Exes and Ohs by Shallon Lester

Author:Shallon Lester [Lester, Shallon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-88512-8
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2011-06-07T04:00:00+00:00

Hoarders Without Borders

Working as a gossip writer for the New York Daily News was largely an exercise in masochism, but there were perks. Among them was the opportunity to make out with numerous celebrities—actors, musicians, athletes, you name it. But that wasn’t even the best of it. Boys come and go. Gift bags, however (if you play your cards right), can clog up your apartment forever.

One of my chief duties as a gossip hack was to cover the Manhattan charity gala circuit. I loved going to these events, mostly because I ascended two social levels (in my mind, at least) every time I said the word “gala.” Gaaaaaaala. You really had to put your nose in the air and draw it out.

Charity functions are a lot like weddings: dressy people at huge circular tables eating and drinking and competing over who is better friends with the hosts. Only, instead of toasts and dancing, the entertainment mostly consists of “inspirational” presentations about why that particular nonprofit needs your money. Additional acts usually include a speech by some drunken old executive in the crowd whose wife goaded him into donating an obscene amount of money—one geezer gave $1 million at the last Christopher Reeve foundation dinner I attended—and then, of course, there was always the silent auction.

Sure, silent auctions are intended to raise money, but if you’ve ever been to one you know that all they really do is underscore how out-of-touch rich people are with how much things are worth. Five thousand dollars for a private cooking lesson with Mario Batali? Seven hundred dollars for a pair of Crocs worn by Plaxico Burress? Seriously?

“Who the hell would pay a grand for a bike signed by the Real Housewives of New Jersey?” Klo would ask. Whenever possible I would take her as my plus-one, but seats were usually tight to the best events, so she got stuck tagging along to parties that were about as fun as, say, the United Hispanic Volleyball Association dinner or a right-wing Abort Abortion bonanza.

As we listened to whichever D-list MC (usually a retired soap star or former Menudo singer) was hosting ramble about the majesty of giving, Klo would inevitably turn to me and hiss: “There’d better be a good gift bag, Lester.”

Ah yes, the gift bag. The true reason anyone ever came to a benefit.

Bad gift bags are like boys with small penises—there’s no way to predict the unpleasant surprise ahead of time. I can’t tell you how many sacks I’ve greedily snapped up, only to find a heap of crap inside: combs, bird food, mints (oh, so many mints!), moisty-naps, XXL T-shirts advertising the services of Dr. Ira Weisenthal, DDS—the list goes on and on.

But when a swag bag is good, it’s like Christmas morning. Flatirons! Movie passes! Godiva chocolate! During the Super Bowl one year I snagged a $500 gift certificate to a spa in Santa Barbara. At the Denise Rich Angel Ball, everyone got Diptyque candles and Tempur-Pedic pillows. Hair products are

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