The Duchess of Alba turned 85 today, and because the great celebration here in Miami Beach, The Countess du Barry of Newport had to postpone her trip here. She couldn't take the fight for the attention.

There is truly nothing to compare to Golden Blond at Bar Five at Twist. I remember when I first moved into this house, we had not had furniture shipped yet, but Edison brought Golden Blond and Helen Swan to rehearse for a show at The Palace. It was magical.

I know I go on and one about it, but Twist is still the big fish in town. For a place that never charges a cover, it provides so much entertainment from the glamor to the gutter (both of which I am convenient with).

We arrived at the hospital loaded down with a huge cake, treats, and balloons.
Henrietta had been watching Sex in the City, her face lit up with a huge smile, and she gasped with delight. In actuality, we were probably happier than she was to see the reaction. There were about ten of us and we stayed for several hours listening to stories, a favorite treat any time one has the honor of being with The Queen of South Beach. Unfortunately, it appears she will be there a little longer, so tomorrow I will bring her favorite vanilla ice cream and a (fake) pearl necklace to keep up appearances.
There's nothing like getting and new, jeweled top for you birthday, too.

It has been a harrowing week. Firstly, Leopoldo and I decided to try and work things out without splitting up the household (as I said, couples reconcile all all the time; let's try it. He totally agreed, so we are going forward again). That made me cautiously happy.

Then the owner of the nude Club Madonna got a posed picture I took of the mayor pretending to put a dollar bill down a go-go boy's shorts and made a poster of it outside his club to show his dislike of her. Of course, the mayor asked me to take the picture while her daughter and other "handler" were right behind me. She was courting the gay vote and being--true to life--stupid in the anxious search of votes she would not otherwise have gotten. She was elected with those votes, but the ridiculous scandal tickles the fancy of a town that has a big fancy.

And, then, Henrietta went to the hospital with a heart condition; her 70th birthday was already planned at Twist this Sunday when we learned she will not be coming home for another week. So, I told everyone, "If the Henrietta will not go the the mountains, the mountains will go to her". So, on Sunday we will bring the cake (and probably a lot of champagne) to the hospital to show our gratitude for all she has given us.

I used to call Mike Burke "The Thorn in City Hall's Side", but, now, I believe he is the sword in the county's side. Of his many announcements, I got this today:

Rick Scott (the new governor) has announced a gubernatorial earmark of $77m in pork for the port dredging. this is in addition to a previous state layout of $17.5 million and $120m in bonds to be let by generous miami- dade county.

would it be too much to ask what the taxpayers are getting in return for this $200m gouging? how many new "jobs" will just be for construction? what project was killed to free up those millions? finally, how much more rent, if any, will port operators pay us to retire all that debt? sounds like the tea party is laying out the sterling silver.

Thank God for people like Mike.


Meanwhile, Alva and Mamie start to square off. Thank God, I am the newly appointed Consul of Switzerland.


Also, the former Mr. Astor wants to reach
some sort of reconciliation. He (and I) don't want split so quickly. After nearly four years, our lives are so intricately woven that it would not be possible for a quick departure. Plus, there is his (not so sincerely taken) interest in reconciling. I am of the old school of "when it is over it is over". Still, we are giving it a chance. The month of March will the telling bell. There is so much lust, enticement, and instant gratification that it makes the month of February look like recess.

The town awoke yesterday from a collective hangover from the yearly Winter Party pool party at the Surfcomber Hotel. The Count La Mot worked daily on planning the event and it couldn't have run as smoothly as it did without his constant help, as he does with all the town's gay charity events. I had a nasty accident that morning where--trying to keep to a schedule that would allow me to arrive at the party by 2 PM-- I slipped on the bathroom floor cutting the eyebrow in a small, insignificant nick. It was enough to keep me home as it plew up into a black eye..

This weekend will be the even more intense Winter Music Conference. DJ's, music moguls, producers, and anyone who loves new music with descend upon Miami Beach like the Visigoths.

Meanwhile, The Baroness Seitzinger sent me this religious duel; she is convinced the one in the big hair is Mamie. I'd just like to get her competitor in finding The City Where We Never Die to South Beach, get him a hair cut and out of that damn suit and into a tank top and tight swim suit.

Like a good Yankee gal, I have been holding up as much as possible; the announcement by the former "Mr. Astor--now simply referred to as "Leo" (I will ALWAYS be Mrs. Astor)--has tried to use his newly=found ties to decorate himself, has only let him know that he is like Julius in The Forum. I warned him, in a personal and gracious manner, that the knives are drawn. He has said he found a new batch of friends that he values so highly. He should just hope a raven doesn't die at his feet on the way to one of many parties I created. It would be "ghastly".
Meanwhile, the Countess du Barry has formed an army of well-paid misfits to join her on the modern "Sherman" March To The Sea. She will take a launched "marched" from Newp0rt, $Rhode Island. She appears to want to truffle up Mrs. Sytyvesant-Fish, since she begins to buni Nawshsivlle, fiist. Murs. Suty isn't being taken in on the for a second, and has formed her own Praetorian Guard of un-washed, nearly-naked Latinos to form her front line.
I have been afforded the delicate position as the Swiss ambassador; I hold only the help to the restless.

I go for the uncut Latin0s (as I always have).

There is a momentous battle about to commence between Mrs.Styuvesant-Fish and The Countess du Barry of Newport. du Barry is returning from Newport to "Mrs Astor!!! I am on my way please hold on !! You and I will toss that Mrs Fish into the Horowitz Canal off 23rd Street. May she sink into the mud.... " This is a bit harsh, I do believe. But, the two of them have decided to participate in a social "Celebrity Death Match". Nothing could amuse a jaded town like this more.

Despite requests for alliance, I have wisely decided to be Miss Switzerland. I can't cast off my dear sister from Newport, but I have to live with the other windbag all week.