The lowdown: Four contestants, two rowdy rounds, one winner, and a flying beer. Round one: Joyce Maynard and Stephen Elliott. Round two: me and Sam Hurwitt. Beth Lisick and John Wolanske proved to be exuberant and witty judges. After Judge Numero Tres, Howard Junker, left the bar following the flying beer incident (compliments of Steve Elliott), the ever-suave Jack Boulware kindly stepped in to fill his seat.
Being the lazy mofo who represented my own magazine instead of throwing a contributor into the fray, I’ll admit I deserved to lose to the spunky Sam Hurwitt, who opened up a can of literary whoop-ass on me (hailing as I do from Alabama, I’m allowed to say whoop-ass sans quotation marks) before defeating Joyce-of-the-Excellent-Pies in a round of Stab a Hole in Nebraska. Sam got a crown and a sash and I even heard tell of a lap dance; alas, there are no pictures to prove it.
Opium’s Todd Zuniga & Elizabeth Koch emceed smartly and seemed so relaxed you’d think they’d been doing this in the Big Apple for years. Oh, wait, they have. But I’m so glad they moved to the West Coast, where we like our readings fast and loose and our martini glasses running over. Somebody noted that Elizabeth and Todd are the best-looking lit event hosts anywhere, ever, which is true but I don’t think we should be objectifying them that way. Todd was particularly adept at blindfolding the finalists. Speaking of blindfolds, Steve was surrounded by his usual posse of attractive co-eds after the event…but I wonder, would these sweet, academically inclined girls really know what to do with a whip? And where, I ask you, is my posse of 21-year-old wonderboys?
My sister, photographer par excellence Misty Richmond, was on hand to document the event for Opium. If you were there, check their website soon for compromising photos of yourself. There won’t be any of me, as Misty promised she would delete all photos of me stealing the olives from stray martinis. Shout-outs to Vince and Katherine, and to Mickey Disend, the only writer I know personally who could box his way out of a dark alley. And Charlie, you looked gorgeous.