities attend these premieres with the full expectation that YOU are going to be there. Someone has to keep them famous, right? It’s like a party that you didn’t need an invite for because Brad Pitt already assumes you are going to be there. His people told your people. Movie premieres are listed online. All you have to do is show up.

When I was a naïve 22-year-old in London, I turned up in Leicester Square six hours before the scheduled start time for the premiere of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. The festivities started over an hour late, by which time I was trapped in a crush of screaming hormones and afraid for my life. It was all worth it when the stars appeared, because I was a full foot taller than those around me and able to take clear photos for my cousin’s future blog. Nifty huh?

Of course, this tip is only useful if you are within traveling distance of a major city, where premieres are being held. Otherwise, bad luck.

  • Find out who they are before they get famous. Back in 1999, my friend Anne and I heard that a little band known as the Dixie Chicks were passing through the Indiana State Fair. Their star was on the rise then (it has since plummeted from the sky in a cloud of disintegrating dust), so they were still playing free concerts. We walked straight up to their tour bus so Anne could ask Natalie Maines her one burning question:

Excuse me,” she said to Natalie, “What inspired y’all to write There’s Your Trouble? Because that’s, like, my life story.”

Oh, we didn’t write that, darlin’,” Natalie drawled, scribbling autographs on our fair tickets in bold permanent marker. “Sorry.”

The point is, who had Natalie’s autograph taped to their scrapbooks when the Dixie Chicks became super famous country music stars, struggling under the weight of multiple Grammy awards? We did.

  • Seek out your connections. Use them shamelessly. Do you know someone who has a second cousin that works backstage on the set of Grey’s Anatomy? Give them a call. Become their friend. When they mention what they do for a living, act surprised and unimpressed. A nonchalant approach works best. If they think you are a crazed fan, the likelihood of being invited onset drastically diminishes.

I had a friend in London whose husband was a producer for the Graham Norton show. This is sort of like the Conan O’Brien show, only more politically incorrect. My boyfriend and I attended a taping as the producer’s guests, followed by canapés in the green room with former tennis star Martina Navratilova. We also got the inside gossip about guest Brendan Fraser being whacked out on drugs during the entire taping. Guess Encino Man never really grew out of his character.

  • Pure dumb luck. By this, I mean karma. Are you the kind of person who reads People magazine online and can recite celebrity baby names by heart? If so, you are on the right track. The universe will reward you with a random celebrity sighting, straight from the pages of US magazine.

I was with renowned international superstar, Sarah Walker and my sister, on the streets of NYC at the time of my first RCS.

Is that-“ Sarah asked.

I think it is,” I answered.

What are you guys talking about?” Megan shouted.

It’s Drew Barrymore,” Sarah whispered.

Drew? Drew who?” Megan shouted.

Drew, walking in front of us with her boyfriend at the time, Strokes drummer Fabrizio Moretti, turned at the sound of her name.

Ssh,” I hissed.

Who is Drew?” Megan insisted.

Drew Barrymore is right in front of us,” Sarah explained quietly.

What – ohmigod! Drew Barrymore!”

At this point, Drew & Fabrizio hailed a cab, stepping off the curb and out of our lives forever.

Well, that was exciting,” said Megan, returning to a normal volume.

Build it, and they will come.

  • Enter contests, preferably radio. This is pretty self explanatory but here are two examples of how I used contests to my advantage.

In my youth, I was a misguided NSYNC fan. This lasted for approximately two years, and nine concerts, at two of which I sat front row. All I had to do was win a radio contest titled, “What would you do for NSYNC tickets?” I sat in a trash can full of icy water. One girl drank dirty bathwater out of a shoe worn while mowing the lawn. Another shaved her head. I won, all because I had brought the largest contingent of crowd support. My prize was a radio breakfast with opening act Soul Decision and front row tickets to the concert.

The following year, two members of NSYNC appeared at an Indianapolis bowling alley to judge a radio karaoke contest. My friends and I appeared on stage in sparkly bellbottoms and afros, singing a killer version of ‘I will survive.’ JC Chasez gave us a ’10.’ Although we failed to win the second round, having drawn the unfortunate song ‘Music’ by Madonna, the day was a resounding success.

Where there are radio stations, there are contests. Enter them. Win. Rejoice.


Lauren Fitzpatrick is an international superstar by birth. She has traveled to over 30 countries and is in the process of moving to South Korea for the year to teach English. You can follow her travels at www.blogabouteurope.typepad.com.


Filed under Superstar Advice

Que Pasa Peru!

No seriously, I want to know. What is happening, Peru?!?! My trip is not going as planned! And I don’t want to point fingers buuuuuut……I think it’s sorta your fault.

Peru and I started off fabulously. In fact, as I was sitting in my taxi to Huacachina, I was thinking how easy traveling in South America was and— oooh! Look! There’s a desert over there!

I decided to make the first stop on my trip Huacachina, a resort town built around a real oasis in the desert.

This sounds super chic and luxurious but instead of movie stars and wealthy Peruvians cavorting in the healing waters of the oasis imagine a bunch of drunk backpackers and Peruvian families on holiday. A tad overwhelming for the traveler looking for a peaceful night in the desert. Know this. If you go to Huacachina be ready to party.

My taxi driver dropped me off at the Casa De Arena hostel. According to Scary Planet, excuse me, I mean Lonely Planet, women should avoid this place entirely. I would say to stay away only if you don’t like cheap beer, loud music that sounds good after drinking that cheap beer and hate fun.

As soon as the temperature cooled, I signed up for a dune buggy/sandboarding tour of the desert.

I love roller coasters, cliff jumping, fire-baton twirling… anything that increases my adrenaline flow. However, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something this stomach churning. The dune buggy ride was insaaaane. The dunes are enormous so when you come flying over one, it feels exactly like being on a roller coaster. Except that the security of knowing this will all be over in 90 seconds is replaced with pleaseletthisbeoverwe’vebeenonthisthingfor30minutesI’mgoingtohurl tears.

After we climbed up what seemed like the Everest of sand dunes, the entire buggy begged the driver to stop. I was certain if we went down this dune the buggy would flip all the way back to Huacachina. The driver laughed and said something in Spanish. Everyone on the buggy laughed and cheered, except me, the girl in remedial Spanish class. Repeat-o mas slowly por favor??

It was time to sandboard. Since I was the only one who spoke english, therefore making me the most dispensable, I was pushed to go first. I decided boarding on my stomach would be the way to go.

The driver gave me the best instructions that he could. The only thing I could understand was, “Rapido! Rapido!” I tried to ask if there was a smaller dune I could have a practice run on but as I was asking he pushed me down the dune. So much for that.

To be honest, I’m glad he pushed me. I’m embarrased I was lame enough to ask for a smaller dune. Boarding down the big dune was a rush but it wasn’t scary. I immediately wanted to go again. Some spanish and finger pointing informed me that I could go as far I as I wanted.

Adios suckers!

Three dunes later, I stood completely alone in the desert. I had sandboarded so far I could no longer hear the screams from my group as they took their turns down the dunes. The only thing I could hear was… silence. Pure silence. The kind of silence you hear when you are dead.

This got me thinking.

Is God about to speak to me a la Eat Pray Love style?

I mean, really. If there was any time and place for God to give me some divine insight this should be it right? I’m alone in a desert, the sun is setting, the dunes are rolling forever into the horizon and the first stars of the night are coming out. Come on God! Speak. The setting is perfect. Hello??? Did you not hear me?

Talk to me, SARAH WALKER. Right now. I dare you.



Geez, not even a cough or a sneeze?

Fiiiine. I didn’t want to talk to you either.

Later that night, I met a fun group of people from all over. We went out to dinner and when the restaurant couldn’t accommodate us inside with a table, the owner came out placed a spare one on the sidewalk.

The party continued back at Casa De Arena’s disco. The memory of the night is hazy but I do remember shouting on the dance floor, “I’m having so much fun I could die!” I know, obnoxious. But if it makes you feel any better, I would really regret saying that in the next couple of days.


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My week in photos: Peru Edition

If you are my friend in real life or on Facebook, chances are you’ve already seen most of these. But for those who haven’t seen them, here are some of my favorite photos from my trip to Peru. Next week I’ll start blogging about the trip and the crazy stuff that happened. And trust, this was the most challenging trip I’ve ever been on.

This is a legitimate oasis in the middle of the desert.  Huacachina is a small town that sprouted up around the oasis and it used to be a resort town for super rich Peruvians.  Now it’s more of a backpacker hangout where you can sandboard during the day and party all night.

This is a photo of me atop a desert dune. I’m still finding sand in those shoes two weeks later.

Photo of the street where my hostel (the fantastic Loki Hostel)in Cuzco was located. I didn’t get altitude sickness but it was difficult to breathe that high up. Believe or not, climbing a massive hill to my room did not encourage the flow of air into my lungs.

Some ladies I photographed in the square. It’s a nice photo but the photo I really wanted was me holding that baby alpaca. It didn’t go over well when I tried to take the alpaca into my arms. So. This is what I had to settle for.

This is the church in the village of Oropesa. This was definitely a highlight of my trip. The village was beyond beautiful.

Another shot of Oropesa. The sky is so blue!

I’m pretty sure this bedspread is the most awesome thing I saw on my trip. Machu Picchu  can’t hang with these green eyed pandas.

A village I passed during my casual stroll to Machu Picchu.

I lied. It is anything but a casual stroll to Machu Picchu! But it’s worth it and here’s what it looks like when you get there!

This is from the top of Wayna Picchu. Apparently, if you want, you can hike an additional hour to the top and sit on four pointy rocks and take photos from super high up. I think it’s worth it if you can manage the hike.

If you want to see the rest of the photos, check out my flickr page. http://www.flickr.com/photos/sarahskywalker/ Yeah, I had to get a flickr page because my parents don’t trust facebook. I probably shouldn’t either.

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The Richard Branson Project: Official Launch

Not all international superstars are created equal. There are those who sparkle when a sun beam falls upon them or float as though he or she is an angel. Some only need a first name. Others are known for their clothing/perfume/media empires.


Only one has created a space plane. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/8400353.stm

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I won’t bore you with claims that Sir Richard stole my idea, nor will I place the blueprints of my own space plane on here to validate the claims I said I wouldn’t bore you with. There’s a more serious matter to discuss.

I am not currently at a place where I have the resources to design my own space plane. And if I can’t create a simple little thing like that, then how am I ever going to be able to teleport back to the time when Atlantis was destroyed so I can rebuild it, rename it Your Mom and then teleport back through time, stopping off in Italy mid-Renassaince period to paint puppies on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and snag the Mona Lisa for my living room? The live one, not the painting. Beat that art snobs!

I have to face reality. I’m just not a big enough superstar to get all that accomplished. Yet.

Which is why, today, I am pleased to announce the launch of The Richard Branson Project, or RBP, for short.

As a mid-level international superstar, the RBP will follow my attempt to enter the upper levels of superstardom by becoming Richard Branson’s friend. Everyone knows the quickest way fame jump is to be friends with someone already at the level you want to be at. Remember how Nicolas Cage helped Johnny Depp by introducing him to his agent? Johnny hopped on the A-List train and never looked back. Kim Kardashian is another fine example. She used to be just another Paris Hilton tag-a-long. Now I don’t even remember what Paris looks like. That’s fame jumping done right.

This is a modest project with achievable goals. All I am looking for is a standing invitation to Necker Island (RB’s private island), a couple of photos ops here and there, a press release in Vanity Fair, People, and the Wall Street Journal about our new friendship, a five minute video interview for this blog, and oh heck, let’s throw in a free ride to space.

I will document my progress when necessary on this blog. I’m fairly confident I will be successful on most, if not all, of my goals.

And if you missed it the first time, check out my soon-to-be favorite vacation spot, Necker Island, on MTV’s Cribs.

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Happy Hope your Taxes are Done Day!

Did you use Turbo Tax or go to an accountant? I used to go to an accountant but money’s been tight the past couple of years. I miss my accountant. She was nice and always saved me money. The first time I went to her she said, “You gotta look out for you.” Then she punched a guy in the face.


It was my first year living in New York City. I was 21, going to acting school and waitressing to pay the rent.

“Welcome to Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, a theme restaurant that revolves around a movie that came out over ten years ago! Would you like me to serve you my dignity now or later?”

One day I got a letter from corporate headquarters. I thought it was a thank you card or gift certificate to Best Buy for being such a good waitress. Nope, just my W2 form announcing it was time to file my taxes.

Thanks corporate! This is just what I need to remind me that I don’t get paid enough to be a dancing monkey for your restaurant. Let me walk over to H&R Block so they can remind me too!

This was the first time I made enough money to make filing my taxes a requirement. I don’t know if you remember what it was like to file your taxes for the first time. It’s a pretty intimidating experience. There are a lot of numbers and personal questions involved. I’m not good with either of those so the idea of spending my afternoon dealing with both of those things produced considerable anxiety.

When I arrived at the office for my appointment, I met Tosha. She was a petite African American woman with a friendly smile.

“Come on back. Nothing to be worried about.”

I believed her.

Tosha started to look over my paperwork. She invited me to sit down at her cubicle. So I did. It was located toward the back half of the office. My chair faced the front door. Tosha and her desk were between me and the door making it difficult for me (if I had wanted to) to escape/make a run for it. This is a very important detail to remember. A windowless bathroom was to my right.

About a handful of people who had appointments waited in the front. One man came in who did not have an appointment. He demanded that Tosha answer all his questions.

“How much is this property tax? I ain’t paying it.”

“I’m married. That helps right?”

“I still don’t understand. Man, I don’t have time for this shit.”

As this went on it became clear that the man was unstable. Tosha kindly told him that she didn’t have the answers and he would have to see a specialized tax accountant.

“No. You answer me now.” And he threw his papers onto her desk. That’s when Tosha turned to me and said…

“You gotta look out for you.”

I didn’t have time to process that statement before she stood up, knocked his papers to the floor and then, in a very deliberate manner, stepped on them in her four inch lime green stiletto heels, leaving tiny heel piercings on this man’s tax documents.

“You bitch.”

It was at this moment I realized things were not going to end well and I was trapped. As Tosha threw her first punch, I watched as everyone else scattered out onto the street.

“Get the cops!” someone yelled from outside.

Save me! I thought as the walls of the cubicle came crashing down on top of me. The man had thrown Tosha against it. She wasn’t hurt but now she was going to make him pay. Her words, not mine.

People always wonder what flashes through a person’s mind when they are in a situation like this. Here’s what went through mine.

Someone here is going to have a gun.

Overly dramatic? Maybe. But that’s what Papa Walker taught me when I was seven years old. “You never know who will have a gun so always be on the lookout and get down if you ever hear shots.”

So I hit the floor and crawled army style to the bathroom. I crouched behind the door and listened as the fight continued.

I couldn’t tell who was winning for a while. There was some muffled scuffling and I heard Tosha mutter, “Who’s the bitch now?” I poked my head out and saw her pinning the man to the ground, twisted on his back like a pro wrestler, sans shirt, her lacy black bra on display for all to see.

Two cops walked in and I darted back behind the door. No way was I going to the precinct to be a witness for this mess.

Tosha and the man decided they would not press charges against each other. I could feel the air settling and the threat of danger was now being replaced with the sweet promise of opportunity. I knew all I had to do was wait until the cops left and my taxes would be done for free.

“Oh you’re still here?” Tosha said as I emerged from the bathroom. “Sorry bout that, let’s finish taking care of you.” We shared a laugh over how stupid men are and she did my taxes at no cost.

Today I salute all the Tosha’s of the world. Thank you for throwing it down and getting your clients the biggest refund possible. Godspeed.


Filed under That's Not Real

My Week in Photos

I had an unusually high number of social engagements this week. First, there was crashing the Bounty Hunter after party…

Then I went to an advanced screening of Repo Men…

I wish Jude Law would come and repo this from my memory.

Acefest and Backstage magazine had a networking party for all the bright young things in the city.

It was ok. I don’t know how you’re supposed to “network” when you can’t hear yourself talk. Turn the bass down yo!

There were a couple of other events  I attended that were paparazzi free. I went to a fundraiser for a brand new web-series, Mother Eve’s Secret Garden of Sensual Sisterhood. Say that 5 times fast. I’ve Got Munchies, a sketch show on the Manhattan News Network had their first live show/giveaway. I won a T-Shirt. I love winning free clothes. And I can’t confirm this but I think I was tricked into being a contestant on a Japanese game show. If not… well, we’ll meet again giant Hello Kitty samurai.

On to my favorite day of the week… Trash Treasure Day!

It was looking to be an average week for my block but then I found this Christmas tree.

I know. It’s hard. I wish Christmas was every day too.

Check out these guys I found on the side of an apartment building. What are they? They’re not gargoyles. Monks? Philosophers? Family members of the building owner? I don’t know but I like them.

This one is my favorite. He looks so wise.

*My Week in Photos will be taking a two week hiatus due to my upcoming travels*

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