Last night, everyone who was anyone headed to Avery Fisher Hall for the Glamour Awards to whip out their (embroidered) handkerchiefs and sob their way through an emotional awards ceremony paying tribute to various strong, empowering women who, coincidentally, also happened to be famous.

Afterwards, the teary-eyed guests checked their designer watches, carefully shoved their balled up Kleenex into their shiny Marc Jacobs' bags, and hightailed it over to Butter for the restaurant/club's fifth anniversary party.

For many, getting bast the discriminating bouncers would prove to be the night's greatest challenge. Would-be partygoers lined up around the block, dressed in their smartest downtown chic attire (black stiletto-heeled boots, nonexistent jackets and bored-slash-apathetic expressions) staring pleadingly at the the Dennis Kucinich-sized Richie Akiva, and waiting patiently next to an overflowing dumpster for the opportunity to mingle with the likes of the waxy-faced Lance Bass, the shiny-headed Seal and the morbidly obese Val "Iceman" Kilmer.

Before entering ourselves, we took stood beside the velvety ropes, next to a comely TMZ photographer friend and Sean Evans (a.k.a. Rush & Molloy's first heterosexual male assistant since, well, ever) enjoying a spectacular mildly obscured view of the red carpet. And the stars just kept on coming! Standing on tippy-toe, we were able to catch intermittent glimpses of celebrity extremities, from Brandon "Greasy" Bear's stomach paunch to Gavin DeGraw's shaggy blond curls to the left elbow of "the Jimmy Fallon guy" from 30 Rock.

Inside, the party was hopping. Seal performed for the amusement of the V.I.P. diners upstairs while we flocked downstairs for the comfort of second-tier models and an open bar. Once there, we stood next to Gatecrasher's Ben Widdicombe, who tried a sip of our "Butter Martini" (at our insistence) then promptly ordered himself a gin and tonic. We brushed elbows with Jeffrey Sloanim, a.k.a. The King of the Red Carpet, who bragged that he'd already seen Heidi and Seal earlier that night, but refused to disclose when/where lest we try to sleazily appropriate his "scoop."

On our way out, our friend (and date for the evening) insisted that we stop at the upstairs bar for one last drink, which was her way of saying she wanted to scour the area for a glimpse of the fat man formerly known as Val Kilmer. So we made our way through the narrow pathway—where we accidentally tripped over the lanky/ubiquitous Robert Verdi—and leisurely sipped on coca colas until she'd had her fill.

Upon finally exiting two or three sodas later, we saw an impenetrable row of fire trucks with flashing lights. "You ladies brought the house down!" joked our TMZ friend, before adding, "No, seriously, a piece of the that building just fell." Before we could ask him to elaborate, however, a nearby photographer tapped him on the shoulder and informed him that "the hot chick from last season's Real World" on her way in. And with that, the two were off and running.