Wonkette

Last night, Team Wonkette rubbed elbows with the D.C. media elite, at the third annual presentation of the Michael Kelly Award:

The $25,000 award is given annually to a journalist whose work exemplifies a quality that animated Michael Kelly’s own career: the fearless pursuit and expression of truth. Kelly, who was the editor of two Atlantic Media publications, The Atlantic Monthly and National Journal, was killed while covering the war in Iraq in 2003.

It was a delightful evening, definitely one of the better parties that we’ve crashed attended lately. As media junkies, our heads were left spinning from all the star-spotting: Peggy Noonan! Adam Nagourney! Howard Fineman! Gwen Ifill! Matt Cooper! (But where was FROOMKIN???)

After the jump, additional commentary on the evening — plus fabulous photos, by Liz Gorman. Enjoy!

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So, you ladies want your own radio show?

We weren’t expecting too much when we were invited to a party at the XM Satellite Radio studios — big brick building in an ugly part of town, people not attractive enough for real radio, etc. — but the soirée was sponsored by Capitol File and it was for the spawn of Tim Russert, so it was packed fulla the media elite and their hangers-on, dressed in a confused amalgam of fancy and casual that DC still can’t quite pull off.

Still, we had a good time — mostly because the open bar was one the best-stocked we’ve seen so far (Makers! Beam Black! Turkey!), but also because James Carville kind of hit us on the shoulder and growled something unintelligible-but-maybe-threatening as he passed by us to refill his drink. Our full report, complete with exclusive pictures from Liz Gorman, Intrepid Girl Reporter, after the jump.

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Original Wonkette, Ana Marie Cox, sent us this meta-report (including a super top-secret look at the notes passed at the Cool Kids Table — had Sir Evans noticed, he surely would’ve demanded they read them before the entire class) after finding our own party crash report alarmingly assfucking-free: MORE »

A well-placed fern adds a touch of nature to your giant, panel-dwarfing doric columns.

Busy week so far for Wonkette. Last night saw us at some sort of weird auditorium/ballroom thing attached to the EPA (no one knew what purpose the space served, except for hosting panel discussions in a fancier-than-usual setting) for The Week Opinion Awards (in Partnership with The Aspen Institute). It was a blast, of course, though we admit that we don’t remember the awards bit, or the round-table bit, or the speeches, as we were having way too much fun schmoozing and drinking. We’re sure the winners were very deserving, though. Despite our not winning.

And boy, what a star-studded occasion it was. Froomkin! Arianna Huffington! Sid Blumenthal! Froomkin! Our full (hazily-reconstructed, actually) report, complete with exclusive photos from Liz Gorman, Intrepid Girl Reporter, after the jump.

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Springtime in Washington isn’t just about the cherry blossoms; it’s also about the parties. Monday night found Wonkette at Viridian, for the launch party for THIS IS OUR WAR: Servicemen’s Photographs of Life in Iraq.

The party was thrown by GQ, with editor-in-chief Jim Nelson hosting, and it was just as glamorous and trendy as one might have expected. The crowd was exceptionally young, attractive, and stylish (at least by D.C. standards). One attendee quipped: “There is more Prada in this room right now than in the entire rest of the District!” Another guest speculated that Beauitful People had been brought in from New York to prettify the proceedings.

After the jump, our report card on the festivities — including an account of General Clark’s hand brushing against our crotch. That definitely made the evening complete!

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Last Thursday night, while one-half of Wonkette was appearing on Countdown with Keith Olbermann, the other half was listening to Olbermann get mocked, at the gala dinner of the Media Research Center.

How’s that for objectivity? Wonkette: Fair and Balanced!

In case you’re not familiar with it, the MRC is a conservative watchdog organization deoted to “documenting, exposing and neutralizing liberal media bias.” In a nutshell, think of it as a Media Matters for right-wingers — and with cleaner bathrooms.

Cal Thomas likes his liberal journalists shaken, not stirred.

The highlight of the dinner was the presentation of the “DisHonor Awards,” bestowed upon “the most outrageously biased liberal reporters of 2005.” The awards were followed by a special tribute to the American military.

After the jump, a more detailed account of the evening’s festivities.

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Last night, the Wonkettes left their respective apartments and headed out into the real world, to attend an exciting event at the National Press Club. The event, “An Army of Davids or the Triumph of Goliath?”, was pitched as “a no-holds-barred debate” between these three giants: Glenn Reynolds, the Instapundit himself, and author of the just-published An Army of Davids; Joe Trippi, former campaign manager for Howard Dean, and author of The Revolution Will Not Be Televised; and Barry C. Lynn, senior fellow at the New American Foundation, and author of End of the Line. (They are pictured above, from left to right: Lynn, Trippi, Reynolds, and moderator Nick Gillespie, editor-in-chief of Reason.)

After the jump, our comprehensive coverage — plus more fantastic photos, taken by Wonkette shutterbug Liz Gorman, Intrepid Girl Reporter. Enjoy!

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* Not able to attend last week’s big Denmark solidarity rally here in Washington, led by the redoubtable Christopher Hitchens? Our comprehensive coverage — featuring the fantastic photos of Wonkette paparazza Liz Gorman, Intrepid Girl Reporter — is available here and here. MORE »

The guy on the left is like 45 seconds away from a glassing. (Photo courtesy Liz Gorman)

Last night found Wonkette dressed to kill at the Hilton Washington Hotel for the 23rd-annual National Press Foundation awards dinner, where we mingled with the ink-stained wretches (and their TV peers, who looked a bit more comfortable in formal wear) and pretended to be real-life journalists. For a recap of the night’s big name guests, speeches, and awardees, you’ll probably want to go here or here. For a bunch of pictures of journalists looking awkward, you’ve come to the right place! We snuck in Wonkette photographer Liz Gorman (without telling our host or getting her a ticket, natch) to capture Washington’s best, brightest, and most adept at scoring free dinners in their unnatural habitat. Full gallery and heavily embellished recollections after the jump!

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Last night, one of us attended a very fun event with Ana Marie Cox, Wonkette Emerita, at the National Press Club. The Original Wonkette read hilarous excerpts from her novel, took questions from the audience, and signed copies of Dog Days for a crowd of adoring fans. MORE »

Last week, from Thursday, February 9, through Saturday, February 11, conservative political activists from around the country descended upon Washington for the annual Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC). And the Wonkette Welcome Wagon was there to meet them!

Okay, we kinda missed all of the panels, speeches, and events. We didn’t get to hear Ann Coulter rail against “ragheads,” and we missed the mob-scene book signings by blogebrities Glenn Reynolds and Michelle Malkin. Nor did we attend the remarks of self-professed ex-gay Alan Chambers, who said sodomy was like fast food: “It will kill you.” Uh, not if you don’t swallow!

(Remember, boys and girls: as former President Clinton can tell you, the legal definition of sodomy encompasses a wide range of sexual acts. Black’s Law Dictionary defines sodomy as “oral or anal copulation between humans, or between humans and animals.” In other words, it’s not just assfucking!)

We don’t look that drunk, do we? (Photo by the Boi From Troy, blogging at our too-cool-for-school sibling.)

Sorry for that scholarly digression. Although we missed CPAC’s substantive presentations — if Ann Coulter mocking John Kerry as the other “dominant woman in American politics” qualifies as “substantive” — we did show up for the most important part: the drinking!

A chronicle of our misadventures, after the jump.

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