KRISTIE RAMIREZ’S NIGHT AT THE W

Kristie used to work here. We all know and love her. She reports:

I got off the elevator on the 16th floor to check out the pool, and Cuba Gooding Jr. was wrapped up in a bathrobe and wearing white slippers, fresh from Bliss Spa. He stared at me like a starved wolf eyeing a smoldering, dancing pork chop. I can’t blame him, I looked totally hot. But I was with my husband and that always counts.

RE: CELEBRITY SPOTTED

I’m pretty sure Alan Alda didn’t go to the W because, well, why would he? IJS.

CELEBRITY SPOTTED

A boyfriend-having FrontBurnervian says Alan Alda was at Cantina Laredo on Lovers today for lunch. One wonders, though. I mean, if he was in town, why wasn’t he at the W last night?

PAUL’S NIGHT AT THE W

I should have blogged live like Mr. Dallas did. But I was too busy throwing back the Absolut and Seven, Ketel One and Seven, Grey Goose and Seven, and then repeating. (I read, I think in Esquire, that drinking vodka lessens the hangover. It does and it doesn’t.)

Herewith, a hazy, somewhat breathless retelling of my evening, in which Big Bob “Fingers of Fury” Wilonsky and I accost former mayor Ron Kirk, I sneak into Ghostbar and dance next to, but not in, the VIP area, and then relieve myself next to Dirk Nowitzki.
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RE: FRIDAY AFTERNOON RANT

Someone called Ryan an idiot? She’s lucky. A reader took issue with my review of Michael Anthony’s Fine Dining and e-mailed me a zinger. She called me a “drunk…who can’t tell the difference between a fake and a real Prada.” (Silly girl, they all look the same after 3 glasses of wine.) I’ll share with you:
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RE: FRIDAY AFTERNOON RANT

To my defense, because I am the idiot. Here’s an email I got back from FC when I was doing research on the story:

I understand you inquired about FC Dallas player salaries for a story on highest salaries in the Dallas area. Major League Soccer is unique in that the League is under a single-entity structure, meaning that all owners of all the teams combine to pay the player salaries, while independently operating teams. Because of this, players are paid by MLS, not the individual teams in order to maintain cost controls. As a single-entity business, MLS does not release information on player salaries.

TIM’S NIGHT AT THE W

Sorry you couldn’t hang with us cool people up in the Ghostbar, Ryan. Here’s what the sloppily scrawled notes in my Moleskine suggest happened last night:
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FRIDAY AFTERNOON RANT

This just landed in my inbox:

Hey idiots, good job forgetting to include the salaries of the FC Dallas soccer players in your June 2006 Salary issue. They are professional athletes. We have a stadium. Get used to it. Idiots.

I would really like to know why people think they can be so rude to the media. It’s as if everyone forgets that there is a human being on the receiving end of that e-mail. But that is the curse of e-mail. It’s quick and anonymous. This guy never would have written that down, put it in an envelope, and mailed it. I guess his mother didn’t teach him that calling people idiots isn’t nice. At least he had the decency to sign his name. Most people take the chicken route.

Ironically, the other letters we’ve gotten about the June cover story have been outraged about the salaries we did include. Guess we’ll need to take a page of Pulse next month and publish all the soccer salaries, just to be fair.

HE HAD THE WHOLE WORLD IN HIS HANDS

I won’t (can’t) make a political statement here, but here’s a list of the folks who dined on Chris Ward’s Kobe beef last night.

POST-IT NOTE TO MR. DALLAS

Me=the sloth you couldn’t find last night. I didn’t attend the W opening. And, I didn’t barter my highly coveted invitation like some folks did. A FrontBurnervian Foodie, who loves me like a brother, reports that a gal pal of his handed her invite over to her hair stylist who was so excited he offered her free hair cuts for a year in return. And we’re not talking Super Cuts. Lemmings to the sea. Jump? How high? Who cares. Go Dallas.

ASHLEE SAYS NO TO PLAYBOY

The, ahem, singer turned down a $4 million offer to pose nude in Playboy. Oh, now she’s going to act like she has class?

WHY ARE THESE PEOPLE SMILING?">WHY ARE THESE PEOPLE SMILING?

Because their tummies were full of Kobe beef prepared by Mercury Grill exec chef Chris Ward. Laura Bush loves Ward—she almost hired him to man the White House kitchen. Now, she just calls him up to the bigs for big gigs like last night’s real W party–a Head of State dinner honoring Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi of Japan. Ward’s plane back to Dallas lands at noon. Details to follow.

SORRY WE KILLED YOU

An investigation by the Chicago Tribune strongly suggests that Texas executed an innocent man, Carlos De Luna, for the murder of Wanda Lopez, a convenience store clerk, 16 years ago. File under: “Continuing Reasons This State Is Too Stupid To Be Trusted With Killing The Right People.”

Speaking of those wrongly accused, check out Paul Kix’s story, “Framed,” on the ordeal of Greg Dunagan in the July issue of D.

GO LANCE

You know what would be cool? If Lance Armstrong decided to come out of retirement to win yet another Tour de France. Now that Ullrich and Basso are out because of doping, seems Lance wouldn’t even have to try too hard.

W HOTEL RECAP BUT NOT REALLY

Ordinarily I would write the recap of an event here. But, I’m pretty sure that the entire Dallas population was there last night, so you already know how the party went down. I will not bore you with the details. But, I hear that Cuba Gooding Jr. loves Stephanie. And Jonathan Silverman was lurking. And Michael Johnson (the athlete) is a real nice guy. And Ludacris was there but no one knows for sure. But, I did not wait in the elevator’s hour-long line to get up to Ghostbar so this is all hearsay. I hear Paul snuck in through the hotel staff’s industrial elevator, so he might have more juice.

[SOUND OF THROAT CLEARING]

The office is moving slowly this morning. The W opening clearly took its toll. Bear with us. [pulling out notebook, trying to decipher handwriting from last night]

FRIDAY FUN

Did you go to the grand opening of W last night? If so, are you feeling like poop? Even if you didn’t and you aren’t, you can enjoy this Friday’s Friday Fun: Poop Shoot. You are a seagull, and you must defend your beach territory the only way you can. Take aim. Fire.