For those actually interested in these things, Court will not be held today. For God's sake it's sunny and in the 80's; we are skipping gossip and intrigue today.




That type of weather is what attracts people like Jared Leto, whom I passed on Thirteenth and Washington. He IS as handsome in person, but does he really need a body guard? It's not as if I was going to take off the strand of pearls, lasso him and tackle him to the ground; I just wanted to kiss him on the lips and ask, "Who is better? Me, or Alexander the Great".

Another recent visitor was Prime Minister Tony Blair and his family. And, though I have no love for the guy, he is at least more articulate than the bonehead running this country. I can't make sense, either, as to why a Parlimentary commission is investigation who paid for his trip. First, he flew on a regular British Airways plane (that skidded off the runway upon landing, destroying three runway lights and killing one old lady selling Santeria dolls) unlike the bonehead who flies to fundraising events on Air Force One. Plus, Blair is being pounded for staying at Robin Gibb's mansion here on the beach BUT, no one cared about his being here anyway. As the one reporter put it, "On the Miami Beach celebrity scale of J. Lo to your Aunt Hadassah at the Hebrew Home, Prime Minister Tony Blair ranks somewhere around that homeless guy on Lincoln road who wears a Santa suit all year round." Ouch!

Show me ONE person who has not mooched off of a friend who lives in Florida, and I will show you a person with NO friends in Florida.

And one last absurdity: I was passing the place that Crobar is occupying during renovation one evening and three very cute Scots, complete in kilts, were being barred from entering. I made some sort of gesture like fixing my parasol to give me the opportunity of listen in, and it was because the doorman said they would lift their kilts on the dance floor. You just wanted to clobber the guy; half the girls in this town don't wear panties under their skirts. It just wasn't right, but I have long since learned not to get involved with anyone afraid of the lifting of a skirt or kilt or anything. They are crazy and best left alone. (Like me this weekend.)