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1/11/02 Went to the David Cross and Super Pals show at Irving Plaza last night. One of my staff members works the door there sometimes, so she got us in on the VIP list. My escort was the lovely Minnie. We stood elbow to elbow with indie and semi-celebrities (yes, there is a difference), and here's the breakdown: Celebrities spotted that impressed me: Janeane Garofalo (So cute and little. We watched her make sweet eyes at a kid hanging out in the lounge, which I'll get to later. The point is, you can see her maternal instinct on her sleeve. It'll be a happy day for all of single cynical chicks everywhere when she finds her true love.) and Jack Black (Kissed the hand of every woman he met. A true gentleman. Minnie and I were swooning.) Semi-celebrities spotted that appeared to be on drugs: Natasha Lyonne (Looks like she's twelve, but cute. Could use a bath. I saw her at the corner store and complimented her on her furry boots and she barely growled a, "Thank you." Bitch.), and Maya Rudolph (Her eyes were the most glazed out of everyone. Again, would it kill you to freshen up a bit before you go out? Also of note: someone told me later that Saturday Night Live has a massage therapist on staff, except their job isn't to massage so much as fuck the guest stars. Nice.) Semi-celebrities spotted that I somehow recognized: Colin Hanks (well-behaved) and Michael Showalter (Never smiled. He might have been on drugs, too.) The show was pretty good. It was free, anyway. I love David Cross, but it went on for a long-ass time. I thought the Girls Guitar Club performance was adorable, maybe my favorite performance of the night. Janeane's set kind of blew, but she's so perfect I don't care. There was a whole bit with small children running around asking for money that I didn't find funny at all. After their performance, a few came to the VIP area and hung out with their parents. It turned odd when David Cross started flashing images of vaginas on an overhead projector. The parents didn't seem the slightest bit concerned that their kids were watching these porn shots. I don't have any kids, though, so what the fuck do I know? There was such a scene going on there, it was hard at times not to be distracted. At one point, Jake Fogelnest turned to me and said, "(The name of the comedian performing) is such an asshole," in a knowing, insidery way, as if I would care. Then, realizing he didn't know me, he turned to someone else and said the exact same thing, so he could receive an eagerly desired knowing, insidery smile in response. He had a really annoying laugh. It was like that up there at the front in the VIP area. Minnie and I just wanted to steal their seats so we could sit down and see the stage so that we didn't have to watch on the monitor, which we did. We didn't need to hear who the assholes are. We can figure that out for ourselves. And the end of the night, Yo La Tengo played, which is always a good thing.
Then we went on and rocked out at the apartment of some guy who apparently co-wrote Road Trip. It was a spacious apartment, complete with pictures of Tom Green on the refrigerator. Everyone was funny and nice and the only drug I saw there was pot, which I refused along with cigarettes. I came home at 4. I am tired and I am being taken out to dinner tonight.
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