Truly, it's the most wonderful time of year! Pretty lights twinkle down Fifth Avenue, ice skaters hold hands, couples cuddle over cups of cocoa, and, under the influence of this holiday cheer (or a few flutes of sparkling wine), politicians and the press, like lions and lambs, make peace to make party. Last night, we sent walking tragedy AngelinaWilliams and Gakwer shutterstud Nikola Tamindzic up to the New York Palace Hotel to witness this sign of the Apocalypse, also known as the New York Press Club's Holiday Party. Singing clerics can be found after the jump.
As a devoted listener of WNYC, and having spent much of my time in New York living in a virtual closet, I was too totally jazzed when tapped to cover the Press Club's Holiday Jumpoff. All these bold-faced names leapt out from the press release: Spitzer, Menedez, Schumer, and (hell-fire yeah!) Chuck Motherfuckin' Scarborough. If heaven is a place on Earth, surely, at least for a few hours, it could be found at the Gilt Restaurant in Midtown. Armed with pad, paper, a few pre-party pills (don't judge - everyone needs a little "courage" once in a while), I was determined to TPC the hell outta that place and do right by Gawker's good name.
Thing is, when I got there, I had no idea which silver-haired dude was which, and apparently name tags are too "sales convention-y" for this crowd. I grabbed a glass of white from a passing tray and put on my thinking cap; sadly, the best idea I came up with was to stand in the back and text-harass the tardy Nikola with plaintive missives such as "for the love of all that you hold dear, please, sweet mother-loving Jesus, get here quick." Apparently, my furrowed brow was like a distress beacon and within mere moments, Press Club members flocked to my aid and began pointing out all the party-frocked politicians a girl could ask for. Click over to the Gallery and be amazed; sycophants can check out Nikola's complete photo orgy here.