I'm behaving myself and was bored on Monday; so, I organized Mr. Astor's belt drawers. Black and brown belts in one drawer....

...and white and cloth belts in the second. I organized our sock drawer, too, but that's not nearly as interesting.

Yesterday was a little different. I got Leopoldo and Terry and, together, we stopped by The 11th Street Diner for lunch, then tore apart Twist's happy hour and proceeded to do the same to Score's. Of course, I've been abstaining from alcohol (I don't consider wine in that category as it is more like Life's Blood), so I've been able to step back and watch others make an ass out of themselves. It's absolutely appalling, and missed.

Jason S. sent this photo of me standing outside Countess Bedelia's cabana and surveying the Surfcomber's pool party below (those are my X-Ray glasses). Jason is involved in the annual Easter Bonnet Contest benefiting Shadowood II, Broward County's shelter for homeless individuals with HIV. Although we can't attend (Mr. Astor is working), it is a memorable event that shouldn't be missed.

One week after being nearly paralyzed in that fall, I managed to summon up the strength (not hurt by my rapid healing) and pulled off, with great help from Leopoldo and Terry, Henrietta's 69th birthday party. It was not the outrageous party like Terry's last weekend, but was a nice, stratified crowd which came to pay homage to their queen.

I had to have her pose for a full-length shot before the party began. What a fabulous outfit: a white leather studded cowgirl suit topped off with white fur boots.

The reports of my incapacitation have been greatly exaggerated. I suspect Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish might be behind this in a bid to have singular control of Society.

Glamorous celebrities like Miss Eboney Excell line up for our home-made buffet of sweet and sour meatballs, sausage casserole, beef Stroganoff, and chicken Alfredo.

The other side of the room was adorned with enough pastries to fill a small bakery, all baked by Henrietta.

The Sheer Shirt Sisters were of great help to me in making this party happen; some people can get away with this fashion, and others can't. By nine the party had moved to the front bar and, against my protests, it was decided to move the party to Score. I'm sure Henrietta didn't want to snub them, but that meant a still longer night.

At Score's karaoke night, the crowd buzzed around Henrietta and she delighted them with her rendition of Tennessee Waltz. I bet that was the first time they got a request for that. About 11:30 I caught Leopoldo and Henrietta whispering to each other and was then asked, "Can we go to Twist for just a half hour to see Mario?" This was no surprise as none of the three clubs could feel they were snubbed, so we piled into cabs and went South. It was disco night at Mario's bar, so that kept the blood flowing, but the ruse of "a half hour" became apparent. I kept thinking about how I felt just one week ago, convinced I was going to pull a Norma Desmond and seclude myself away forever. Oh, well; that thought ended soon enough.

In addition of a four-volume set of books about famous Hollywood women of the past, we gave Henrietta this pin of pearls and crystals. She was happy, and so were we. We live to celebrate more.

A weekend without guests is a blessing in Winter, here; it is nice to see your friends, but they are here to party and it is rather difficult to convince them that a nice day at home by the pool is a good enough trip. Mr. Astor had to attend to business, but Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish and myself entertained ourselves by watching the Bewitched marathon, and Terry and Bob went to the beach all day. By the time Mr. Astor arrived home last night, shades of the past had risen. Bob and Terry got drunk at Gay Beach all day and ended up bringing a dozen or so fellow beach-goers home to a pool party. It was only polite to visit and enjoy the party, although--to Bob's credit--it ended by eleven PM, a record of some type down here.
This time last week there was considerable concern that I might be paralyzed by the fall, but I guess it is not time for me to descend from the stage yet. Today, I will escort, as planned, Henrietta to her 69th birthday party. Two old broads you can't keep down.

Apart from my death-defying act, we will all remember Terry's birthday party at Twist as one of the most fun gatherings in memory. Sure, it was a bit over-the-top, or as Valentino wrote, "hedonistic", but it was fun.
Terry and his long-time husband (and my longer-time friend), Bob.

We started the huge spread of food with a rainbow fruit flag platter.

Many, many friends showed up, both local and from New York.

The Incomparable Geraldine performed all night for the crowd.

And, what birthday would be complete without Marilyn Monroe singing "Happy Birthday Mr. President?

I managed to snatch up one of The Countess's cabana boys, Stevey, to serve the crowd. He didn't disappoint.

The birthday boy had a blast (especially with the go-go boys), and that was what I planned.

There will be many memorable things about that night, but the cake with the Lois-created image of Terry with Lady GaGa on a deck of the Westerly house was a favorite.

Early this morning, The Baroness Seitzinger's gilded carriage (with those faux ducal crests on the doors) arrived at La Casa to bring me to the hospital where my stitches were quickly removed; I was not only home in time to make Mr. Astor's breakfast, but baked a dozen cookies as a sign that some sort of normalcy was returning. This is the first day I haven't taken any pain pills, too, and been in a semi-trance. The next two steps will be to the neurologist and the plastic surgeon, and I plan to be back in the saddle by April 17, my birthday, on which The Countess will be returning and taking a cabana at The Victor. It happily coincides with the Gay Pride Parade which will pass right before us.

I am very appreciative of the cards, emails, and flowers received from my friends (I even got a teddy bear from The Baroness and Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish), but--by far--the most unusual (and somewhat spooky) card came from dear Kendall. I have stared at it over and over, noting the extreme absurdities (the pink mules slay me). It's good to be alive.

And another gem to lift everyone's spirits: http://jessefreidin.com/gallery/the-doggie-gaga-project. Thanks, Luis.

I apologize for not posting, especially about Saturday's birthday for Terry; it was truly the best party I have ever given. But during the course of it, I was incautious and tripped on the last stairs of a staircase in the back and hit my face on the concrete. Although it was first thought by the hospital that I had broken my neck, that was not so "just" my nose. Therefore, I'm confined to some rest.

But of all the many messages of concern I have received, this touch me most from the GM of Twist:
Alexis,

You and Leopoldo are in my thoughts as I visualize a full recovery, quick, no more pain and complete. The last email I sent was obviously just before your injury. In that email I said I would compliment you on the party in person -"next time I see you again." It was the farthest thing in my mind that when I would see you next it was going to be semi conscience on the ground, with your condition hidden by blood. My prognosis was not good. I know that Leopoldo was suffering as well - not physically - but emotionally his pain was as bad as yours - I could see it in his eyes. As the EMT's arrived you were able to get up and walk to the stretcher. I knew then that you would get through this. It was in the stretcher - as you were being placed into the ambulance - when your self appointed guardian mentor, American socialite "the Mrs. Astor" said "I'm going to be alright - but I wrecked the party!". Before I could respond - you were inside the vehicle and on your way to the hospital.

The party had a fervor rarely achieved by 9:30pm. The gathering was in its closing stage and everyone was having a wonderful time. I'd be lying if I said that your situation didn;'t put a damper on things - it did - but the timing was appropriate. It wasn't a cause to go home - it evolved to meet the circumstances. The gathering became more emotional and less hedonistic. The energy felt good and it was coming from everyone. The love, concern and caring was overflowing from the bungalow bar and into the garden. Recognizing your misfortune everyone in the group was imbued with fellowship. The wild abandonment of thirty minutes prior was replaced with a serene happiness and an appreciation for each other. The affair took on an almost religious-like significance as guests pondered their own mortality. Everyone was grateful for the opportunity to share time with each other It was a communion of friendship filled with an appreciation for the life.

Luis has been keeping me advised as to your condition. Please let me know if I can be of help in anyway or if you need anything at all. I remain available. I know your recovery will be swift because you could never keep "the Mrs. Astor" down. Take Care!

Sincerely

Valentino

After an entire afternoon with The Countess at the pool party, we still managed to squeeze in the birthday party of DJ Leo's boyfriend, Sean. It was a weekend that never seemed to end.

Sunday was a wild day that began with wine for breakfast by the pool with whomever had crashed that night, an afternoon with The Countess, and an evening with Henrietta. I've always been one for "a look", and these two didn't get by my scrutiny. I wonder if they know who Peter Berlin was?

Dustin Reffka is one of the great, young party promoters here in town; his Tuesday nights at Twist, The Fun House, have become quite the event. Henrietta's 69 th birthday party will be held on Sunday, March 21. Copies of my book will finally be available in a public way. There are only fifty of them published with Henrietta's personal collection of photographs going back to the Fifties.

And, as if my life isn't difficult enough, I have asked that people do not pee in the pool. After the night of the twelve college boys, we noticed that the PH level of the pool had been noticeable changed by pee. Of course, this just made it all the more interesting to frolic in and we didn't do anything about it for two days.

Twist, Bungalow bar, Saturday March 13, 7 to 10 PM. Don't miss the chance........Open bar, great food, cabana boys stolen from The Countess Bedelia, and Twist strippers. What more could you ask for?

Although I haven't sent the email invitations out yet, let me just state--categorically--that if you are not out of town, hooked up to an IV in a hostpital, or in jail, you had better attend my birthday party for Terry this Saturday. Failure to do so, will result in your immediate excommunication from all future invitations. Don't think I'm kidding.

Oh, the images keep coming, the memory jogged every now and then to recall an indiscretion.

I'm really worried about Bob. He is the stable one, the one we all depend upon for sound judgement. Bob goes to bed early while we run wild in the streets; when he says "We have to have a talk..." everyone knows that whatever they are doing has got to end. But since the death of our friend, Mickey, he has decided to pick up the baton of bad behavior and run with it. We are scared silly.

After a six-day bacchanal, regretful images inevitably surface. Singing to Lady GaGa's "Bad Romance" is one of them. The next event of danger will be my party this Saturday in Twist's bungalow for Terry's fiftieth birthday; if I haven't seen you, contact me for the guest list (you won't regret it). Then next Sunday is Henrietta's 69 th birthday party...if we are still alive.
Of course, everyone was acting up including Dr. Brad and the lovely Georgette; they couldn't WAIT to get those hats on again. As I said: Wait until Saturday.

As I previously mentioned, I had no help in dealing with Countess Bedelia. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish escaped to Las Vegas and Baroness Seitzinger just did a classic and boarded herself inside her tower.
Wherever she went, Countess Bedelia attracted young boys. For six days she monopolized the young flocks of boys visiting for Winter Party Week. It was appalling.

I tried my best to keep up with Bedelia, but came in as a lame second as usual. Trying, though, was fun.

And, in a classic case of what came first: The chicken or the egg, I constantly wonder what is it about Papi underwear that drives people crazy. Is it the underwear itself, or what's in it? If it is what's in it, then remind yourself that this is what I have to deal with every day. Don't tell me I don't know what Vietman is like (my favorite John Waters line).

Meanwhile, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish was spotted buying cheezy fabric in a Las Vegas store. She appparently has gone back to her Big-Foot Hair she was so fond of in Nashville.

Much of the last six days remain a blur. Trying to fend off or at least tame Countess Bedelia was about as easy as stopping a Panzer tank with a garden hose; from the moment she landed it was The Countess this or The Countess that. I've never seen so many boys kowtow to one woman so much. She out-drank all of us and at one point during the pool party had three bottles of Glenlivet on her table; she put conspicuous consumption on the map again.
...as if she NEEDED a sign. When we arrived with two huge shopping bags of hats, several boys commented, "Oh, you must be bringing those to The Countess."

The hat collection made its appearance for the third year; too bad that old battle axe du Barry couldn't have made it, too.

The Countess was given three boys to make sure her guests were satisfied, and we were. Naturally I managed to get the numbers of Tommy, Steven, and Yaz; I'm throwing a party this Saturday and am quite sure their quality of service could be of use.

The warm weather returned just in time for 10,000 boys to wear as little as possible. From the ocean in the distance to the lobby of the hotel, all you could see were hot boys.

There are always a great deal of shenanigans which goes on in the Countess's pavilion.

But maybe nothing amused us more than this sign that the Task Force made for the dear countess. Leopoldo pointed out today that we haven't eaten in two days (I guess the bottle of savignon blanc I downed for breakfast really isn't in a food group).
And we got to see our two Broward County friends Penny and Miss Vicky. Good times. Later that night somehow a dozen college boys who were renting the house next us got invited to a midnight pool party, but that's another story.

Sometimes, you just have to acknowledge the obvious, and know you are alone against a social force more powerful than you are. Mrs. Styuvesant-Fish seemed to hide and Baroness Seitzinger--her purchased title and all not prevailing--was not to be found, either. So, I was to hold the tsunami that is Countess Bedelia at bay while working the opening event of the Winter Party, alone. I arranged the raffle items (with my Henrietta basket just one bit ahead of the tickets to Puerto Varhatta), puffed up the welcome bags, AND spent the majority of my time presenting trays of food, only to have The Countess breeze in and establish social superiority without a struggle. Oh, well....she did have the opportunity to meet our new, best friend, Jordan, at the Alliance For The Deaf table; she was enticed (as are we).

Later, she went on to conquer Twist, a long-time province of mine. There is no stopping her; I'm lucky to still have my boyfriend.....