After a full day here at Sundance, the Celebrity Action News Team has conclusively discovered that the last 2-3 days of the festival is not – I repeat, not – when all those celeb-packed swag parties we read about in UsWeekly are going down. To give you a better idea of the degree to which we’re becoming increasingly star-starved, I practically tackled Daniel Baldwin when he moseyed his way past me on Main Street, smoking a cigarette and carrying a baby (it appeared to be his, and he appeared to be sober).
So when we received an invitation to the Absolut Vodka Queer Lounge’s “Homos Away From Home” Party, at which the star-wattage would be provided by A-list luminaries such as Shar Jackson (K-Fed’s other, less crazy ex), that guy who sang that YouTube song about Shoes, and that bald dude who played Charlotte’s husband on Sex and the City, needless to say we were so psyched to finally get to do some Sundance schmoozing with real live celebrities.
As we piled into the taxi and I found myself uttering the words, “Take me to the Queer Lounge”, to the seemingly intolerant, clearly religious cab driver, I knew that we were in for a legendary Sundance experience. The ride to Main Street took approximately 47 seconds, and cost 15 dollars, presumably after he added on his “Queer Tax”.
Gay Chicken Head was all over the place, and so wily that we couldn’t even get a clear photo of him.
The scene inside was pretty much exactly what you’d imagine a “Homos Away From Home” party might look like. So after about an hour of idly wandering around and asking every non-white woman I encountered, “Are you Shar?”, I reluctantly abandoned my quest to find the elusive spirit of Celebrity, and instead resolved to let my hair down and join the writhing masses of vodka-fueled party monsters. I encountered many wonderful, colorful characters, and finally arrived at the realization that in a less-sexual sense of the phrase, I too am just a homo away from home.
After the jump, more reporting, pictures and video of me showing Shea Hess my sweet, sweet dance moves.
After a long night of drinking and dancing, I received a wonderful Swag Bag (just like in UsWeekly!) filled with indie rock girl band CD’s, candy, and best of all, a tiny vibrator that looks like a tube of lipstick (for the on-the-go lady horndog who just can’t wait until she gets home and therefore needs a more covert masturbatory option on her at all times).
I’ll never be leaving home without it.
Any disappointment I felt due to a lack of Shar-sightings (how does one go to the Sundance Film Festival and NOT get to meet Shar Jackson?) was quickly alleviated when our night ended in snow angels.
The coat check guy just went crazy and starting humping the coats indiscriminately.
I talked to the crazy lady dressed like Strawberry Shortcake (her description, not mine). She says she travels up and down the west coast bedazzling people’s teeth (as she’s doing with this guy). The little fake jewels on your chompers apparently stay there for six months. It should be against the law for this woman to be in the same place as alcohol.
Answer: somewhere between my third vodka-peach-pineapple-tini and dancing around like Donna Summer while waving dollar bills over my head.
