Driving in a Hamptons-style overloaded car, we were cruising between Fourth of July parties when the entire backseat shrilly screamed “Breaaak!”

No, a deer or rodent hadn’t scurried under our tires.

No, a tree wasn’t tumbling onto our windshield.

Our GPS had navigated us though a South Hamptons back road that was lined with cars as far as the inebriated eye could see. Music blared at a level so high we could hear it within our own music-blaring car. Girls dressed to the nines hiked from their far parked vehicles to the mansion that was evidently hosting a raging event.

In a usually smooth bout of communication, we alerted our other three cars of friends that we’d be ‘breaking for this party.’ In a miraculous moment that only Fourth of July intoxication could provide, everyone somehow agreed and we all parked, staggering out of automobiles in the pursuit of party.

“Hey, is this Jamie’s party?” our ringleader asked a clearly bedraggled set of exiting participants. This is a name he pulled out of his ass, but it got us the desired response.

“No it’s Rob Cook’s,” they responded wearily (and helpfully.)

DING! DING! DING! DING! DING!

We now possessed the host’s name. Our friends worried as we approached the noisy house: What would we find on the other side? How would we fit in?

“Maybe it’s a wedding. We can’t crash a wedding.”

“Maybe it’s a charity event. We’ll be like the only ones not in tuxes.”

Wrong and Wrong. Continue here

Thursday. It came so fast I don’t think anyone was truly ready for it. Even the most professional organizers don’t have much experience dealing with 3-day weekend scenarios in which Friday’s the day off. So after countless emails and what felt like hundreds of debates via MSN, someone in my Hamptons crew made the executive decision that we’d all leave for Long Island post-clubbing at 2:30 AM to avoid traffic. Making this plan possible were two sober drivers and a car service. The most amusing part of our time spent at Kiss & Fly (which wasn’t promoting any 4^th of July party but was just its normal, crowded, cone-filled self) remained that every time the word “Hamptons” came up you’d hear a resounding chorus of, “Yep! We’re leaving right after this!”

So apparently our ingenious idea of partying in the city and driving to Long Island post-club in the middle of the night was something other East-bound fun-seekers had thought of as well. In fact, the more people I spoke to, the more it became apparent that all of Kiss & Fly was heading to the Hamptons as soon as the party winded down. Instead of cruising down a desolate LIE, I realized we could very well be entering some sort of packed, party highway.

So much for avoiding the crowds.

After Kiss & Fly, it took awhile to get everyone regrouped in our ringleader’s SoHo apartment. He tried to sober people up with homemade pressed Paninis, a sandwich that’s easily up for grabs for the title of “best Panini of my life” since it was crisp, meaty and oozing with Dijon. When finally car-bound, we wrestled over who got to utilize the one pillow available in the backseat. Someone upfront with a potent chip craving instructed the driver to stop at a gas station, where they proceeded to buy one of every kind of potato chip known to man. Cape Cod – Doritos Nacho Flavor – Lays BBQ – Doritos Cooler Ranch and Cheetos were consequently passed around until everyone fell asleep sitting up, inhaling crumbs. When I startled from slumber, I realized it was because our car wheels were crunching gravel instead of gliding over pavement i.e. we’d arrived at our house’s driveway in the shortest Long Island travel experience of my life. If only I could be unconscious and high on snack food’s artificial flavorings for all such journeys… Article Continues Here

As someone who was extremely well-behaved this weekend, sleeping Friday, attending a simple house party Saturday, avoiding Cipriani’s Sunday, I have little douchebaggery to report from this weekend. That is, until I recently engaged in a conversation with my Argentine friend about midgets (I really don’t have a midget fetish, even though they live in my brain with power tools when I’m hung over and I talk about them constantly). Naturally, the absurdity of oompa-lumpa-like creatures brought to mind an equally absurd phenomenon – Pink Elephant in the Hamptons.

“Speaking of midgets,” the Argentine said, “Did you know that at Pink in the Hamptons people get so shit-faced that there’s actually a colony of little dudes whose livelihood it is to get these people home.”

Me: “No way! How?”

“They’re these little guys on tricycles, except the bike has four wheels. Whatever that’s called. They throw their bike into your trunk and drive you home…”

Me: “And then they bike back to Pink to transport the next intoxicated loser?”

“Yep. No one wants a DIU.”

Me: “The midgets must be making a killing!”

“It’s like sixty dollars flat rate for a certain distance and then an additional charge per mile.”

How the Argentine knew such specifics made me think that he in fact once participated in this outrageous nightlife transportation scheme. But I decided to forgo him the humiliation and not ask. I’m not sure why, but the image of midgets (although I’m sure these workers are actually full-size human beings) on tricycles escorting slurring hedge fund owners home from a night of Ecstasy-ed out fun had me giggling hysterically for days. And since I have no going out stories of my own to share at the moment, I give you this.

On separate note, I send a message to my fellow bloggers. I realize we all write because of our deep rooted artistic integrity and we revel in freedom of the spoken word and condemn advertising (thanks to TiVo we actually don’t have to condemn it, we can just skip over it) and we loathe pop-ups blah, blah blah. But crossing over to the dark side for a moment I thought I’d FYI you guys in on a site an anonymous friend of mine keyed me into. payperpost actually caught my attention because it’s basically a service that just lists opportunities to bloggers of stuff to write about if they so desire and make cha-ching cash. You can also make $7.50 for just reviewing other peoples posts, something I feel most of us do anyway. And as an ex-script reader, critical writer, and avid opinionate, anytime I’m rewarded with something other than resentment for my opinion is a winning situation for me. So I’ve given it a try. My thoughts so far? Even if the listings I currently qualify to write about don’t include my favorite topics which I’d be willing to stealthily sponsor (those being booze, clubs, make-up, thongs, stilettos and clothes) I’ve found the site pretty interesting because it has some good literature, links, and explains a blog’s Google and Alexa ratings, a concept of which I was wholly ignorant of before. In an era where we all have two myspace, a facebook, a WAYN, a ConnectU and if you’re a real loser – a Small World account, who can resist not signing up for another potential networking tool that involves the good green stuff instead of bad spam emails?

So check it out if you so desire, and they work on a referral program, so be sure to enter through this pretty purple link:

I think anyone who reads my blog is fully aware of the fact that I’m essentially a misguided gold-digger (I blame my Barbie-doll mother) so I have no intention of sugarcoating my monkey making schemes for y’all. I leave for Europe tomorrow and am about to pay for everything in the Euro for the next month – feel for me! Besides, none of us write blogs for money … but a book deal would sure be nice, right?

Some of you may already be aSmallWorld members, others may not know what the hell I’m writing about. In my words, aSmallWorld is an online community like any other only that it’s by “invitation only.” At one point, it was so small and elitist that only European royalty and their stunning American equivalents like Paris Hilton were members. I’m assuming aSmallWorld was set up so that these glamazons could arrange to use one another’s private jets and castles in Lake Como online while the creator of the site reaped profits from advertisers like Cartier and Verve Clicquot. In the site’s words:

aSmallWorld is an online community that is not open to the public. It is designed for those who already have strong connections with one another. It allows you to interact more effectively with like-minded individuals who share similar interests, schedules, and friends. The aSmallWorld Yellow Pages is becoming the ultimate reference guide for what is best in the world and most relevant to you. It is generated by members who are local experts who rate and rank restaurants, hotels, night-clubs, etc. in 60 major cities and resorts. The aSmallWorld Forum is a place where trusted friends can exchange secret tips and information, as well as goods and services from vacation homes to collaborations.

Well, since the site’s creation the number of membership has obviously grown and the “quality” of people has obviously declined (Exhibit A: Yours truly is aSmallWorld member). I first learned about aSW in 2004 while temporarily living in London. I had friends who were members and they’d occasionally drop abbreviations I could not understand (the aSW online lingo) and raved about the exclusive and intimate SmallWorld parties that were usually held in places like San Tropez and Dubai. People also marveled about the effective housing exchange, and one of my friends even managed to negotiate a free weekend at some dude’s penthouse in Buenos Aires just because they were aSW chums. Obviously I was green with envy. I mean, we all want what we can’t have, right? Even if it’s just a bunch of posers on the internet. And I, for the life of me, could not get invited to aSW.

What kept the network exclusive (although that exclusivity can be debated now) is that only a few select members had the power to invite new people. So while I might be pub-crawling every weekend with ten aSW members, if none of them were high enough up on the totem pole to posses invite power, they had no way to include me in their special club. I thought I found my key to entry through a friend of a friend who founded a highly successful internet start-up and was tight with the aSW investors. He had unlimited invite power and after hanging out together in London and NY a few times, he promised to invite me. I’m still waiting on that promise to come through.

Next I hoped to gain entry when a wonderful Brito-Italian friend of mine LT was promoted to have invitation rights. This was a trusted friend and confident who’d pull through on such a promise, yet alas since he IS a dear friend (and therefore usually wildly inappropriate) he was soon suspended from aSW for trying to repeatedly connect with Paris Hilton.

I returned to the States and promptly forgot about this silly site until around New Years 2007. LT was visiting New York and back in aSW’s good graces. They had sent him three invites to disperse to us commoners who must resort to networking on places like Facebook and MySpace. While enjoying beers at my apartment, LT mentioned that he thought he had one invitation left. I seized the moment and quickly ushered him to my computer. I forced him into a chair and made him log on and invite me that very minute. Thus the entertaining kingdom of aSW was unlocked for me. I mean, where else can you find thread listings such as this?

We are in Marbella. We need a glamorous-looking infinity pool, and a boat to shoot on, sometime over the next few days.

Does someone have a villa in the Hamptons for 1 or 2 nights to rent?

I am considering staying at the Puerta America but cannot decide which floor to stay on, any advice?

Does anyone know where to get a good facial and/or a manicure in Singapore?

Or job postings like this?

Midwife required for royal family! Experienced midwife to look after a newly born in a royal household.

French/Spanish speaking chef for part time job in family

CHAUFFEUR & HOUSEMAN/BUTLER - Executive Associate (Salary posted at 75,000 a year)

Private boat is looking for a stewardess for 6 months (april to september). Girl must be fluent English and motivated. Experience is not necessary. Boat will go in Corsica, Baleares and Sardinia.

Owner of a sailing ship, 42 feet (Dehler 41 cr), located in Lavagna (Genova,) is looking for a sailorman (25/40 years old) to be on board for two months in the Tirrenian Sea from the end of June to the end of August 2007. Must be Italian or fluent in Italian. Boat will go to Sardinia, Corsica and Cost’Azzur

Or, if you’re really looking for quality entertainment, check out the aSW Watch Enthusiasts Forum! I shit you not, this exists.

I’m looking to buy a simple timepiece crafted by Breguet, Patek Philippe or Blancpain. The question to you is: which craftsmanship is more exclusive, better valued by experts, keeps better residual value and have better feel of ownership? I think this is a tough one!

What is your opinion on the Bvlgari, Diagono, 44mm, Chronograph with white/black face?

Wow, I don’t know! My head is still spinning from the fact that there are watches other than Swatch and Rolex. Do people really buy watches as investments? I tend to smack mine into bar tops and drunkenly dive into swimming pools with them on a semi-regular basis. That’s why my Rolex is from CHINA.

More aSW hilarity at a later date….

Like most people in New York I rely on cabs to transport me home after a long night out or take me to the “end of the earth” extreme east and west sides of the city where subways don’t go. Here are my questions for the city’s fascinating drivers who get us where we need to be.

1. Talk to me about your qualifications. Do you actually have a driver’s license like mine or a special “cab driver’s license” that qualifies you to NASCAR-level speed and roll tight corners?

2. What vehicle did you drive in your home country? A truck? A steam shovel? A cart pulled by oxen? How did this prepare you for life as a nyc cabbie?

3. Who are you racing? I’ve had my face thrown up against the cab’s plastic dividers as we screech to a halt one too many times not to be curious. Is this how you guys entertain yourself during a long day’s work or is there an actual underground taxi-driver race going on with secret rules and a jackpot? Can I bet on our cab? What’s the grand prize?

4. On Saturday night when there are five sets of taxi-hopefuls crowding the corner of Broadway and 14th, how do you decide which ones to pull over to?

5. Who takes the pictures of you guys that are posted on the backseat? Is this actually you or does the city just have three generic photos of men in turbans that they’ve rotated throughout every taxi in the city?

6. How do you pronounce your name? Which series of unspeakable consonants is your first name? Which are your last? What do your friends call you?

7. Do you derive pleasure by whizzing past taxi-hopefuls with your availability light on when you’re really off-duty? This is torturous to us who are doing jumping jacks trying to get your attention.

8. Why do you think whenever I empty my purse in you cab to locate my favorite Mac lipstick that I am “leaving trash in your cab?” These are my expensive possessions and I always stuff them back in my purse.

9. PS do people really come with pursefulls of garbage which they dispose of in your taxi? That’s horrific. You think they’d just use one of the many public trash receptacles located throughout the city.

10. Do you have nightmares about the West Village? I do, and I just have to walk there. Is there some sort of West Village cabbie support group? Could I come?

11. How do you manage to be on your cell phones literally every moment that you’re driving? Who loves you so much? Or do you all just have second jobs as telemarketers in your own countries? (Like when I call Compaq for tech support and they transfer me to India, is that call really bounced back to you?) Teach me your multitasking skills.

12. What’s with the new interactive new york city maps/tv screens that have appeared in the back of your cabs for patrons to play with? Does this double as a navigation system that you actually use? Does the city of new york really feel they have to placate new yorkers with an interactive placemat so we don’t get bored while transported from point A to point B?

13. What’s you favorite shift? Daytime: Intolerable traffic, lots of nice business people giving you tips, getting receipts, charging it to their companies. Nighttime: Minimal traffic, drunken people giving you big tips since they’re trying to impress their dates/make up for the throwing up on your car matt. Wait. This time I answered my own question…