I went to that super-Swank bar Jade last night with friends. Now, first of all, shouldn't there be some sort of notice outside the bar or on the bar's Web site that you have to sport the Nick Lachey, button-down untucked shirt look? Cause nobody told me and, boy, did I look out of place in my sweater. And second of all, I thought this was all some sort of media concoction, but it turns out that there are some guys who actually do wear blazers when they go out to a bar. Go figure.

We went to the bar for somebody 's birthday, somebody we kind of konw. This girl, it turns out, runs in a fairly different crowd than the typical crowd I hang out with (or who I went with). One of her friends was wearing a really low-cut blouse to show off what was fairly obvious from even afar was a fairly impressive rack. It wasn't until you got a somewhat semi-closer look at the pair that within seconds it become obvious that her fairly impressive rack was more the result of a really bad boob-job than genetics. I just one quick glance and my well-honed Skinemax seasoned eyes figured it out within seconds. Call me old fashioned, but is the point of getting a boob job so that everyone can tell it's a boob job? And is the reaction you want people to have is "wow, what a bad boob job?"

For those who haven't been to Jade, it's a fairly small place made bigger by it being three floors. To get out from the top floor, you have to walk down the steps which takes you to the side of the bar, where the bathrooms are. Since the bar was super-crowded, there was a large congregation of beautiful people hanging out pretty much right by the bathrooms. As I was leaving, I couldn't help but notice that somebody who was in one of the bathrooms was doing quite a number in there. And I could also tell that I wasn't the only one who noticed because a whole group of blondes were standing around sniffing their noses, trying to figure out if acknowledging the farting was worth the loss in fabulousness. Which, I found it is- everyone who was standing by the bathroom quickly lurched into the crowd to get away from it all.

One more thing about last night. Word on the streets is that the new hip drink is the mojito. Whatever. Problem is that bartenders HATE it's trendiness. They hate it because they have to crumple up the mint leaves and crush the sugar and on a crowded night like last night when all the Nicky Lachey and Paris Hilton wannabe's were ordering mojito's (one dude behind me ordered three of them) it means that much more work. It's the cocktail equivelant of ordering a half-caf, lo-fat, soy milk late at Starbucks.