
You fucking prick, I’m so sick of being asked questions about my taffeta dickeys. I stopped with that shit a long time ago. I haven’t donned a dickey since ‘95. Well, once in ‘97 I wore a chiffon dickey to a chiffon dickey fund raiser, but that hardly counts. Man, was that a wild party. It was at the Drake. Andie MacDowell was there. Pendleton was there—he got so hopped up on the Steve Coogan moonshine that he tried to take his pants off over his head. Later he ran into Chris Noth and proposed to him. Never seen Austin like that. Anyway, we were raising money for kids in Africa who couldn’t afford chiffon dickeys, so it was for a good cause that I once again wore a false shirt-front. You know, it’s bullshit: do you realize that while 46 percent of Africans have access to potable water, zero percent have access to chiffon dickeys? Well, we did something about that.
Oh, also, Pendleton threw up in Bebe Neuwirth’s big hat.

