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"I hate Samantha Ronson, that fucking dyke!" Perez Hilton said on stage last night. He was hosting Paper magazine's third annual Nightlife Awards. Someone (either Paper's Mickey Boardman or Village Voice gossip Michael Musto) had asked him what was going on with all his lawsuits; Samantha is suing him for defamation. It's good to know that his level of wit, sophistication and creativity is sort of lacking all across the board, and not just in his writing or Microsoft Paint drawings. To his credit, he's probably the only person in the world who actually looks thinner on T.V. than in real life! Nominee for "Best Nightlife Photographer" Nikola Tamindzic was there to capture all the bitchy gaiety of the evening.

I showed up a little late with Jennifer Gerson from Jezebel. As we were checking her coat, this elfin Indian dude, a mover-and-shaker-type, came up to us and was dripping with intentions to network. We shook him off and made our way into the main room where we immediately saw Michael Musto sitting alone at a reserved table, not drinking his bottle service, not eating the mini-cheeseburgers served to him. So we went over there and asked if we could take a seat. He sort of ignored us, which was fine, because at least he wasn't telling us to not drink the hooch.

The awards—which featured such coveted titles as "Best Designer With Influence," and "Best Restaurant With A Nightlife Scene"—for the most part were confusing. People were making up nominees, and not really sticking to the script. Perez couldn't pronounce anyone's name (including Nikola's) so he just sort of mumbled a lot. Then when they announced the winner, it was hard to hear what anyone said, and people actually gave acceptance speeches. I guess it was more interesting looking around at the room at all the aging drag queens.

After the awards ceremony was over people milled about, and Jennifer and I were accosted by that lil' networking guy again. This time he was like, "Hey, you pretty girls want to come to this private party I'm throwing at a penthouse around the corner? It's gonna be really great. The owners of The Box are going to be there, it's gonna be a lot of fun."

"Oh really? Is there going to be coke?" I asked. I mean, it might be the influence of growing up with Brat Pack movies, but "penthouse parties" is synonymous with cocaine to me.

"Well, I mean you're welcome to bring your own," I turned back around to my drink and continued my conversation with Jennifer.

"Oh well, you know, Simon and the guys from The Box will have a lot of fun stuff for you girls, I'm sure," he offered. He turned to Jennifer and said, "I can make you famous."

"Um, that's alright," she said. We grabbed our goodie bags, which only contained a magazine, a perfume sample, and a box of Altoids, and left to hail a cab. And who did we see down there? Perez, with like five goodie bags. He must've really liked those perfume samples.

I told Josh to Photoshop Perez a vagina. He did a good job, right?