After-hours parties always spell trouble, right? Yes, thank gawd! I mean, anything that happens after the clubs close at some über-mansion in the Hollywood Hills after two ayem is bound to be bad news, right? (Just ask Lindsay Lohan where that type of late-night stuff lands you, if you don't believe moi.)
Such delish naughtiness is what was goin' down at the owner of a Hollywood hot spot's posh pad recently. After the booty-shakin' boîte announced last call, said proprietor moved the celeb-hoppin' pah-tay to his private home. How very accommodating! And all the usual trash-rag suspects were there, as well as some more surprising ones. But, no guest, I assure you, was as shocking as the Sniffer honey, a rail-thin tart, if there ever was one. This skinny gal, who has a rather wholesome rep, has been rumored to like hitting the slopes before, ya know. But, nothing concrete has been sighted on her—until now. Some peeps say hitting the powder runs is precisely why this gal got so damn skeletal all of the sudden. But, I digress, per usual.
Anyhow, Ms. Sniff was in dire need of a hit and told the whole room as much. “Do you have our stuff?” Sniffer Stella yelled to her partner in partying crime, who, evidently, had the supply. “I need a bump!” Thank heavens S.B.'s trusty amiga had the goods! “It's right here in my purse!,” the partygoer yelled back, as the girls not so discreetly rendezvoused to the bathroom, almost as if they were in the mansion all by themselves (which was hardly the case).
Meanwhile, at the same nose-candy coral, a very pretty boy we'll call Wendell Waxer was being rather obvious himself. The good-lookin' guy, whose sexuality is often questioned, was loudly placing a bet with a friend over who could score the hottest girl in the house. The winner, it was decided between the cave-dude types, got not only bragging rights, but the rails of coke lined up on the coffee table for the taking. W2 won, of course, and pulled a hottie right fast. But, W.W., hon, you'd better be careful...the booger sugar, to be friggin' sure, ages that fine face of yours faster than your flack gets fake union items in the gossips. It ain't:My guess:
I have a feeling Sniffer Stella is Hilary Duff. Have you seen the bones on that 'wholesome' little being lately? I'm going to leave the guy guess up to Dino because he's better with the boys.