#WTF: About last night ... Can I get a rundown? (#VMAs2012, earthquake)

I. Can't. Stop. Laughing. 

Last night, not only did I meet Carlton but I got to kill the cool kids with KINDNESS!!!!! I can't BELIEVE our trivia rivals were there!!!! 

Hold on, again, and as usual, I'm getting ahead of myself ... here's the song that goes with the post ... 

So, last week I got a call from a buddy of mine letting me know that the official MTV VMAs after party was going to be held at Bar Marmont.

This is going to be dancing on stage with Prince level awesome. Want me to get you in? he asked

I grimaced on the phone thinking, I've LITERALLY had SO MANY adventures ... I'm so so so so over it, but yes, fine. Shiny plastic people. Yes, it tells a good story. 

Content. 

Content. 

Content. Keep bringing the content, Friel. (This is why lifecasting has a life cycle. I'm now doing things strictly for the story.) 

He then told me the time he was going to get there and instructed me to call him. 

Flash forward to last night, and it is now that time. 

For protection of my friend I can't say who he is, nor my connection to him - but either way, I get there do exactly as instructed and I get a big fat "Not tonight, sweetheart."

I then text my buddy and he said he tried. 

Really? Really? I thought. I didn't even WANT to be here in the first place let alone all fancy panted up and everything. 

I then stand against the wall on Sunset and ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL of these photographers start running snapping pictures with books in their hands. 

This was literally THE party to be at and every car that rolled up was piled with famous people. 

Wow, I thought, these aren't even fans - these are just the people that sell the photos on ebay. What a horrid existence having to deal with these people. 

Out of respect, I did not touch my phone. 

I am not going to be this person, I thought. It is one more picture online and I do NOT condone this. 

I then started tweeting all of the random overheards from the photographers ... 

These people suck at life, I kept thinking. It's not even their fault though, it's the public that demands more knowledge about these celebrities. These people just see the opportunity that a picture or signature bring. 

It's the chicken and egg complex. 

Moments later, I'm approached. 

I know you, said the guy. 

Dudes, I'm fucking CATNIP right now for men. Never ever ever in my life have more men approached me. I literally don't look any different ... nothing ... but never, and I mean NEVER.IN.MY.LIFE. have I ever been stopped on the street so much. 

I stare back at him blankly. 

I follow you on twitter, said the guy. 

You only want to play with my twitter I think, defensively. 

He then pulls out his phone. 

No, I legit follow you, he sharply replies back. 

Pull up my account on twitter, I say. Let me see if it says "Follow You." 

He does so, and next to my name there is a blank space.

Aw, sad panda, I say sarcastically. 

It's Facebook then, he says enthusiastically. 

He pulls up his account and I stare down at his name. 

Holy shit, I say out loud. You just messaged me last time I was at a conference. I can't remember which one ... but you wanted to kick it. 

I KNOW, he said. 

Are you trying to get in? 

Yeah, I'm just waiting for my friend to figure out a way. 

He then takes off his red wristband. 

This party is lame, but go have fun, he says putting it on my wrist. 

Thank you, I said. I won't forget this. 

Here, let me give you my number he says taking my phone. 

He then puts in his name and number. 

My lover? Cute, I think. 

I then walk back up to the door guy that refused me, showing him the wrist band. 

I smile saying, will this get me in now? 

He looks at me ... shocked. 

Go through the red carpet, he says pointing to my left. 

Thank you I say with a shimmy and a shake. 

I then walk over to the red carpet. 

Name please, said the woman. 

I show her my wrist band. 

Yes, but I need your name, she said. 

Jen Friel, I say confidently. 

<tangent> I can absolutely absolutely absolutely not tell a lie. I'm an extremely expressive person and while I'm VERY good at crashing things (The Grammys, SNL parties, Spiderman 2 Premiere) dropping a fake name leads me no where because my facial ticks will give me away in .25 seconds. </tangent> 

You're not on the list, said the woman scanning the sheet.

Oh, really, I say. Can you please check again?

The words barely escaped my mouth before a woman came up from behind me.

She's with me, she said as she forcibly grabbed my shoulders.

I smile walking like I know what's going on.

She looks at my bracelet. I gave her this - she said noting the color. 

Here, another guy said. Give her this one too, he says placing a silver one on me.

Enjoy yourself, said the woman. 

I laugh thinking, this is why I am SO conscious of karma. People don't believe me, but I've done this SAME THING to people before standing outside a party; I have given multiple wristbands out, said MULTIPLE times to people "they're with me." Not out of wanting anything from people, obvi, but just because I've BEEN in those shoes before and I have this carnal desire to always want to help people. 

I just cashed in a SERIOUS amount of karma tonight, I thought. 

I then walked inside and literally bumped into Britney Spears' manager Larry Rudolph. 

Sorry, I say touching his shoulder.

Smooth move, Friel. This is why you don't get invited places. 

I then walk over to the bar. 

Shit, it's only vodka I see staring down at the corporate sponsored bottles. 

<tangent> Vodka and me are not friends. I don't do jagermeister, tequila shots, or vodka drinks unless I am consuming copious amounts of food as well. They all go STRAIGHT to my head and I do NOT want a repeat of my last Vegas trip ever ever ever for as long as I live. </tangent> 

Last night, I did not eat dinner. 

This is not going to end well, I thought. 

I slowly sipped my first drink as I checked my twitter feed. 

The party was PAAACCKKKEEEEDDD at this point, btw. 

Pauly D was spinning and there were EASILY a couple hundred people all shoulder to shoulder. 

If he's not here now, he's missing out, says a guy approaching me. 

There's no guy, I say, I'm just on twitter. 

He smiles. 

Hi, I'm Jen. 

Hi, he says. 

Are you having fun? I ask. 

I am now. 

WHOOMP WHOOMP, I say staring back blankly. 

I won these tickets at an auction, he then admitted. I'm from San Diego and we got the tickets to this party, and a limo ride up here. 

Amazing, I say. 

What do you do in San Diego? 

I'm a lawyer. 

What kind of law? 

Personal injury, he admits. 

I start laughing asking, are you an ambulance chaser? 

He smiles but immediately gets defensive - I like to think I help people in their most intimate time of need. 

RIIIIIIGGGHHHHTTTTT, I say as I start to walk away. 

I like you, he says pulling me back. 

What do YOU do? 

I run a website. 

What kind of website, he asks fully checking me out. 

Not that kind I think. 

It's a site for nerds. 

Is that your only job? he presses 

Yep. Almost 3 years strong. 

I then look over to my left and spot a familiar hair cut. 

No ... NOOOOOOO I think. 

The haircut turns around. 

Shut. The. Front. Door. IT'S GREAT TABLE EIGHT, I say UNBELIEVABLY excited. 

Mr. Personal Injury looks at me. 

Great table, what? 

You need to understand that right now I am having a life moment, I explain. See, I play trivia every week with people from my website, and we have this MASSIVE rivalry with this one table. They were obviously the cool kids in school, and us being the nerds we get picked on by them a lot. 

THEY EVEN ACCUSED US OF CHEATING, I said.

The fact that I'm at this party right now means the nerds rule the world. This isn't for me, this is for nerdkind everywhere. 

<tangent> Obvi too, if tomorrow they decided to stop being assholes to us I would throw my arms around them and give 'em a big old hug. I FOR THE LIFE OF ME can't hold a grudge, nor do I even care to. </tangent> 

I have to do this, I say as I approach. 

Hi, I say with a smile to the haircut. 

She looks at me kind of shocked. 

We then exchanged pleasantries. Good to see you, I say walking away. 

Let's get another drink, said Mr. Personal Injury. 

I finish up my first drink as we walk up to the bar. 

I feel a tug on my shoulder. 

Hi, Jen! says the guy behind me. 

OOOOHHH shit, I say. (It was a twitter bud) 

We finally meet after all these years! 

I smile, as we chat for a second. 

Who are you, asked Mr. Personal Injury. 

I don't even know anymore, I say with a chuckle.

We then walk back a little more and I stared out at the crowd. 

No one at this party is having fun, I thought. Everyone is here because they want to be "seen" and everyone is just looking out at everyone else wondering who THEY are and how THEY got invited here.

Absolutely EVERYONE there was a name and every.single.one.of.them. had a MASSIVE rod up their ass.

I will die before I EVER let this become my scene. Eight years in LA, and it only gets more hollow the older that I get.  

I then get bumped from the back. 

Excuse me, says the man. 

I turn around and it's Alfonso Ribeiro. 

DUDE. CARLTON FUCKING BANKS!!! 

Now, THIS just got interesting. 

I turn back around in an attempt to keep my composure. 

Be cool, Friel and whatever you do ... do NOT ask him to do the Carlton. 

I then turn back around and he is SWARMED by women. 

Dude, Carlton gets pussy!!! No one talks about it, but firsthand visual .... women.flock.to.the.carlton. 

I laugh as I think, well done. 

I then continue to sip my drink and quickly realize I am drunk. 

FUCK FUCK FUCK. THIS is why I don't drink vodka. Not even two drinks, man. Albeit on an empty stomach but COME ON!!!!! 

The SECOND I am at a party and I realize I am drunk, I excuse myself. 

It's pretty funny actually. I have no filter, so I will sometimes literally tip toe cartoon style telling my friends to be quiet and to not tell anyone I am drunk. 

I then grabbed a cab and headed back to my apartment. 

It was SUPER early, btw. Like 11:45. 

I didn't care though, meeting Carlton was a life highlight and while everyone at the party wanted to believe they were super fancy pants I thought the entire thing was SUPER fucking lame. I was just as happy to have my story and go to sleep. 

I sat down on my bed as one of my roommate's pets came in my room to greet me. 

Then, everything starts shaking. 

What the fuck? I say out loud as my roommate walks in getting her pet. 

It's an earthquake, she says calmly. 

In 8 years I've only felt one other earthquake. They're super fast, but this one was SOLID. 

Being from Connecticut though my brain legit doesn't understand how to process when the earth is shaking. Yes, you can obvi physically feel it - but as it is happening you don't fully know how to process it so it doesn't register. 

Not knowing the magnitude of the quake I start texting my family to let them know I am okay. 

Nothing sobers you up quite like an earthquake, I thought as my head hit the pillow. 

ANNNNDDD there you have it. My first meeting of Carlton, my second earthquake, and a solid stare down of Great Table Eight. One small step for woman, one giant leap for nerdkind. 

Rock on, bitches! 

Next up, I'm headed to a big Machinima event tonight, followed by San Fran on Sunday!! SO.FREAKING.EXCITED!!!

#YAYLIFE

Many many many thank yous to Shawn. I do not forget favors. =) 

Comments

[Heather]

Dude, you have a crazy life. I would have totally just busted out the Carlton in front of his very eyes. He would have been so impressed. Missed life opportunity ;)