When I first arrived to the party, as usual, I hit up the open bar for a few cocktails. They were especially needed this evening, because I was afraid that Bendel security was going to be called at any time to repossess my purse. If they took that away along with my tube of lip stick, "borrowed" iPhone, MetroCard, and three Vicodins that I took out of Lindsay Lohan's pocket on New Years Even, then I would have absolutely nothing. I nearly spit out my third second drink when I saw Serena van der Woodsen clutching Eric Daman to her breast.

"Oh, Eric. You're so funny! Stop it."

"No, I swear, your boobs are like magnets. I just can't tear my head away. Look, I'm trying, I'm trying and I'm still hear. Can. Not. Pull. Myself. Away."

"Eric, come on now. I know that my boyfriend isn't coming but there are pictures! This could be embarrassing."

"But they are just so beautiful and big and round. They are like lovely little cushions that I just want to lie on for all eternity. Don't make me leave your bosom."

"OK, Eric. Now you're just creepy. I came to your stupid book party, now leave my tits alone!"

"Fine, but the next dress I put you in is going to cover you up to the neck."

"But knowing you, the skirt will still be cut up to my coochie."

"Touche, darling."