Who doesn’t love a good train wreck like Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears? For us “ordinary folk” (those of us who wear Old Navy, drink PBR and dream of tetris being an Olympic sport) there’s nothing like a healthy dose of tabloid exploitation on those who live in (what at least appears to be) an alternate universe… where dogs wear juicy couture, cars come equipped with mini-bars, breasts double as flotation devices and pocket lint is laced with cocaine.

Is it true though? Or are the tabloids just running exaggerated fantasies to harpoon mass appeal? It’s hard to know because these grandiose lifestyles are perpetuated by the attention drawn to them (unless the celebrity is actually talented). Case in point — the Kardashian sex tape.

Bad publicity is good publicity, I suppose… especially for the venues that become associated with celebrity attendance (who doesn’t want to go to places where you might see a rockstar in a bar fight or catch Paris Hilton stripping down to… well… a slightly more naked version of her usual self?).

When talking about club publicity, nothing turns up the temp on a particular venue more than the drug habits of the celebrities. The scandalous behaviors of one Miss Britney Spears has made headlines for a variety of clubs in New York including an all time personal favorite, Marquee. Yes, she has been caught using drugs in the public bathrooms all around town and she’s not the only one. The question then becomes, of course, how many drugs are being done in these places? Certainly you run a high risk (pun intended) of being caught abusing drugs if you are a celebrity, but what about us ordinary folk? Are drugs swimming through the clubs as the tabloids would have us believe? Read More »

So, I’ve moved to NYC for the summer, and my cousin/roommate has wasted no time in introducing me to her glamazon downtown world of secret clubs, semi – big names and other assorted good – looking people who have Blackberries for no reason (seriously, I feel Amish with my two – year old cell phone. But even if I somehow scrounged up the cash for a Blackberry, I would never use it. I’d feel pathetic because I get about one text message per month. From my mom).

Anyway. I feel a little weird being around all these quasi – famous and ultra rich young hipsters. I can easily pass for one of them, but deep down I’m nothing but a simple farm girl. Which makes the prospect of dating a pseudo – socialite tricky. I automatically assume that all the Blackberry boys are wayyyyy out of my league. I mean, all they need to do is look at my cell phone to see I’m nothing like the other Kirsten Dunst clones.

Strangely, though, fancy suitors are competing for my attention left and right. But I’m having trouble letting down my air of mystique for fear that they will discover my true identity and deem me below their league. Read More »