Hot and Dangerous.

Let's set the scene: Thursday. 6PM. Long line. Line so long you contemplate skipping the super hyped roller coaster.

Wait. Wrong scene. Let's rewind: Line so long you contemplate skipping the fashion show. But wait. Enter trusty ELLE ID. Cut line. Enter throng of stiletto-wearing, leather-sporting fashionistas. Casually stroll through sponsor booths. Notice that no noshies are available (just Trident and Monster--figures.). Get escorted to seat in sixth row (It's not the last row now, but it's not the first, either.). Spot Simon van Kempen, Alex McCord, Mario Something and Ramona Singer of the Real Housewives of NYC in the Front Row. Make mental note to capitalize "Front Row" in requisite first fashion show blog post. Tweet the Bravolebrities. Anxiously watch Blackberry during pre-show performance by no-name guitar player. Receive Tweet from Simon asking your opinion on Ryan Star's performance. Realize singer wasn't actually a no name wannabe, but in fact the dude opening for Bon Jovi on their Spring 2011 tour. Tweet back that he was FAB.

Notice that models start to come out. Feign a tiny tad of sympathy for the Snooki-pouf sporting models who have definitely never experienced Nutella, veal, or mashed potatoes, among some of God's other gifts to gluttony. Make mental note to call Ke$ha: this line is SO her (But how could a line called White Trash Beautiful not be?!). Spy Ramona of both Bravo and the Front Row snapping furiously with her digicam. Make mental wish that [the other] KR and JB were there to make jokes with. Watch the crowd more than the actual strutting.

Gasp to self, perhaps even audibly, "OMGZ is that Richie Sambora?!" Notice that show is over as the 80s guitarist, designer of the WTB show you just witnessed, struts out behind his entourage of tall Snookis (points for greatest oxymoron ever?). Realize that Richie is actually pretty hot. Wonder why Denise Richards left him for that gem of a gent, Charlie Sheen. Beeline from seat to try and come within a few inches of the RHONYC and their husbands. Fail.

Get on subway (ugh) with Snooki Lookalike #13. Contemplate saying, "Nice job!" but decide she's probably too hungry, and therefore cranky, to deal with a superficial compliment, just like you are after going eight hours without a scoop of Nutella. Return to the squalor of Brooklyn. Notice you've been Tweeted back now by both Ramona and Alex McCord! Tap yourself on back for a successful cyber hobnob with the Bravolebrities. Microwave some ultra delish and ultra fatty Trader Joe's Lasagna. Say your prayers, making sure to thank God that you're not a starving model, and hit the pillow by 10 PM.

Success? I think so!