Last Thursday, we went to the National Portrait Gallery for the very first time. Not out of any deep underlying love of art or interest in American history, but for free booze and questionable celebrities. Yes, it's a Capital File party! Specifically, the Cap File First Anniversary Party, starring, for some reason, Iman!


We brought along our girl Friday, Liz Gorman, whose fantastic (as always) pictures are all available in this fancy new gallery thing right here.

After the jump, our half-remembered party report.

Capital File Party Gallery

The Gallery is, conveniently, in Chinatown, so we knew that if the party was lame, we could just go to Fuddrucker's. But when the rickety old elevator brought us to the third floor, the first thing we heard was James Brown's Mother Popcorn. Always a good sign! It was to be, alas, the only truly awesome music we heard all night from the lonely DJ sequestered on the mezzanine. The champagne helped a little, as it always does.

So we set to celebrity-spying. John Warner, who is 15 feet tall, was easy to spot.

That was about it, so we planted ourselves by the kitchen and ate all the appetizers as they went by. And drank more champagne.

It was around this time that we think we were spotted by these Late Night Shots posters:

RE: Wonkette is at it again
Posted By: unfortunate run in on 12-01-2006 10:21 am Report as shockingly offensive

i had a run in with those two last night just snapping away candid photos

RE: Wonkette is at it again
Posted By: suggestion on 12-01-2006 10:21 am Report as shockingly offensive

You should have pulled a Kenny Rodgers.







Sadly, "unfortunate run in" was too much of a pussy to actually punch us for laughing at the funny things they write on the internet and generally being a total homofag turbo. Next time, guys!

There were a whole bunch of diplomats there, so we didn't recognize any of the important people. Iman was off in a stairwell, blocked by security, being interviewed about saving children. She finally emerged for her photo op, standing before a hideous white board that said "Capital File" all over it, in the middle of a recently-renovated grand neo-classical hall that simply didn't have enough logos on it to make for a good background.

Shortly afterwards, a woman walked up to the assmbled cameras and sycophants, seemed confused that no one paid her attention, and then walked by us to find someone who knew that she was Fran Drescher.

"Hey Liz, Fran Drescher just walked by. I'll hold your drink."

"What?"

She looked pretty good, actually -- though not as good as Iman, who is 51 years old. We're not sure why Fran was there, but she was way more exciting than Pat Harrison, CEO of Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Or, you know, Terry McAuliffe. Oh, Washington.

We found the Examiner's Jeff Dufour, the columnist smart enough not to let camera crews into his bathroom, who let us know that we probably should've crashed the MSNBC party instead. Oh well.

Then, in what has to be the highlight of our party-crashing careers, we met a Former Katherine Harris Staffer. This former staffer was so excited to meet us, he literally put us in a bear hug.

We were then introduced to a super-friendly Former Tom DeLay Staffer, who, unfortunately, had left the office by the time Pretend Representative Shelley DrakulaCunt Gibbs took over. She reported that Ms. DrakulaCunt is, indeed, mean.

The lovely Juleanna Glover Weiss showed up at our side with the silent, deadly grace of a ninja, as she is wont to do. We didn't have much time to talk, as Kate Gibbs had grabbed the mic from the DJ and was introducing Iman, who talked about saving children, and Fran Drescher, who, as far as we could tell, didn't actually say coherent words so much as honk in a monotone for three minutes.

Once the children were saved, they opened up the back of the hall, where the food was, finally, spread out on tables and not doled out one-at-a-time by a couple surly waiters. The food was decent, though we had no idea what most of it was. Rice... balls? Fish on sticks?

After the list-holders gave up their sentry at the door, the night became a drunken mess. We watched two young journos desperately hit on Megyn Kendall and tried to pick a fight with an aging socialite who cut in front of us in the bar line. Jackie Kucinich lost her phone.

Bestest former columnist ever Karen Feld was there, which means she'll tell us she's never even heard of Capital File some time next week.

Figuring that was our cue, we left. Some went to some "VH1 party," others to the afterparty. We went home and drank bourbon. For the children.

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