Went to the Versace Mansion; Didn't Bring Camera; Had to Steal Pics Off the Internet

This is the outside patio area. A stage with a DJ was set up in the pool.

This is the first room you walk into.
Odd thing about that fountain in the middle: It appears as if streams of water
are falling down (as they ought to). However, the streams are just
plastic wires that look like water.

Anyway, somehow I ended up at the Versace mansion on Saturday night. Dave and I met up with my promoter friend at 510 Ocean. He and I both live in New York but were coincidentally in Miami at the same time. He used to promote in Miami so he has way more connections than my own none. We were supposed to go somewhere else after 510 Ocean but then he mentioned the Versace thing. Cool.

We walked over (me, I limped in my 4 inch stilletos) and it occurred to me that it was the same place that Gianni Versace was shot. Two and two together, all that. Now it's a nightclub--a private one, I think. There was some private party going on there, but my friend somehow managed to make a call that led to about 20 of us getting in. I imagine this was because we were with 15 underage models. That seems to be a good recipe for nightclub success. Matt Damon and his wife followed right behind us. Of course, I was starstruck. I am way too easily impressed by celebrities. Even better than celebrities, though, is free alcohol. Trump has a vodka out and it was hosting the party. The bar ran out of glasses when we got to it, so Dave found some cabinets and raided them. We were suddenly the most popular kids there. This was only momentary because Hillary Duff and her sister walked in. Then that Travis Barker guy and all his tattoos entered, followed by rumors of Kimberly Stewart. Dave and I were drunk so we started sending around text messages to our friends. Only, in our text messages, Adriana Lima and other cooler celebrities were there. Sorry, Kimberly. You bore me.

From there we proceded to get shitfaced off of our Trump Vodka (talk about brand name recognition, Donnie!) The promoter friend eventaully gathered up his herd of sheep and took us some place called Mint. It was a big smelly nightclub (a genre I can't stand) but the booze were free, so....

The only money we spent that night was on a taxi and some salads. As we ate our salads, we watched two paparazzis wait patiently for someone outside of Privé. They were passing the time by taking pictures of each other strutting down an invisible catwalk next to a parked Bulgatti. When Dave crossed the street to pay homage to the rare car, he neglected to ask the paparazzi who was inside. Completely useless, I say! We got home at 5 or 6 a.m. and didn't really make it out so much on New Year's Eve. Thank God. I hate New Year's Eve. I also hate resolutions.

Anyway, here's a picture of a Bulgatti that was not in front of Privé. I also stole this off of someone else's site due to lacking a camera. Had I had a camera with me I would have taken some pic of the celebs and sold them to US Weekly. Either them or the sad little paparazzis. Oh yeah, back to the car. The one we saw was all black. If Dave would have told me it was a new Mercedes edition, I would have easily bought it. Sigh.