‘Twas the night Hwood closes, and all through the land
Not an agent was rolling, with some soon to be tanned;
Bosses’ phone calls were ignored by assts without care,
In hopes that their contact soon would turn rare;
The actors were nestled all snug in their beds,
As visions of callbacks danced in their heads;
And Ari in his Prada suit, and I in my GAP,
Had just settled in town for a long winter’s nap,
When out on tracking boards there arose such a clatter,
I sprang off of Nikki to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Careful not to stare at celebs like touristy trash.
The moon on the breasts of reality stars did glow
Gave proof of Sunset nightlife going on below,
When, what to my glazed over eyes should appear,
But a party in Westwood, with plenty of beer,
So bring a designated driver, lively and quick,
Who can take you home should you get sick.
More excited than Speidi with the prospect of fame,
These partiers whistled, shouted,
And to this party they came; “Down, Highland! and, Santa Monica!
Now, Wilshire and Glendon!
Past The W! on Weyburn! Past Denny’s, on Tiverton!
To the front of the guard porch! Just say you’re a guest!
Of Apartment —-! With parking you’ll be blessed!”
Unlike heaves that before wild stomaches do fly,
You’ll meet with no obstacle, if you simply reply,
Up the stairs to the house-top you’ll find,
An apartment with vodka for you to unwind.
And then, in a twinkling, you’ll hear that night
Songs by Mariah, and Britney, you’ll be able to recite.
As you pour a shot, and take a look around,
So many Northwesterners and CAA assts abound.
Because in this town, it’s all about who you meet,
You’ll have all new stories with which you can tweet;
And even some photos you’ll post on Facebook,
That you’ll desperately try from HR to block.
Your eyes — how they’ll twinkle!
After some stolly with berry!
Your belly will be full, with peppermint schnapps and cherry!
We don’t require that everyone dress like an elf,
But it’d be fun to take that festive attire off the shelf;
Ugly sweaters are so two thousand and late,
But feel free to bring with you a date;
Even ones with broad faces or round bellies,
As long as you promise to shake your jellies.
There will be peppermint patty shots, atop a shelf,
And you’ll laugh when you take one, in spite of yourself;
If things get too rowdy to a bar we will head,
Alas, Westwood Brew Co is downstairs, so don’t dread;
So don’t speak a word to your boss, once you exit work,
And come join us Friday; or you’ll be quite a jerk,
Laying aside this email after you’ve read,
Hopefully a “yes” will be all that you’ve said;
So spring to your sleigh, and head down Wilshire,
For a night of fun, that may become quite a blur.
You’ll here us all exclaim, after this one final night,
“Happy Christmas to all, now go to LAX and get out of sight.”
Editor-in-Chief Nikki Finke - tip her here.