I was such an innocent lamb when I called Carl Zablotny of The Wire magazine to confess that I had no idea how I got home when I only had one drink (at the bar). Carl said, "You've got to be kidding. You were drinking martinis from that woman's breasts all night." Then I remembered how mesmerized I was by the talent of the big-buxomed girl who had the cocktail shaker in her breasts, strainer in her mouth, and pouring Grey Goose without using her hands. You don't come across that every day.

Lady Arhlene and Tina Paul (the Fifi Bears), my mentor in New York and the only other person fanatically photographing the night life. They, too, have been part of my life for nearly 20 years. We shared so many visual delights and met so many fantastic people. Sadly, we saw so many friends go--as they put it--"...to the VIP Room in heaven."

So many martini glasses, so little time.

Miss Conspicuous Consumption. I loved Jeremy's remark when I, wandering around a garden of extreme decadence, said, "You'd never know that we were at war and loosing it." He barked back, with another military boy toy next to him, "WAR? WHAT WAR? " There's no war; I was mistaken, just like with the one drink.

Amanda Lepore; I knew her when she was a little girl or boy in New York. We never cared what you were, as long as you weren't boring.

Yes I remember her now--and the pig. The facts somehow have a way of coming out of the fog.

Words can not adequately describe a night with Susanne Bartsch. Photos, perhaps, can.