Crashing the In Style Oscar Party through the kitchen

You know I love to crash a party. I used to be a veritable expert on the subject in New York. Whether it was the shady photocopy an invitation on cardstock at kinkos ruse, or the enter the hotel lobby and check your coat before picking up a half finished drink and waltzing "back" into the party trick, or the follow a group of people you dont know past the doorbitch acting like you are in the conversation decoy, or the have some friend walk out with a ticket halfway through the night scam, it was always a good time. Partially because I am a big fan of finger food and partially because my flawed upbringing gave me a taste for defiance of authority. In a party dress. My all time fave party I ever crashed is a tie between the opening night of French and Saunders in London's West End where I literally was walking out of the theater with Hal down this narrow back staircase that the audience had to negotiate out to the street, wherupon I turned to Hal and went "I wonder where this door leads" walked through it with him and suddenly was in the VIP area of the opening night gala. I grabbed the half consumed cocktail made for a group of folks I didnt know and began laughing at their jokes while Hal quickly crossed the room and found a friend of a friend to legitimize us there. Celeb sightings that night included baby Spice, Members of the Young Ones, and of course my goddess Jennifer Saunders. Plus they had freaky hors doeuvres like suhi pizza and champagne shooters it was awesome. Twenty minutes later, the friends who had turned around to find us "gone" were ushered in by us holding friends of friends' passes and we achieved the coveted multi person party crash which is wayyyy harder to do than a single disappearing into a crowd. I hate party crashing in a group. There is always some lack of suave: you can't slip past security with one of your friends saying "WHAT IF WE GET CAUGHT" in a stage whisper, or with some lame-o pausing before picking up the cocktails to ask where the bar is and exposing the whole group as "not really already at the party". The pseudo crash is easier, when you have an insider with staff access. Like when Caroline waltzed us into wedrock (see below) or when David Ogden Stiers put my entire class at juilliard on a swanky fundraising dinner list at lincoln center. I am a big fan of mixing fabulousness with ghetto fabulousness. Here is a photo of me and Lisa with our inside man at the swanky Palladium oscar party (5000 bucks a plate people). Notice we are eating a divine filet mignon and truffles amongst the empty glasses and boxes of wine in the cater waiter area. This is also the entrance thru which we snuck in!! Lisa is resplendent in red gown. I wore a polka dotty gown (why didnt you stop me?? WHY??) to this event attended also by chaka khan, wyclef, several members of Dancing With the Stars, and other celebs who that night didnt turn me on enough for me to snap photos. Except the ballroom dance stars here that knew Lisa from the Stars show. Look at Lisa's boobs. They are 75 percent real.

party Crash Tip #2: If you find someone you know even a little at the party, glom on to them for a long while. It totally legitimizes you. An alternate version is to begin talking to people like you are their best friend. They will like you and protect you from security if necessary.

After this party which was quite fun with us running back and forth between the ballroom and the back room bottles, we went to the Ted Fields Party in beverly hills invited by Lisa's pal who wrote jokes for Jon Stewart and all his Daily Show cronies. In a word, this party sucked balls. Sushi and an open bar do not justify a room full of loud posers wearing seven jeans and versace shirts looking over each other's sholders desperately for a star or someone that might help them meet a casting director. Oh god is was fucked. Persian guys hitting on coked out blondes who clearly work in retail or as fitness consultants or jewellery designers. Unfortunately we left just as mickey rourke and pam anderson arrived which would have been slightly more amusing than having poser central looking through each other all around me. We didn't even get into the People mag party (ok there was 9 of us but 2 of those were the execs at the Daily Show fer chrissakes--but no jon stewart=no entree) so the night ended with me screaming out the window of lisa's SUV "Do you know who we are??? Do you know who she is ?? She is Lindsay Lohan's nanny! She did Shall we Dance and got the best reviews!!" as we tore off into the night. It was what a would call and okkaaaayyyyy night, but the best part of all would have to have been when I realized that hanging with my friend Julian picking food off of party trays in a back room with cater waiters was the best kind of fun there was.