Or, more like pheremones, I s’pose.
Like, I know it was the Hollywood Ball and everyone was all glammed up and gorj and etc., but people, puh-leeze!
Contain yourselves.
Amongst those who were spotted having, um, a ball:
- Spence and Jer, previously of Spence-and-Jer, locking lips in—ew—the coatroom. What’s up with that, guys? Not very graceful, Miss Kelly. Not to mention, what would TyTy think?
- Somebody (or should I say, “bodies,” plural) steaming up the windows of a stretch limo idling curbside outside of the ball. Bonus points to whomever can send me a positive ID.
- Trish Harlowe and Jordan Haddon getting grabby on the dance floor. Talk about dirty dancing. I thought we were going to have to hose those two off!
Of course, none of that amounts to anything when you consider our own miss Paige Andrews, ushered off in handcuffs at the eve’s end. That’s a whole different kind of “heat,” ya know?
Location: blog central
Hangover status: Code Yellow
Reading: my own e-notes from the social event of the season
