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.