H'wood Party Girl

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RSVPs:  Jeff Gordon, Rihanna, Paris Hilton… 
When:  Aug. 29
Where:  Avalon Hollywood

Reality-Star Check
Tonight’s host, big-shot driver Jeff Gordon, is supposed to make a grand entrance with Rihanna, who’s performing later in the evening. A publicist tells me she’s escorting the duo from the Roosevelt to the club, but, as is normal in Hollywood, things are running late. While I await the singer and speed racer, Heidi Montag helps manage guest check-in. Yes, Lauren "L.C." Conrad’s nemesis is actually working—and cameras aren’t even rolling!

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Perhaps that’s why the Hills honey felt no need to dress up. Unlike her coworkers, who are  in black minis and sky-high heels, Heidi’s keeping it simple with a wife-beater and jeans. After a while, she vanishes—probably to meet tabloid-loving fiancé Spencer Pratt to stage yet another photo op.

The Tanned and the Tattooed
Rihanna and Jeff are 20 minutes late. What could possibly be keeping them? Maybe they had to make a pit stop. Luckily, I have the strangest crowd to keep me occupied. Amid the throngs of Hollywood's typically trendy label-whores, I see a woman with a rose tattoo on her chest, balding men and a middle-aged divorcée dressed like Hayden Panettiere. “How old do you think I am?” the overly tan, high-mileage floozy inquires. I’m feeling nice, so I say 32. As if!

Speaking of tanorexia, Melissa Rivers reveals she’s a major NASCAR fan. “It’s just so much fun,” she says after hugging California Speedway president Gillian Zucker. “You have to go experience it to see how fabulous it is.” Maybe Melissa’s next gig will be hosting Talladega.

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Or not. Turns out she might have a conflict with the Emmys. “Chances are I will be participating,” the former TV Guide and E! red carpet host tells me of the looming awards show. “We have a big announcement coming out.” I knew Team Rivers would rise again.

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Need for Speed
Vroom, vroom, screech! Gordon is doing crazy doughnuts in the parking lot, while fans rush over with model cars and Sharpies. This was worth the wait. “She was screaming,” Gordon says of his passenger, Rihanna. "I don’t know if that means she was scared or having a good time.” I try to ask the "Umbrella" girl, but she quickly hobbles across the carpet on one stiletto and one wrapped ankle (following her mysterious "running into a chair on vacation" injury). Maybe it is just a ploy to dodge questions about her rumored romance with Shia LaBeouf. “We’re just friends,” she tells a television reporter before limping backstage to prepare for the show.  

Let the Fame Race Begin
Inside the bottom level of the ginormous club, quasi-famous folks like Eric Balfour, Blue Cantrell and Pussycat Doll Melody Thornton circle around, as Gordon leads his beautiful wife, Ingrid, to a VIP table. I'm surveying the upstairs area when Miss Paris suddenly appears with sis Nicky Hilton and birthday boy Brandon Davis. The trio celebrated Greasy Bear’s big day with Asian cuisine at Mr. Chow earlier in the evening, but that hardly explains Paris’ floor-length gown and blinding diamond necklace. This isn’t a royal ball, sweetie.

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It’s a concert, and Rihanna finally takes the stage with one blue suede bootie and her clashing ankle wrap. She should really follow fellow injured singer Joss Stone’s lead and go barefoot. Oh well. Rihanna still rocks the crowd by gyrating on her black stool.

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The Diva's on a Roll, and Drivers Lap It Up
Too bad Paris couldn't care less about the music. She’s already texting away by the time Rihanna bursts into her second song, “S.O.S.” By the third, Paris is out. Well, not quite. The attention-loving heiress heads down to the NASCAR drivers’ VIP area and happily obliges to rounds of photos, ignoring Rihanna’s impressive limping dance to “Umbrella” and “Shut Up and Drive.” Let’s hope Paris doesn’t drive her Bentley again tonight. Her water bottle has quickly been transformed into a shot glass. 

I should’ve known that when affluent men (those NASCAR drivers make big bank) and booze (there’s a bottle at every table) are present, so is Paris. So much for my attempt at a change of scenery in Hollywood.