Thank God it's over. I'm officially sick now, after a long weekend of club hopping and idiotic celeb-spotting. I have no pride left, and all I want is OJ, chicken soup, a warm bed, and the remote control. I think I'll be fine in about a week. (Yes, as a matter of fact I can hear that tiny violin playing in the background, thanks.) This time I won't bother with the hourly breakdown, because last night I parked my little white-girl booty at The Church for the entire evening. Maybe I'm jaded after four days of acting like a groupie/dork/reporter all weekend, but seeing P. Diddy and LeBron James just doesn't do anything for me anymore. (For the record, also seen: Fabolous, Trevor Pryce and wife Sonya, Cisco Elsen, Dominique Wilkins, Cedric the Entertainer, Floyd Mayweather, Jr., Ruben Studdard.) Things that I've learned this weekend:
- Stars come in very different forms, and some are total assholes. Others are super nice, normal, cool people. This shouldn't be a breakthrough observation, but call me slow. I've only recently figured this out through experience.
- The NBA All Star markup at the bars was about 100 percent. $15 cocktails were the norm. I can't afford to live in NYC or LA, where this really is the norm.
- Denver does not have a nightlife scene after 3 a.m. You simply cannot make something out of nothing. Aside from a few private parties, us Denverites roll up our streets and call it good. I don't mind this, quite frankly. Staying out every night until 4 and 5 a.m. is not just hard on the body, it's dumb. Another late-coming realization.
- Basketball and hip hop are cool. I have a lot to learn about both, but my crash-course over the weekend was an eye (and ear) opener. The Slam Dunk contest? Really cool.
- The All Star Weekend mix tape, heard at every freakin' club all weekend long, includes the following songs: Snoop Dog, "Drop it Like it's Hot;" J-Kwon, "Everbody in the Club Gettin Tipsy;" and Usher, "Freak a Leak." If I never hear these songs again, I'll be a happy gal.