New York firefighters, i.e. Drunk Tommy Gavin, Mustachioed Lou, and Cologned Franco driving a stolen pickup truck and armed to the teeth with Super Soakers, needed 45-whole minutes Saturday night to put out a fire in Heather Graham's Union Square apartment. It was a very harrowing experience for everyone, not least of all Graham, who had been preparing a sensual bath for herself. How do we know that Heather Graham was preparing a sensual bath for herself? FDNY Chief John Bley told the Post that the fire was most likely the result of "candles that maybe caught some clothes that were left near the tub."
Pretty much nothing is worse than having a bath interrupted. A raging scented-candle fire is probably the worst interruption, right ahead of an overly-curious cat and an importunate phone call. Worse than all of those things, however, is to be Heather Graham, have your very expensive 2,000-square foot Manhattan apartment catch fire, listen to downstairs neighbor Zach Braff do Scrubs shtick in front of his vanity mirror, and then, after firefighters show up to extinguish the blaze and ask a lot of circumspect questions, suffer the following lede from the Post's prurient scribes: "Heather Graham is smoking hot — and, last night, so was her Manhattan penthouse." Bummer.