Have you slept in the last three days? Not us. After our Live Earth extravaganza, the Smoking Section EuroRailed it down to Paris to hang with our boy Ben Harper. Why Ben? Because his upcoming record, Lifeline, is a thing of beauty. We ran into him at the Ritz-Carlton, and what we anticipated would be a tame evening turned into an evening of utter excess. After cruising by the Notre Dame cathedral (so Ben could snap a few photos — it’s his hobby) we headed to the studio where Ben, in just one inspirational week with the Innocent Criminals, laid down Lifeline on a sixteen-track analog machine. (Track sixteen was out of commission, so they made do with just fifteen inputs.) From there we had a lovely dinner — sole meuniere, haricots vert and a delicious dish of potatoes au gratin — at a joint called La Coupole. Ben told us about the record, showed us pictures of his four incredibly handsome kids (two boys, two girls), and we even ran into Norah Jones, who was supping with her mom and Lee Alexander, her bassist and boyfriend.
We were gonna go check out a 50 Cent gig, but the food was too good to rush. Instead, we headed back to the Ritz for a nightcap in the Hemingway Bar, the spot where Ernest chilled back in the day. Thinking it was a nightcap, we sipped a few vodka-mint-honey concoctions (which, at the Hemingway, are called “Sunrise #7″ because last November Ben brought in a fresh mix of “Paris Sunrise #7,” the dope instrumental track on Lifeline). But, inspired by alcohol, we set out to track down Fitty and his crew. At the Buddha Bar, we missed him by five minutes. Ben and the S.S. then headed to the Park Hyatt. We didn’t see 50, but immediately we ran into the stragglers from the Eva Longoria-Tony Parker wedding, which went down the night before. We met San Antonio Spur Sean Elliot, Golden State Warrior guard Baron Davis, and, our favorite, French soccer legend Thierry Henry. And get this shit: Over the next few hours we split a bottle of champagne, then another, with our new pal, Jessica Alba. But the star of the evening was Hustle & Flow actor Terrence Howard. Who knew that one week ago in L.A., Howard finished recording his first CD? And it’s really good! Someone grabbed a boombox from their suite, brought it down to the bar, and at about 3 AM Howard screened the record — a totally unique soul sound, like the standout track, “Shine Through It” — for the assembled throng. So look out for that — should be coming out through Columbia Records real soon.
After the debauchery, the S.S. grabbed our bag and headed off to Orly Airport. That’s where we’re checking in from. We’re en route to Ibiza, to catch up with James Blunt, and if you thought Blunt was a quiet, introverted singer-songwriter, think again. The guy’s a fucking party animal. With his riches from Back to Bedlam, he bought a hilltop villa on the Spanish isle. We will be there, poolside, imminently. Maybe we’ll catch a siesta, but that might just be a waste of time.
This weekend you tortured your spouses/roommates/pets by spending hours 
