Where does the time go? It seems like only yesterday that I was totally drunk. I am seriously worried that the lack of vodka in my system is making me boring; there certainly can't be anything more horrific. Baroness Seitzinger secluded herself in the rich arms of Palm Beach for the weekend and Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish decided to gamble her fate in Las Vegas.

Fortunately, I was left with two other lushes visiting from New York, Terrance and Victor. My, oh my, but even I was amazed at how quickly they polished off a bottle of vodka each and STILL managed to conduct an intelligent conversation. When Mr. Astor finally got off work, we were able to do what we do best: Forget how we got home. There was popcorn all over the house when I managed to get up; there must have been a circus in town.

OK...I have many friends visit, but I am not to blame for Terrance's plight. He has been here many times and certainly knows the dangers inherent in visiting Miami Beach. Don't worry; I spoke with him today and he did what every Northern white boy should to: Get up a 7 Am and swim inthe ocean. It washes all the sins away.

With Mr. Astor off all weekend, there was no doubt about the danger factor. I, however, maintained my sober approach to life and spent two days and nights guiding Leopoldo home and giving him a home-cooked meal. Oh, how the times have changed, but when I consider how many times he guided me home, the least I can do is to give him the same attention for the next year. As far as the weekend went, I only hope that there were no cameras around. There is that little Puerto Rican pool boy wantabee that I worry about.
I love the boys who will be girls; there will always be a fun factor that can't be matched elsewhere.

This is Aqua-Girl weekend here on South Beach; everything that is lesbian is celebrated. It is another fun-filled, devil-may-care weekend, for the girls.

Still, after three years, Mr. Astor and myself have a wonderful relationship base upon love, respect, and designer clothing. It's rather hot (especially when you peal off the layers).

The financial situation of The City of Miami Beach continues to slide into the abyss. Deficits of 10 million two budgets ago and 20 million one past are now feared to reach 40 million. This in a city of 80,000 or so full-time residents. The City has probably masked the problem with stimulus money (there are "reconstruction projects all over the town), the the real culprit is the outrageous salaries and pensions of its employees. The tally of salaries is appalling by any city's standards, let alone one so small. Six figure salaries are the rule and even secretaries make $75,000 a year. The city employee, fire, and police unions hold the dagger of death at the throat of Miami Beach.
The City's immediate fix: double fines and permit fees, hinder the opening of new businesses as much as possible, and make as much as an effort as possible to justify City Hall employees' positions as much as possible. I know of no business here that has escaped the usual shakedown--unless, of course, they are businesses own by commissioners or similarly connected people. It is discouraging and embarrassing. Corruption, whether blatant or veiled, in omnipresent, because delaying the right of a business to open after all the periods have been put on the sentences is one simple, if vague action: Corruption.

On a lighter note, Leopoldo is off all weekend and we intend to bring the town to its knees.

I don't know how I survived this, just passed, "season". It seems I threw a bunch of parties at which everyone seemed to have fun but me. I was too disabled by pain pills to have ever even left the house. Still, I survived to learn many lessons. Lately, I have given up the pills, toned down the drinking, and been focusing on the gym. How boring!
Terry left yesterday, but not before the necessary celebration of life; he and Bob will join Robyn and Linda on a long trip to Europe. There is some reason to hope that they will return for one weekend in June, but I wouldn't put money on that. Leopoldo and I have been left alone for the summer.

Pardon me, but what does a hippopotamus ask when he has a midget in his mouth? Answer: "Would you pass the mayo?"

This is the typical example of why I thing circuses featuring animals should be banned. From dancing bears in Russia mauling their tamer/torturer to elephants forced to dance on a ball for pudgy white children in Iowa, the notion that animals can be made to perform appalls decent people.

So, gobble up Mr. Hippo; we all should get a chance like that. I wish we could feed City Hall employees, one-by-one, to a giant Hippo in a sort of Coliseum-like venue. That would be entertainment.

We held what was officially the final pool party of the season tonight. Of course, nothing is final with a pool.

Whitney held court with the professorial side of Court; he is the new crazy one.

The enticing Giorgio lasted though out the evening, actually being one of the few who could be counted upon to drive. In the current atmosphere here, a designated driver is worth his weight in gold.

In the end, the boys gathered an debated the pros and cons of going out to Twist. I let Mr. Astor go there with Terry on the promise that they would look out for and come home with each other.

In the end, who was looking out for me through the jasmine plants, but Mr. Astor. You can be sober and still happy, I learned that the hard way.

Tonight's pool party has begun. I certainly hope this is the end of it, although I am not the spokesperson for natural behaviour. All I can do is sit back and wave it on.

News services from at least three continents have relished the story of anti-gay psychologist, George Rekers', brush with the "H" word, and I don't me Hypocrisy, alone. Rekers insists that he picked his companion for a European trip solely to carry his baggage and that doing such from a known baggage-carrier like Rentboy.com was routine. Admissions in the last 24 hours that the Rentboy performed a daily "sexual massage" for the trip only left the audiences on both sides rolling their eyes. The Miami Herald reported the most unfortunate lapse for the "I'm Right and, therefore, I'm right" clique was the fact that the entire state is in an uproar over the fact that the State of Florida paid this charlatan $120,000 to testify his good knowledge in the State's argument against gay adoption in the state. At least we--as taxpayers--know where the money is going.

Well, I have enjoyed a two-week period of being removed from most of life here. It has been also a period of sobriety. This doesn't mean I stopped drinking as much as it means I stopped getting drunk. Firstly, I stopped--cold turkey--all the pain pills; how easy it became to take a pill in order to feel like going out. So, I stopped the pill and the vodka and drifted into the world of wine and beer; this was fine but for the fact that I saw all my very close friends making absolute fools of themselves while I sipped away. We did celebrate Cinco de Mayo in a 48-hour marathon as only befitting a society woman dating the most popular Mexican on The Beach. I would be fooling no one if I maintained that I didn't have some Mexican in me.
The annual Cinco de Mayo block party in front of El Rancho Grande began, here, as six PM and ended up...

...being this at midnight. We had attended Score's party the night before where we were dancing to Lady GaGa's "Bad Romance" when it ended and a five-piece mariachi band came out. It was surreal.

On Wednesday night, we attended Twist's Cinco de Mayo party; some people can't get enough of Lady GaGa.

We met one of the lovely ladies of the night on a staircase at Twist.

It is a bittersweet weekend here as it is the last one that Terry will be here. His staying all winter brought us to great times; now he and Bob will go to Europe for the rest of the month. This will not happen--of course--without a party, and that will be this weekend. Tomorrow, I will have my first meeting with the principles behind the Club Madonna party for which I've been tapped to organized. I guess life goes on.