What's going on with the Grey Lady this weekend?! First, the New York Times Magazine published its amazing interview with a clearly annoyed Sandra Lee. Not to be outdone, the paper's Styles section just released a creepy-and-not-in-the-still-endearing-way profile of author--excuse me, I mean totally awesome partygoing awesome ladies man who is awesome and has tons of sex and all of the friends and wow man he's just so cool seriously just an awesome sex-having ladies man--Salman Rushdie.

The Rushdie profile is noteable from the get-go due to its headline, "From Exile to Everywhere." So fetch, right? So original and totally not cliche!

It begins:

AT 8 p.m. on a rainy Tuesday last month, Salman Rushdie strode into Junoon, a Flatiron district restaurant where 90 people awaited his arrival, some sipping chamomile-infused vodka cocktails. Mr. Rushdie, the Indian-born British author, was the guest of honor at a dinner sponsored by Dom Pérignon and Booktrack, the maker of an app that synchronizes music to e-books.

It was the second party that night for Mr. Rushdie, 64, who earlier in the evening could be found chatting with Diane Von Furstenberg at a downtown show for the artist Ouattara Watts, hosted by Vladimir Restoin Roitfeld, one of his gallerists.

At Junoon, after plates of baby eggplant and lamb were scraped clean, Mr. Rushdie grabbed an iPad and read aloud his short story “In the South,” which appeared in The New Yorker in 2009 and which Booktrack had scored to original music played by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. After he finished, Mr. Rushdie approached a long-legged, slim brunet woman sitting at the end of a long table. “How did I do?” Mr. Rushdie asked. She cooed over the recitation, and he thanked her for coming. As he walked away, she turned to a fellow partygoer. “It’s nice to see him out, isn’t it?” she said.

You know what, it'd be impossible for me to summarize this without essentially copying and pasting the whole thing, so you should probably just go read it yourself. You know, if you're not too busy having sex, like Rushdie is all the time.