Happy Birfday To Moi

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my partying with Jessica Biel. Whatever that it's my birthday, no, the highlight of the last five years of my life was without a doubt the night that I rode a bull with La Biel. Anyone who knows me personally has already heard this story ad nauseum, so you guys can just stop reading right now. For the rest of you, enjoy:



Like many a deranged Angeleno, I was under the impression that spending my twenty-first birthday at the giant clusterfuck that is the Saddleranch Chop House was a good idea. It was all pretty dismal considering that it was a Sunday and NO ONE was out. I mean, there's always someone out on the Sunset Strip, but comparatively speaking, it was a ghost town. No worries though, because I had a great group of friends with me who could and still do turn any bar they enter into a baccanale. Oh, and I should mention that I was not yet out, as in I was heavily closeted, as in two of my best friends were gay, as in I was that really open minded straight guy who had hour-long convos with his buddies.

I know... and yes, please, spare me.

Well, the evening was fun and involved my friends having me pose for pictures with sorority girls who were got all kissey face with me for the cameras, which I'm sure everyone thought was tewtally hilarious (I won't be posting those by the way). But the real festivities started when an already ineabriated Jessica Biel showed up posse in tow. I should mention that Jess and I not only share the same birthday but also the same birth-year. I like to think of us as kindred spirits of a sort and our meeting at Saddleranch was only further evidence of this fact.

Jessica & co. wasted no time in making complete and total asses of themselves. Wilmer Valderama was there and he's just sort of an ass in and of himself, but my favorite moment of the night (even better than Biel repeatedly falling off an already slowed down mechanical bull) was when Beverly Mitchell of Seventh Heaven fame came barreling out of the ladies room and hit my former roommate Corinne with her purse. Corinne's reaction, That BITCH Beverly Mitchell just hit me with her Gucci bag, became an instant classic and to this day remains one of my favorites.

I could explain how drunk La Biel was and how hammered I ended up getting off of Long Islands, but I think I'll just let the pictures speak for me:







I don't know what could possibly top that birthday, but there was the year (my 23rd?) I celebrated by drunkenly fawning over PJ Harvey at the Cat and Fiddle. She was very polite and obviously wasn't too offended by my gin breath since she let me talk to her for a good two minutes or so. Lesson learned? If you're drinking with a celebrity, make sure you're the more sober of the two; it makes for better stories and doesn't forever get you banned from PJ Harvey's clique.