Last week Josh and I hauled our cookies over to the Ziegfeld Theater for the premiere of the new movie Confessions of a Shopaholic. It was kind of a crazy experience because as we sat in our seats we started looking around and random celebs took seats around us.
"Oh, look at that lady wearing a tiara! Does she think it's, like, Halloween or something?"
"Um, I think that's Miss America." (It was.)
Oh. Never mind.
Then it was John Goodman and Marc Indelicato (from Ugly Betty) taking seats nearby. Leslie Bibb came in and wore a shimmery golden shift and we had simultaneous longings for the days of WB's Popular.
I headed to the bathroom and almost tripped over Sacha Baron Cohen, Mr. Borat himself. Isla Fisher, the film's star and Sacha's girlfriend and baby mama ('sup, Olive), snuck in later. Kinda surreal, altogether. Back in our Josh & Josh Minneapolis days it was a big deal when the local meteorologist showed up at a movie ("Oh my god, is that KARE 11's Ken Barlow? Text your mom!"), so this was kind of in another league altogether.
After the movie--a bit of light Friday night entertainment--we headed to the Plaza Hotel for the after party.
And that's where our true colors really showed.
See, they had all of this amazing food. Acres of it, actually. And neither of us had eaten dinner. And while the free popcorn and drinks at the movie were fun and all, we were ready to put on our eatin' dresses and have at it.
The only problem? The well-heeled, whip-thin model types around us weren't biting. The miles of food--fresh fruit, cheeses, chocolates, sandwiches cut in thirds, soups, and other lovely nibblies--were completely unattended. Going to waste, you might say.
Until we arrived.
We marched right up to the tables, took a hold of the Plaza crested china, and dove in like professionals.
"How many do you think we can take before they'll get suspicious?" Josh K. said through a tightly-wound smile as we approached the toasted ham-and-cheese sandwiches.
"Seven," I said. "Maybe eight."
He giggled. I grabbed. We ran. Then to the fruit. Then the champagne.
While in line for our champagne, chewing away like cows working their cud, this cute forty-ish couple, holding hands and obviously gaggingly in love, shared a lingering kiss as they slipped right in front of us in line. I was about to wipe a greasy hand on my pants and tap the guy on his shoulder and ask him just what the @#$% he thought he was doing (I have been in New York for three years and change now, you know?), until I noticed it was Kevin Bacon. And Kyra Sedgwick.
Oh. Okay.
We decided they could cut.
We both resisted doing choreography from Footloose as we stood patiently behind them. (Mostly resisted.)
After Kevin got his drink he turned around to me said, "Hey buddy, I think I cut in line back there." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Sorry about that."
"No worries," I said. He smiled and nodded and followed Kyra back into the crowd.
And then, Moet & Chandon finally in hand, we spotted Michael Cunningham, one of my favorite authors of all time (The Hours and A Home At the End of the World, anyone?) in the crowd. I may have made a little puddle on the floor. And then as we turned around we were--oh, hello!--face to face with Sascha and Isla. Um. What to say, what to say? Wait, say nothing. What to do? Um. Um. Wait, act cool. Talk casually amongst your Josh selves.
And do what you do best. Eat.
Mmmm. Toasted ham-and-cheese.
And then they were gone.
We kept crossing paths with this really hot guy all night and there may or may not have been some making of eyes going on. (That's all off the record, okay?) But we didn't know until later who he was: Apparently he was Scott Evans (at right), brother of abdominally-blessed Fantastic Four actor Chris Evans. That explains the drool-worthy factor, I guess.
We cleared one plate. Another. A third. We downed some chocolates. We briefly grooved near the DJ when a select grouping of embarrasingly good remixes came on. And then, as Cinderella hour neared, Josh K. took one last look over his shoulder at Scott Evans and then Josh and I were back on the streets of New York, heading down Fifth Avenue, on our way home.
Josh K. & Josh H. at the "Confessions of a Shopaholic" premiere party

Extra, Extra!: 'Rent' on DVD, 'New in Town', Rihanna, and Adele
'Rent: Live on Broadway' DVD release party, February 2, 2009.
So Rent may have closed on Broadway, but it's now touring (with Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal headlining--good lord, they've been doing this show on and off for fifteen years!) and there's also a DVD of Rent's final performance on Broadway hitting the shelves. My friend Matt and I hit up the release party at the Life Cafe (awww, the Life Cafe! Doesn't it make you want to say "after Maureen's show"?) and snapped a few pictures. I'm actually curious to see the DVD and see how the live Broadway show translates in DVDness.
In other news, definitely saw New In Town, mostly out of curiosity to see Minnesota portrayed in the film. (Shout out to New Ulm, MN!) And, um, unsurprisingly, it wasn't much to write home about. First of all, they filmed in Ontario, not Minnesota, and any Minnesotan watching will know that after seeing the first exterior shot. At one point they show a skyline that's supposed to resemble Minneapolis when a character is taken to 'the Big City' for a makeover, and that shit didn't even half-resemble Minneapolis. (Y'hear that, Hollywood? We've got your number.)
And, most importantly, one Tyrannosaurus-sized bone to pick: Who the hell teaches actors how to do Minnesotan accents? Cuz the vocal coaches on New In Town should've been summarily fired and sent home in shame. Not a single actor really got it right. They should call some of our extended family and take notes. (I say that with love, don'tcha know.)
And Renee? Oh Renee. Yes, she rocks that sourpuss face in most films and at most promotional events, but our little Ms. Zellweger looked like she'd sucked several lemons dry before filming each scene. And the whoever did the lighting hates her more than Catherine Zeta Jones, because Renee was lit like dog poo in every single frame of the film. Tragic. Overall, our rating? Poop sandwich. Served cold. Watch the trailer instead; it's better than the actual film.
Finally, in better news, we turn to music. Rihanna continues to milk every last penny out of Good Girl Gone Bad as she released her remix album of the same name this week. The good news, though, is that there are some great cardio tracks on there, including "Breaking Dishes" and "Take a Bow" and another "Umbrella" remix. (Yep, that song is still rolling around.)
Kylie Minogue's LA Riots remix of her song "Boombox" is also a great cardio playlist selection. Worth checking out.
But if we want to talk about excellence in music, one has to turn to now-Grammy-winning Adele's "iTunes Live from Soho" just-released six-song album. Every track is great, but "Crazy for You" stands out, as does my all-time Adele favorite, "Hometown Glory." We love her unconditionally and can't wait for another album. Two giant thumbs up for Adele.