The time I blew off party ettiquette

The UK has its own version of Law and Order now starring Doctor Who alum Freema Agyeman and everybody's favorite Battlestar pilot/lawyer/commander Jamie Bamber. It's a lot like our Law and Order, but with accents.

The problem I have is that each time I see Jamie Bamber I feel like an ass. I need to get this off my chest.

Be prepared for shameless name dropping.

I was invited to a screening of a Battlestar Galactica episode at the Cineramadome once thanks to a friend's awesome pull. I sat next to the lovely Jane Espenson and pelted her with questions about what it's like to write for James Marsters. Apparently just about every female actress who ever came on the show wanted to have a romantic storyline with Spike.

Anyway, Jane had my ticket to the after party and she stormed ahead after the screening where she was frequently stopped by fans. She was extremely gracious to everyone. In case you've ever wondered, she's every bit as awesome as you think she is.

At any rate, I'd talked to Mark Verheiden a couple of times at a few gatherings, and as I passed by him on my way to the party he waved me down and said hey. I smiled at him, then realized Jane was disappearing with my ticket to the party, so I kept moving even though he clearly expected me to stop and talk. I realized later what a giant asshole move that was. To Mark Verheiden. Who is just about the nicest guy ever, and also very talented and writing for shows and My Name is Bruce and about a million other things I wish I could do. And I didn't stop to talk to him because I am a moron. I doubt it has affected his life in any way, but I still think about it from time to time and slap myself in the head.

Anyway, I managed to get into the party where I stood right next to the ridiculously tall and stunning Lucy Lawless (See? Name dropping!) and my friend and I end up in a circle with Jamie Bamber. I held an intensely condensing drink in my hand, and right as my palm was completely wet my friend introduced me to him. "My hand is wet," I said. He said he didn't mind and made some kind of joke about wet drink hand.

So at this moment I could have wiped my hand on my pants and shook his hand, or just shook his hand with my wet one and gone about my business. Instead I shook his hand THEN wiped my hands on my pants. As if to say, ew, water I can handle, but Jamie Bamber hand is gross. Which is, of course, not what I meant because Jamie Bamber hand is sexy. But I could tell by his facial expression that I had just offended him beyond repair.

He and my friend got into a long conversation about Horatio Hornblower, which I've never seen, and I faded into the shadow with my now less wet hands. Jamie Bamber seemed annoyed that I was still standing there.

Had I been less of an ass that night, would my life be different? Probably not. But I'd feel less like a moron now every time I see Jamie Bamber on screen.

Party time

It was fancy Hollywood party night last night thanks to the powerful influence of an awesome dude who may or may not wish to be identified here. I got to schmooze in Beverly Hills in a fancy brand new cocktail dress.

I didn't give out a lot of business cards, but I did meet some cool people. At one point I saw Jeremy Piven squeeze right by me - he is shorter than I expected and has taken up having hair - and I raised my voice so that he could overhear me talking about my forever love for Zombie Strippers. I don't know if he heard me, but he did not stop to talk about Jenna Jameson shooting ping pong balls out of her vagina. His loss.

Robert Forster was in the elevator with us although at first though I recognized him as a celebrity I couldn't figure out who he was. He kept smiling at me. Nice man.

Aaron Sorkin came by to give a speech but he didn't hang out with the crowd because they would have crowded him to death. How ironic it would be if he were killed by conversations.

Servers were passing around shots of tequila which I did not drink, because ever since Halloween four years ago when shots went down and came back up again in four different puking sessions, I refrain from anything shot related. They also passed trays of tiny sirloin burgers but the one dude and his harem of like four scantily clad girls enveloped the tray like a plague of locusts. I never did get a burger, but I did get a tiny red velvet cupcake. I lost like two pounds from not eating that day. You know how when you think you're getting a lot of food you don't eat and inevitable there will be no food, but if you do eat inevitably there will be tons of food? Yeah. It was like that.

There was one girl dressed in bright red with a cowl neck exposing her boobs and barely any material covering her hoo hah. For some reason she was interested in this little dude with red shoes. His lucky night.

I got three compliments on my dress. I have finally arrived in society.

My shoes, though awesome, squeezed the hell out of my toes all night, so to get to the bar after the party I took them off and walked barefoot through Beverly Hills. I'm really glad the party wasn't in Koreatown.

When people get drunk they really get open about the dealings they've had around town. I highly recommend just grabbing a glass of water and listening.