Where My Party Peeps At?

By Ted Casablanca Jul 09, 2008 12:34 PMTags

Lindsay Lohan's ho-hum B-day bash had much to be desired (like a better guest list), whereas Nicole Richie may be on a path to relive her wrong-way-freeway ways. Plus, a Hilton proves she has feelings. So sweet, we knew they couldn't all be made of Bel Air stone!

Oh merde, how things have changed. Actually going to admit how very much we miss La Lohan’s more successful pedal-to-the-metal days. Think others do, too (in fact, we’re sure of it). ‘Couse, Lindsay spent her 22nd year of barely making it out alive at the Roosevelt Hotel’s bar, Teddy’s. The B-day bash including a bunch of questionable enablers at hand—maybe not the best way to celebrate your sobriety, being surrounded by all sorts of top-shelf liquor, but that’s just us. Attention-slut L2 made sure she was the most famous name in the joint. The guest list was comprised of girlfriend (ya know, a friend that’s a girl) Samantha Ronson, Lohan ladies Dina and Ali, and B-list celebs like David Spade. Is this the same gal who once shared an infamous car ride with Britney Spears and Paris Hilton? The same high-gear hon who held the gazes of Jude Law and Jared Leto? And the best stud-candy she could persuade to come was some hacky SNL alum? Maybe an alcoholic beverage should have sponsored the soiree, that woulda been a surefire way to get people to show up. One party yawner (who’s close to L2, by the by) was overheard bitching about the boring bash: “There are like eight people here. I want to go to Crown bar.” Guess LiLo alone isn’t enough to keep people entertained—something movie execs are finding out the hard way.

ZumaPress.com

While the B-day girl kept it low-key, sipping on apparently nonalcoholic libations, drama-magnet and "One Tough Mother" Dina had her own way of honoring the anniversary of giving birth to H’wood’s fave fiery rehabber: imbibing the night away and spending most of the evening smoking and socializing with her daughter’s amigos in the ladies’ room, lest any of the paps outside the place catch them lighting up. Jeez, where’s the E! camera crew when ya need 'em? And reportedly, there are worse things you can do in a club bathroom—Linds herself knows that.

AP Photo / Tammie Arroyo

Spotted in Sin City was Nicole Richie, celebrating the end of a long weekend—although, isn’t every weekend a long one for someone without a job? Mama Nick threw on her fave size 0 party threads and let it loose at the Hard Rock with her boy-f, Joel Madden, and his band of merry men, Good Charlotte. Musta been a tattoo convention, since Pink ex Cary Hart partied up with the heavily inked and rowdy crowd. And what’s Vegas without some sort of late-night naughtiness? Nic-hon reportedly ended her evening by getting into an altercation with another female while waiting at the valet early Sunday morn, supposedly causing such a scene she had to be escorted off the property by security—a tacky tale N.R. firmly denies. Whatever. We know waiting for your ride’s a bitch, but can’t we all behave while at the valet?

But get this: ain’t the first fight Miss Richie’s supposedly been involved in recently. Our scenester sources say Nic and Joely weren’t even attempting to cover up an angry argument while at an H'wood party last week. Could, perhaps, Ms. R be lashing out at anybody around her, what with all that frustration from having to be all sugar and no spice? I mean, is this new Nicole not the real Nicole, after all? And on the Fourth, gal spent the day in Malibu, enjoying her independence from her fam, which was nowhere to be seen. How much finagling do ya think she had to do to get a day to herself sans responsibilities?

Jeffrey Mayer/WireImage.com

Golf claps for Nicky R. Babe almost had us convinced she was a changed woman. But mama-hood sure hasn’t softened this starlet. Don’t believe any of those too-happy grins she puts on in all those photo ops. How could we be so foolish as to think this wild child’s wily ways were over and out? After appearing plump 'n' pretty while pregnant, N.R. is back to her stick-thin frame. She’s looking to hightail it out of unglam Glendale and return to her Beverly Hills stomping grounds, and it sure didn’t take long to find a string of babysitters for baby Harlow so she could step out on her beloved nightlife scene once again. Not to put a damper on this doll’s relaysh, but we wouldn't be surprised if she got back to her old, unhealthy habits sooner than later. She and sometimes partner-in-crime Paris will be Madden-free by year’s end, we predict.

 

After all, everything they do has entirely to do with what the other’s doing.

Pam Anderson, in the Delta terminal at LAX with her sons and a friend-for-hire assistant type. P.A. & Co. were headed south on a commercial flight, Fourth of July weekend. The gonzo group had security chaperones while boarding their first-class seats—whaddya expect, Pammy-pie to be crammed in a middle seat in coach? By the bitchy by, the commoner onlookers were simply seething when Ms. A bypassed the long line so as to haul her little bottom right onto the jet. Babe wore a white sleeveless top, showing off major cleavage, as if she ever isn’t—why she even bothered getting those damn knockers taken in, we’ll never know. Totally tanned with a mane of blond hair in a messy ponytail, Andy donned some tiny-tiny khaki shorts and towering wedges that made her actually seem tall. P.A.’s two tots were schlepping around some seriously heavy backpacks while Pam-poo was hands free, without even a carry-on to busy herself with throughout the flight. Back on less high-flying turf was...

Marcia Cross, indulging a sweet tooth at SusieCakes in Brentwood. M.C. shared a chocolate cupcake with one of her twin girls before buying up a few dozen for a wild ‘n’ crazy fete—complete with donkeys and magicians, one imagines. Let’s hope professional two-by-four Teri Hatcher was at the same bash and consumed a few frosted goodies, too. Oh, and the joint’s head baker, who was very much with child, inquired about M-doll’s stroller and the two mom-types talked it out in the sugar shop. We’re just surprised no one bugged the babe about the feh Desperate Housewives finale. Real-life desperate mother-and-daughter duo...

Lisa and Brittny Gastineau, needing a Hell-Ay pick-me-up (opting for caffeine, not sweetie stuff), idled their white Mercedes in the red while the elder G-gal trotted into celeb-heavy java hang Kings Road Cafe to get her brown stuff to go. B gabbed on the cell, waiting for her chauffeur to return. The passenger visor was down to block the setting sun, which is a bunch of crock, because B-hon was actually checking out her puss, wondering, no doubt, why the hell Kim Kardashian has her career.