Live from the pages of The Underminer: The Best Friend Who Casually Destroys Your Life, we invited everyone's favorite frenemy to chime in from time to time on various hot topics. That's right, The Underminer has a Gawker column now. But keep trying! You'll get one someday! You trouper!

Hieee! You look tired are you OK?

Oh... You were at the Costume Institute Ball last night! Your first time! That is so cute! Aw... I remember my first Costume Institute Ball... back when it was, you know, more of a major, pre-"Devil Wears" event.... What fun that was....

Did you have a feather moment? Did you meet Andre? Did he sweat on you?

Oh! You came to the after-dinner part of the event. That makes sense. No it's just I was getting confused for a second because I couldn't figure out why I didn't SEE you, and now I know why, because it gets like, clubby. I was long gone by then. I had to high-tail it to my friend's helipad because I had to go to this dumb white tie dinner thing in D.C., just this dumb and small dinner thing, whatever....

Uh! What a night though. Mary-Louise was avoiding Claire, Claire was avoiding Billy, and Billy was avoiding Mary-Louise; Kirsten arrived in a YSL gown dress I can only describe as magniloquent; and that little faghag Renee kept cockblocking everyone. I spent most of my time doing shots with Jenny and Sandra at the bar. Ugh.... For us veterans it's more work than fun. But it's good to see the old gang.

And then Tom Ford came up to me. Tom and I hugged for a long time, like... gladiators, if you will. We have a long friendship... going back to a more serious time in our lives when we were both fledgling models who, because we both speed-read, realized that for the sake of humanity, we could and should explore a more rigorous and complicated career path.

With my face buried in his abundant, faunal chest, his man-smell mingled with the peacock excrement and musty antiquities into a redolent cologne of desire. I related this to him and he immediately called his boutique's Fragrance Chamber so that they could recreate it for the public—you!

But all of the superficial gala gossip aside, I have to say am really worried about America. No, I mean, yeah of course I am worried about America. But I mean America—America. She is starting to look like a substitute host from the View and I so don't want that for her!

The biggest difference this year was the presence of bloggers and reporters who were covering the event were broadcasting it at lightning speed.

I was standing behind Cammy when she showed up in her BEYOND controversial fuschia gown with turquoise accessories!

A large bubble of electronic energy surrounded her as everyone's eyes, cameras, BlackBerries, cellphones, and cellphone cameras began photographing, reporting and commenting on this outfit at once. Soon everyone in the room and across the world began to form rival factions as to who was living for the color combination and who thought she looked like a waiting room.

While that occurred I slipped away to the corner of the Carroll and Milton Petrie European Sculpture Court, where I sort of naturally kind of ended up at this back table—with Liev and Naomi and Julianne and Cate and Nicky Ghesquierre—you know the more mellow peeps, just drinking seltzer and watching everyone go by....

Then we all did some blow for Isabella and called it a night.

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