Anecdote #60: Happy Fat Tuesday! I have no idea how I managed an invite to one of the most debaucherous Birthday parties ever thrown. Perhaps it was on account of my brief friendship with Oz and Elvis Perkins, sons of Anthony, but there I sat, like a fly on a giant martini glass grinning wildly all night as I observed some pretty wacky shit. Unfortunately, what happened on our way out trumped any other memories from that evening. I grabbed my size 8 chocolate stiletto and slipped it into my purse for a tasty souvenir and stood up to leave. By this point the party had erupted into some sort of Bacchanalian flesh fest complete with transgender midgets and fetish freakdom. We tried to muscle our way through the ravenous crowd but found ourselves barricaded by a cluster-fuck of crazed. I was nervous, to be honest, and started to feel very claustrophobic, so as I stood there waiting for the "light to change" I looked to my left and watched Robin Leach get a hndjb . A sight, I will, dismally, never forget.