After a Fashion
Your Style Avatar is mistaken for a well-paid gossip columnist, and Sunny wraps SX with a 'Nutrub'
SOUTH BUH-BYE If I'd written this yesterday, I'd be much clearer about all the details. But my phone was dead, I couldn't get an Internet signal, and I felt like I was stranded in Siberia. So I just tried to relax and enjoy the tail end of South by Southwest from the balcony of The Austin Chronicle suite at the Omni. (Note to Omni staff, especially Bill: You guys were wonderful. Always helpful, always pleasant, and Ancho's has good food.) But I do recall the Austin Music Awards well – a sea of highly accomplished musicians doing what they do best and being honored for it. Speaking of honors, Sister Margaret, running the awards for 28 years now, was honored with a plaque from Gov. Rick Perry. Yeah, I know, but regardless what we think of him, it was a huge honor for Margaret to receive it for all of her accomplishments. She and her very efficient second-in-command Scarlett Angel, along with Lieutenant Kristin Rathburn, put together a staggering presentation heavy on the legends. But damn it was cold. All these poor folks from all over the world presuming that it would be hot in Texas were terribly mistaken. Fortunately, I'd been watching the news and weather and knew full well that it would be near freezing, so I let the mink out of its cage for one last time before retiring it for the season ... on the very last day of the season. Forty-mile-per-hour winds ensured that the Austin Music Hall smoking deck stayed fairly empty, and I was bereft at not being able to hold court out there like in seasons past. But it all changes, doesn't it? All the time. Congratulations to Margaret for a job very well done. Stephen Rice, Mark Erwin, Micah King, and I took pedicabs from the Music Hall to Rain on 4th, where we killed some time before going to the Perez Hilton party. Hours before, the line wrapped all the way around the block with folks dying to get invitations; all through the evening, the reports said that the Perez party was a nightmare to get in. But I had my VIP pass and was on the guest list, so we decided to try to get in. I told my friends that if it was a hassle and we had to wait, then I didn't really care about going. So, down to the Whitley we went, saw the lines, and thought: "Oh no. I'm not at all ready for this clusterfuck." Being glamorous paid off well, and out of the blue, one of the security people took my arm, saying: "Right this way, sir. You may enter through here," and ushered us all in through the loading dock. But at the next checkpoint, it became clear that security had made a mistake: They thought I was Perez Hilton himself, and when they realized I wasn't, we were politely ushered back onto the sidewalk. We laughed all the way to the other entrance, where we swept in and hung out and watched Snoop Dogg perform. God, that reminds me of a joke I heard recently: "What's brown and rhymes with Snoop?" Answer? "Dr. Dre." Thank you. I'll be here all week.
SUNNY SEZ We hope you've enjoyed the special SXSW installments from my darling Sunny Haralson. Here is her big Conference wrap:
SUNNY SEZ All week I have been waiting with interest to see what kind of unfortunate hook-up my girlfriend, we will call her "Nutrub," would dazzle us with at this year's Slut by Southwest. My single friends refer to the Festival as the Musical Man Buffet; they entertain me with stories about romantic encounters with lead singers in hotel bathrooms and epic walks of shame. Nutrub is the most prodigious, her conquests ranging from visiting drummers and movie stars to a boy she will only refer to as "Blackfoot," because the bottoms of his feet were so dirty. "He was so well dressed – who knew?" she shook her head. As the hordes of anorexic, black clad, girlish men poured into our city, I urged her to choose strategically this year. "Get it on with someone who can get us into a good show," I told her. "That dentist you blew in the car outside of the French Legation last year did nothing for me." I thought maybe she would stop being so selfish and think of me for once. Not so. As the tide of our city's visitors recedes, taking another of Nutrub's coltish hook-ups with it, I can't honestly say I'm sad to see them go. As much as I love to watch all the craziness that is South By, I'll be glad to have Austin back. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out – but don't forget to come back again next year, either.
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