Coming into the bar next appeared to be the unlawful hybrid of Carson Kressley and George Washington. Oh, wait, it was just Austin Scarlett -- gown aficionado extraordinaire. With perfectly bobbed hair, flowing sashes, and caked-on makeup, the Project Runway loser floated into the bar like a spectral extra from A Christmas Story. He was such a sight that we almost overlooked America's Next Top Model sexpot Brittany -- a.k.a. Mini Janice Dickenson. Yes, the wannabe runway star was there in all her drunken glory which was further accentuated by her hair being bundled up atop her head like a less poofy version of Sideshow Bob.

Finally, rounding out the evening were our old friends, Jonathan and Victoria -- a.k.a. Team JV from The Amazing Race 6. Since we're all buddy-buddy now, they came by our table and chatted us up for a while before returning to their reality star friends. "Where's your camera?" asked Jonathan, knowing that this entire scene was ripe for TVgasm picking. "I left it at home," I had to answer sheepishly. Yes, J-Unit and I wander into the reality star garden of Eden, and we have no photographic evidence. To Jonathan's credit, he did try to take a picture of me and Jerry Manthey on his T-Mobile Sidekick (I say the full brand name in honor of the product placement on The Inferno II), but sadly, the light was too dim and his flash sucked.

Now why would Jonathan be taking a picture of me and Jerry? Well, in case you couldn't tell, much alcohol was had by all, and I simply decided to sit down next to Jerry (who, as you might remember, was in the adjacent booth). Actually, now that I think of it, I think there was someone I knew at her table that I was talking to and he or she left (oh yes, it was Burton's sidekick Louie who I had met previously when he was sucking face with S. Lo). Anyway, point was, I turned to Jerry (who looked quite annoyed -- not at me, just in general) and said "I totally backed when you left the All Star reunion show." My show of support warmed her slightly, and we had a labored conversation for the next five minutes. Turns out she was mad because just moments earlier, some guy had come up and groped her ass by the bar. Come on, people. You don't grope The Jerry. Anyway, our conversation meandered from Jeff Probst (according to her, he used to be nice but now he's sort of an asshole) to hip-hop (she's doesn't like it. She prefers Shelby Lynne). As you can tell, by the time you're making small talk about Shelby Lynne, the conversation has pretty much run its course; so I returned to my buddies (ie. moved two feet away) to fill them in on my scintillating encounter.

At this point, we all returned our attention to the increasingly drunken Nikki McKibbin, who seemed to be rubbing up against anything with texture. Spotdog valiantly waved her over, and sure enough, the American Idol star climbed over to our booth where she drunkenly boasted about the bruises on her inner thigh. Apparently, she had to scale a wall on the Battle of the Network Stars. Anyway, in case we didn't believe her, she then proceeded to pull back her skirt so we could see pretty much everything but her vagina -- and yes, there were some mighty big marks there. I can now say I've been 18 inches away from Nikki McKibbin's crotch bruises.

I took this moment to hit up the bathroom, and when I returned, none other than Michael Tarshi was sitting in my seat. Apparently, he actually recognized IndianJones from the Tarshi Bar post and came over to pretty much say "What the f*ck??" I'll let J-Unit elaborate on this story since he actually witnessed this.

So, here's the deal. When encountering celebrities in Hollywood, I am not quite, well, how to say it, as forward as B-side is. I play it off that I don't like to be so shameless, but maybe I'm just a huge pussy. However you describe it, this usually means that I don't approach anybody and am content to quietly sip my Maker's Mark on the side, taking the whole scene in (I did study anthropology after all). Therefore I was quite shocked when Michael Tarshi came over to the table, especially since I had said only a few minutes earlier, very mockingly, that "he would be quite surprised to know the people who posted pictures of a man vomiting his chocolate are not fifteen feet away from him." Well, it turns out that Tarshi recognized the handsome visage of IndianJones, asking first "What's your name?" and then exclaiming "I know you!"

At first Tarshi thought that IndianJones just happened to be there. Then I introduced myself as one of the proprietors of the website that trashed his waxy confection. I thought he would be pissed, but instead he said "You guys are great. I love how you rip on people." So, there you have it, Michael Tarshi not only read TVgasm (at least the parts about the Apprentice), but was a big fan. There was plenty of room in our booth, and so he made himself comfortable, and we got down to talking about business and Boston.

Anyway, by the time I arrived, Tarshi and the crew had become all chummy, and so began the great Tarshigasm that would later climax at Madeyoulaugh's apartment the next afternoon.

B-Side and Tarshi, courtesy of Spotdog's camera phone

Posted by B-side on June 20, 2005 5:10 PM