Our train pulled into Twist's yearly Warsaw Ballroom party a little early, but the freaks were out in full force. Someone kept shoving drink tickets in our hands; it wasn't long before the night sank into the pit of strippers, drag queens, and dashing young men. I think we made it out of Warsaw and somehow ended up in East Prussia because everyone was wearing spiked helmuts.

George and David (I hope I got those names right) were visiting from Australia and quite dazzled by the goings-on. It just wouldn't be a night out at Twist without meeting some cuties.

Despite the rather terrifying make-up, Karloz was a ssweet as pie.

As usual, we sat with our dear bartenders Nathan and Mario. I asked Mario if someone had to lick off his body paint and he said he was waiting for Nathan to do that.

I swear that you can bounce quarters off of Mario's chest (and his ass, too).

But, the star--as always--was our Queen Henreitta I, wearing a Sixties dress purchased in Mexico. Her book made the rounds and was a big hit. Now, it is back to serious work; there is so much on the table now that I'm losing control of things. I hate that.