Reporting for Bed-Check, Sir.

I took the old fashioned way out of Twist's 12th anniversary: I went to the private party before opening, relayed my best wishes, downed several Kettle One's, AND was asked by the promoter of the annual drag awards show, Miss Ocean Drive, if I would be one of the judges. "Well, you know, with your experience in drag", Miss Amy Rivers said, and I cut her off. "You mean, 'with my experience photographing drag, don't you?" (My experience would set crossdressing back to the Ice Age.) That cleared up, I seems like I will be joining the celebrity board of judges in two weeks. I remember writing something about this; I was afraid to even breath my opinions for fear of retaliation. Oh, my; perhaps we can wear a mask. I remember To Tell the Truth where Kitty Carlylse would wear a little cat mask or something. It has to be tasteful. If Satan comes out in a blue dress and thinks that just because I had tea with him this week that I will be swayed, he's got another thought coming. I have standards!