What am I doing in the parking lot with these people, and why am I drinking vodka and red bull?

I’m sitting here at my desk, drunk off of not only straight vodka but also some kind of vodka and red bull cocktail, the latter of which I’d never had before and the former of which I can’t recall having tried since high school. Curiously I have a wristband on each wrist, they both look identical to me, and a handstamp on the back of my left hand that looks like it reads “Jesus” in some kind of fancy script, apparently designed to match the tattoo inexplicably found on Katy Perry’s wrist.

An hour ago I was down the street at the Capitol Records building, or more accurately at a record release party in the parking lot of the Capitol Records building, for Katy Perry who according to iTunes currently has both the #1 song and the #4 album in the country. At least that’s what I think the charts say. Like I said, I’m pretty drunk.

How’d I end up getting invited to the party? Tough to remember at this point. It might have something to do with the fact that Katy Perry is on the current cover of my magazine, but what do I know. At one point during the party I was standing there chatting with Perez Hilton (no, not Paris Hilton). At another point I distinctly remember Dave Stewart from the Eurythmics standing to my left (or was it my right) while some fire-breathing guy was performing on my right (or was it my left). In addition to the free alcohol (80-proof vodka? is that even mathematically possible?), they were giving out free food. While standing in line, mega-producer Glen Ballard cut in front of me. Twice. Not that I minded. He’s masterminded enough albums in my record collection that I guess he can cut in front of me if he wants.

Katy performed five or six songs while actor Marks Molinari danced around on stage behind her in a giant cherry suit. I don’t mean that it was cherry in color. I mean that he was dressed up like an actual cherry. Then they gave Katy a gold record plaque for selling half a million copies of her first single. A quick hello to Katy’s publicist and it was time to head home.

Stunningly, a quick look at the photos I look reveals that none my bizarre memories of the event were vodka-influenced; the photos say that it actually happened the way I remember.

Just a typical night in Hollywood, I guess. I think I’m headed to bed. Like I said, I’m a little drunk. Now if I could just figure out how to get both of these wristbands off safely without injuring myself in the process…