The atmosphere of the ESPN headquarters takes on an almost carnival atmosphere at night. During the day, we are continually amused by the live broadcastes with the The Palace and The Tides in the background. I requested ESPN T-shirts for the dragshows on Saturday and they have promised to pan the sidewalk during the shows.

But, as always, there is the religious spoiler in the crowd, this time in a tin-pot, white trash van blaring warinings of doom. Don't these people have anything better to do, like check their mongoloid children's homework, or check on the pigs running loose in the back yard?

The manouvering for tickets to du Barry's Tiara Party has reached unrestainable heights. You either have one or you don't (but, check with me--I have pull). I just want to assure all that there is enough KettleOne to get through the afternoon.


Not a fun, fun day; so many friends in the hospital. It makes you wonder why you might be spared all these abominable maladies while those so younger fight them. It was interesting; when I visited the dogs today (without Ramon--in the hospital--there) they were so sad, ever-knowing. They just wanted some semblence of normalcy, I could see.

Still, life on South Beach went on.