The answer? They were all found in New Jersey last night, at the Grand Opening of the W Hotel in Hoboken, New Jersey (yes, Hoboken, as in “Who is Methface Barbie dating these days?”) Hoboken is a surprisingly short train ride away from downtown Manhattan, so after the promise of free drinks and more free drinks, I couldn’t resist Jersey’s undeniable allure. So, dressed in my best black tunic and most expensive flats, my friend Stephen and I ventured INTO ANOTHER STATE (Ed. Note: As a native South Floridian, this concept has always excited me.) for an evening that promised, among other things, a live performance from Jamie Foxx.

Like most W Hotels, the W Hoboken was all class inside and out, even though it was less than 2 blocks away from a Men’s Warehouse (the store, not the underground Long Island gay discoteque.) And it became apparent after entering the beautiful lobby that my friend and I were way underdressed. Sure, black pants and a top wasn’t the worst way to go — but people were dressed to the hilt! Cocktail dresses, European cut suits, Louboutins, hairpieces — people in Jersey were not f**king around. This was frustrating to me, as I have a bevy of gowns lined up in my closet like some sort of transvetite superhero and nary a place to wear them — NARY a place.

My taffeta-inspired frustrations were quickly calmed, however, after sharing a glance with a drop-dead hot male model, clearly paid to stare at average looking women to make them feel wanted. And let me tell you: It worked.

Within minutes of our arrival, an out of work model in a waitress uniform shoved a drink into my hand, and the night had begun. As with most fancy opening parties, it seemed each area of the hotel was bathed in a warm purple glow, which either made everyone look super sexy or seasick (i.e. super super sexy.) Breathe in deep — smell that? That’s the smell of money, folks, and the air was thick with it’s enticing scent — a mixture of cologne, dry cleaning chemicals, the blood of the poor, and rapey hair gel. Oh, the rapeyness of it all — I’m willing to bet that 8 out of 10 gentleman opted for that American Psycho hair that seems to be all the rage amongst fake-rapey characters. And as proof that its popularity is wearing me down, it didn’t look all that unattractive last night.

Not impressed with all the rape hair? The model forced to sit in a spinning giant martini glass:

I would have done it for free, smile included. Nothing like speedskating spanx to get the fellas hot and bothered.

AHEAD: Jamie Foxx Raps, Pepa is Spotted, and I Meet the “Are You Ready to Rumble?” Guy!

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