"Check."
"Hamish Bowles."
"Uh-huh."
"Toni Braxton."
"Yes."
"Ethan Brown?"
"Oh, I don't care what's real anymore," I moan, and then, "Party only."
"Matthew Broderick."
"Dinner if he's with Sarah Jessica Parker."
"Yes. Antonio Banderas."
"Do you know what Antonio said to Melanie Griffith when they first met?"
"` My deeck is beeger than Don's'?"
"`So you are Melanie. I am Antonio. How are you doing?'"
"He's got to stop telling interviewers that he's `not silly.'"
"Ross Bleckner."
"Check."
"Michael Bergin."
"Check it out-right, guys?"
"David Barton?"
"Oh, I do hope he comes with Suzanne wearing something cute by Raymond Dragon," I squeal. "Party only."
"Matthew Barney."
"Yes." "Candace Bushnell."
"Yes."
"Scott Bakula."
"Yes."
"Rebecca Brochman."
"Who's that?"
"The Kahlua heiress."
"Fine."
"Tyra Banks." "It's all I can do to just hold myself until I calm down."
"Yasmine Bleeth."
"I am shuddering with pleasure."
"Christian Bale."
"Uh-huh."
"Gil Bellows."
"Who?"
"He's famous in a, um, certain universe."
"You mean area code."
"You mean zip code. Proceed."
"Kevin Bacon."
"Fine, fine. But please, where's Sandra Bullock?" I ask.
"Her publicist said..." Beau pauses.
"Yes, go on."
"She doesn't know," JD finishes.
"Oh Jesus."
"Victor, don't scrunch your face up," Beau says. "You've gotta learn that it's more important to these people to be invited than to actually show up."
"No," I snap, pointing a finger. "People just really need to learn how to embrace their celebrity status."
"Victor-"
"Alison Poole said Sandra Bullock was coming, is coming-"
"When did you talk to Alison?" JD asks. "Or should I even be asking?"
"Don't ask why, JD," Beau says.
"Oh shit." JD shrugs. "What could be cooler than cheating on Chloe Byrnes?"
"Hey, watch it, you little mo."
"Is it because Camille Paglia once wrote eight thousand words on Chloe and not once mentioned you?"
"That bitch," I mutter, shuddering. "Okay, let's do the Ds."
"Beatrice Dalle."
"She's shooting that Ridley Scott movie in Prussia with Jean-Marc Barr."
"Barry Diller."
"Yes."
"Matt Dillon."
"Yes."
"Cliff Dorfman."
"Who?"
"Friend of Leonardo's."
"DiCaprio?"
"He will be wearing Richard Tyler and red velvet slippers and bringing Cliff Dorfman."
"Robert Downey, Jr."
"Only if he does his Chaplin! Oh please please get Downey to do his Chaplin!"
"Willem Dafoe."
"Party."
"Michael Douglas."
"Not coming. But Diandra is."
"I have assiduously followed the shattered path of their marriage. Check."
"Zelma Davis."
"I do not think I can control myself much longer."
"Johnny Depp."
"With Kate Moss. Dinner, yes."
"Stephen Dorff"
"Stephen"-I start, hesitantly-"Dorff. I mean, why are these people stars?"
"DNA? Dumb luck?"
"Proceed."
"Pilar and Nesya Demann."
"Of course."
"Laura Dern."
"Yikes!"
"Griffin Dunne."
"No party is complete."
"Meghan Douglas."
"Somebody needs to hose-me-down."
"Patrick Demarchelier."
"Yes."
"Jim Deutsch."
"Who?"
"A.k.a. Skipper Johnson?"
"Oh right, right."