The Art of Elysium Gala really is one of the parties I don’t get invited to each January that irks me to no end. I’m kind, I’m considered, I’m well-mannered, and I have a 20% coupon for Tuxedo rental at the Men’s Wearhouse. I’m good to go on this type of gala, filled with mega-hotties like Nina Dobrev, Ali Larter, Jamie Lynn Sigler, and many many more. So why no invite?
I can’t only assume discrimination. A prejudice built up against me because maybe once or twice or thrice in the past I’ve been known to peek down guests low cut tops or up under dresses for my scientific research on panties colors. And, yes, there is the occasional untoward proposition of the ladies up to 80 years of age in attendance, but I assure you, that is almost entirely the fault of how alcohol interacts with my brain after the first seven beverages. I deserve an invite to the ball. I feel so Cinderella right now, still waiting on the fairy godmother though. Enjoy.