As you all know, my newest, and only, goal in life is to become a famous socialite. I’ve recently been putting in a lot of effort, which is highly unlike me, to accomplish this goal as soon as possible. For starters, I’ve got this blog (and a book deal in the works) as well as the fact that I hang out with reality television stars on a pretty regular basis (once). I’ve also begun to attend other bars, before ending up at Felson’s of course, in an attempt to draw more attention to myself and my socialite lifestyle.
I started out my night with the intention of writing about Obama’s recent visit to Broughton and how awesome my family’s healthcare is. Earlier this week I had planned on stirring up some controversy about Obama’s visit, but I didn’t want my parents’ lawyers to have to deal with getting me out of trouble with the Secret Service (again). For now, I’ll just say that it was about time Obama came and explained his new healthcare “plan” to the people who deserved an explanation the most, wealthy ITBers who already have great healthcare. Obama mixed two things I love, Broughton and vehemently arguing about stuff that I don’t know anything about. I’ll go into this more when I lay out my own healthcare plan.
My quiet night in came to an abrupt end when a friend from out of town said he was out drinking. Obviously, I dropped what I was doing, which at the time was sitting on the couch watching Entourage reruns on Demand, and went down to some place on Gelwood South called Havanna’s. I figured it would be good to show the public that my socialite status allows me to get blackout any night of the week. Thankfully, there weren’t any gel heads at the bar. However, there actually weren’t any other people in the bar…..at all. I was pretty livid that no one was going to see how awesome I was at playing darts and taking shots on a random week night. Just when I thought things weren’t going my way, I got a sign that all my hard work is paying off.
First, I received an e-mail on my iPhone notifying me that Hadley, of the show Southern Belles, decided to accept my Facebook friend request. I thought it was odd that it took her so long (about a month) to do so. I can understand playing it cool for a little while on Facebook, because everyone knows that you need to wait at least 24 hours before accepting or responding to any friend requests, messages, or wall posts in order to remain cool and tough. But not responding for over a month made me begin to question my socialite status. Thinking she might need her memory refreshed, I sent her the following message:
Sorry for partying
Between Hadley Hartz and You
July 29 at 10:17pm
Thought you should check out this recap of what happened when I went out in Louisville http://www.itbinsider.com/?p=516. We met at some bar, I can’t remember the name, but I was the guy buying jäger bombs at 3:45am. I’m pretty sure you wanted to have late night at our hotel, but my friends and I were too drunk to even find our way back there. Sorry for partyin’.
William Needham Finley IV
A few minutes later, I got an e-mail from my IT guy telling me that Hadley had commented on the Southern Belles post. He verified that the IP address was from Louisville, Kentucky and said that he was positive she was the one who had left the following comment:
37. Hey… thanks for sending me this link, and for the bombs!
Hadley, July 31, 2009
That made it official. I’m now actual friends with a realty television star. Actual friends, not just bar friends (which are friends you never hang out with outside of the bar). It’s all coming together.
“Where will this lead?” you ask. If all goes well, I should develop (even more of) a drug problem as I spend more and more time with these other famous socialites. They’ll probably come visit Felson’s pretty soon, since I told Hadley all about it when we were hanging out in Louisville. I may even consider breaking my “don’t date until you’re 28” rule, since a lot of celebrities get attention because of who they’re dating. I know what you’re thinking, “What the hell? She’s not ITB?! If you don’t marry from a select group of families, your kids won’t be able to have full names that are just a mix of Raleigh landmarks or institutions!”. I’m not retarded, I know that I’m supposed to marry into a select group of families, ensuring that our children will add another prestigious name to the family tree.
But if you think about it, Louisville does have it’s similarities to Raleigh, both good and bad. 4th Street, their version of Gelwood South, is full of gel heads and girls with tramp stamps who have to deal with the hassle of making a decision on which bar to go to out of the countless options available to them. Yet Louisville is home to the Kentucky Derby, a place where the wealthy elite overdress in order to make ridiculous fashion statements while also betting on horses and losing tons of money within minutes, which is a lot like Felson’s. They’ve got midgets in pastel colored shirts riding big dumb animals, while we’ve got sorostitutes who end up ridin’ dirty on the dance floor after some jager bombs. Even their drinks are what some people would consider expensive. You could run up quite a tab ordering $1,000 mint juleps that are chilled with ice from the Arctic Circle, wherever that is.
Don’t worry, as long as I’m associating with socialites that have at least some class, I think I should be alright. I realize I’m going to have to break a few of my personal rules and sacrifice some of my “values” in order to become famous. That’s just the price I’ll have to pay during my rise to the top.