THE BIG WINNER at the MTV Video Music Awards is ...

At least I've broken the grisly tradition of spending the rest of VMA night hanging out at downtown bars and taking advantage of desperate bimbos who'll later end up dead in a hotel room booked by a prominent HBOproducer. Instead, I'm whoring it up on the red carpet at Tao for the afterparty hosted by Blender?a bad magazine, yes, but currently in my good graces for bringing in Junior Senior as the night's entertainment.

Also, they included the Doors in their recent listing of "The 50 Worst Artists in Music History."

Still, the only good question I have for celebrities is: "I was at a screening for Cabin Fever. Did I miss anything good?"

As it turns out, everybody else seems equally prepared. The night's recurring theme is a bunch of journalists straining to identify young guys who all look like Devon Sawa or that band in the Sheraton ads. The only real surprise is when the evening's most ludicrously long limo dispenses the Donnas?with Donna F. looking dazed and confused enough to serve as a one-woman Led Zeppelin tribute.

Of course, anyone who missed the VMAs can soon deduce that the night's big story is the kiss between Madonna and Britney. Commentary on the historic event makes for the media's general big follow-up to, "How'd you like the show?" Dave Navarro gets points for gallantry, too: "It was?good. You know, I'm here with Carmen Electra, so my Hot Meter is, um, already up there."

"It's a little too much for me," says reigning Miss Teen USA Tami Farrell, and that's kind of a relief. It would be a little too much for me if she'd given the kiss a rave endorsement. Unfortunately, Farrell's still docked several points for emphasizing the importance of "inner beauty" on this most shallow of nights. MTV Beach House VJ Vanessa Minnillo, however, is way off the leash. "Oh, my God," the former Miss Teen USA says, "I loved it. I thought it was perfect."

Minnillo, incidentally, is very surprised that I'm familiar with her own past history as Miss Teen USA. It's probably good not to look like the kind of guy who'd know that.

Let's note that, of all the red-carpet jockeys of the evening, Nick Scotti is the only one keeping it real inside the club, hanging out at the downstairs bar instead of the VIP area. Either that, or he had the same luck I did in trying to get past the bouncer. Special credit also has to go to the biggest stars of the evening, as the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy gang prefers to spend their time outside the club hanging with the public?although I doubt that dollar will do much to make over the crazy homeless lady Carson Kressley helps out.

Kressley then serves as a fashion MacGyver for a lady with a broken shoe strap, and then moves on to a friend with a fading wallet: "Does anyone have a staple gun?" (His shoes, incidentally, spell out "SUC ME," nicely uniting horny guys of all sexual preferences.) And Jai Rodriguez doesn't even care if you don't have the faintest idea that he has a specialty. He's just pleased with how things have gone so well for their "cheap little show." Honestly, they all seem like great guys. More power to them. I'm still not going to use that body fragrance in the goodie bag, though.

[jrt@nypress.com](mailto:jrt@nyprss.com)