I was studying the calendar again today. March 31 is our benefit for the Gay and Lesbian Youth Foundation and I--ever the one to coax money out of the hands of our well-heeled patrons--was plotting how to help it along. Miss Tiffany, herself a victim of gay teen trauma, had asked if I would host this fund raiser to an organization she calls home. (As if she really had to.) I was mulling over which liquor distributor I would shake down, when I remembered the huge cache of etched, tequila shot glasses in storage and dreamt up the idea of selling them (full) during the show. Elated, I went shopping in mid afternoon for some props.

Upon returning, I found my dear friend, Mamie (thinking, "Write of The Devil and She will Appear") and Alexander. As usual, they had nothing better to do than lunch and drink all afternoon and coaxed me away from my awesome responsibilities to join them. Alexander, though pressed to leave for Palm Beach for a family reunion that might one day relieve the tension I always hear: "Please; we're Old Money, it's all gone." told me of an group he leads for homeless gay youth and VIOLA'. We had the makings of a bigger event and my mind now centered on The Press. It's great to have these goals again, along with all the fun events.

I won't post any pictures of last night because redundancy is--well--redundant. But these tell the story.


These two photos tell all. Plamen is our newest bartender, a boy who worked his way up from the bottom and won the hearts of a generally heartless crowd with his friendliness, attention, and humor. I warned him about the intensity of the Papi night, but he was secure. He charmed ME with his orange arrangement for the night; I like thinking like that.

These were the photos upon my arrival and my departure. Poor thing.