Puff Daddy pops and Lindsay Lohan texts at the eTalk Daily party
Friday’s eTalk party at the CTV building is in the running for crassest party at TIFF—or at least the one most resembling a barnyard. It took 20 minutes to get a drink, and it was enormously undignified to be smooshed on the stairwell and yelled at like third graders by security. Just another night out in the entertainment district? Maybe—but then something of Biblical proportion started to take shape. Gospel chants began, then drumbeats escalated to an intense degree. It felt as though the CTV parking lot was about to split open and money would blow up from the ground. Diddy had arrived. “Bad Boy 4 Life” kicked in and infected the crowd. It didn’t matter if you were behind the stage, rammed up against a fence or front and centre amid a sea of busty blondes—everyone simultaneously started to shake their rump with punctuating gang signs. It was a CTV corporate crunk-down. After the jump, our search for Lindsay Lohan.
Following our somewhat inappropriate grinding session with co-workers and industry colleagues, we went on a wild scavenger hunt to find Lindsay Lohan’s lady friend, Samantha Ronson. Sadly, we weren’t the only ones. Every person in the building had the same idea, and it became less of a hunt and more of a game of sardines. Elbows were knocking, vicious looks were shot everywhere, and intoxicated shouts filled the narrow halls. It was the pushiest mess witnessed in Toronto since H&M opened its doors for Stella McCartney’s launch and women ravaged the racks like crows on a carcass (we were there, we know).
Samantha Ronson: a name and face unrecognizable six months ago now has us frothing at the mouth, thanks to a drunken smooch from misbehavin’ Lindsay Lo. After several detours (that ended in poutine binges), we finally spotted the girls. Those who won the game of sardines were able to mad-text their friends immediately to say this: “Saw Lindsay, behind booth, tossing her red mane around, smoking cigarette while texting.” Sadly, no pictures were had, but at least we lived to tell the tale.—Jen McNeely