i love this song, part two

Like I said, wrong.

Colin Cowie had been there.

And Christian Louboutin, Alexander McQueen, Salvatore Ferragamo and a bit of Baby Phat (for it's slutty-but-not-easy cred, which is the card every self-respecting Vegas girl plays) were there, too, on the soles and the tags of the dolls on prom court, who looked more Pussy Cat and less Barbie. And yes, I'm rolling my eyes as I write this.

There was a throng of tipsy, silicon-pumped mothers fluffing their spawn's Oscar Blandi extensions (flown in special for requisite show of conspicious consumption) with their Mason Pearson brushes and smoothing their progeny's custom-designed eyebrows by Anastasia (also flown in special--Anastasia, not the eyebrows, which--according to resident Perez Hilton wannabe Zacharay Sanders--caused an unmendable rift between (formally) BFFs Zenith Michaels and Natasha W.--yes, that W). It was during this moment that it struck me what upper echelon genes (stripper genes!) populate Vegas. Why I hadn't noticed before, I don't know. The equation is simple: dashing, successful hotel and casino magnate plus reformed Spearmint Rhino girl= Canyon Day School coed. Regardless of insinuations, no one can deny the exceedingly high hotornot.com scores of the offspring.

For some reason this display of Vegas flash and maternal mettling made me want to text Bliss, who was attending an affair at the Mandarin Oriental in New York, where there were real, live grown-ups and presumbably adult conversations in progress (something I have yet to experience at any affair in Sin City). Given my self-imposed "break," to text Bliss would be breaking my own rules I knew, but I was suddenly possessed by a horrible thought: at that very minute he was charming a crudite-nibbling, leggy brunette by deliberately trying not to charm her. I couldn't help but to imagine it--Bliss, with martini in hand, had stopped mid sip as said crudite-nibbling, leggy brunette (let's call her Nadia) helped herself to his olive, sucking it off the little black sword and then making an offhand comment about how she love, oh my god just love, a man in a tie it must have someting to do with the fact that she go to an all-girls school yes the kind wit ve short skirts and knee highs and oh my god vose St. Petersburg Academy boys across the river vas always too yummy for her to standing.

Now given that Bliss is Bliss, in response to Nadia he would most certainly say something conspicious about his current "taken" status. He would mention something brilliant, like how his girlfriend (me) named her first dog Olive and how he had never ever pictured himself as a small dog kind of guy until I, by the grace of God, sauntered into his life and how he will be lonely without me and Olive sleeping next to him tonight in the hotel. He would laugh, amused by his own brilliance in fending the vixen off without being impolite. He would be oblivious to the fact that in Manhattan "taken" loosely translates into "worth stealing." Yeah, that conjugation-challenged harlot was about to go down when Beatrice Longfellow tapped me on the shoulder.

"eLLe, you're in charge of the nameplates. They are listed alpabetically. Can you handle that? Once Mr. Bone wands them, they'll check in with you to see where they sit for dinner, k? You got that?"