"the" Mrs. Astor

2011-12-09T13:25:00.014-05:00

As everyone knows, I have had a decades-old fascination with drag queens and trannies. I love Saturday nights at Twist for that reason; it seems to bring them all out. They know I love them.
Even the tragic ones.
There are the girls who stick to the classics of managing space...
...and others who just invent something from outer space.
I love a girl who is glamorous and shapely from the front...
...and behind.
Some look like a mirage of Havana in the Fifties.
Some look like a girl I helped with homework in Rhode Island.
There is always a girl who has just come from a pageant.
Some remind me of The Wiemar Republic...
...and, some, of The Bronx . They are always on the tip of the fashion iceberg.
The girls play the latest music, and....
... know all the latest dance steps.
Reigned over by Henrietta, The Queen of South Beach. All bow.

2011-12-07T16:39:00.005-05:00

I am starting to fire up again after that monstrous period of work. The gang-bang against Wall Street has not reached Miami Beach, although the mainland has had its hands full. Miami Beach is such a La-La Land that I would expect that most of the residents don't even know what it means. More power to them, but we don't want rabble spilling across the causeways and interrupting out special way of life. Therefore, before the barbarians are at the gate we are prepared for two things: either buy them off with drink tickets or blow up the bridges. In the meantime,while hell threatens our way of life, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish has agreed to join forces to fight the coming onslaught. We resurrected the

the clapping song

as a way of maintaining civility and fun. We have created a line dance to it that will make the barbarians shrink in horror and awe.

I have a harder time than Mamie in executing the more lively and demonstrative steps in my squashed-heeled shoes to Mamie's more sensible, flat, jeweled slippers, You always have do the best you can, though.

2011-11-15T19:17:00.004-05:00

I regret not posting for so long. Due to extreme circumstances, I have been working seven days a week at a job that has killed or incapacitated all my predecessors. Then, there have been the dramas a home. But, leave that for later.
It is not as if social life has ended; indeed, it is in full speed. I know that I will be accused of entrapment, but I threw a party at the Audubon Society, and--when Mrs.Styuvesant-Fish asked what the dress-code was--I replied "Oh, as casual as you think". So she showed up looking like Klondike Annie, while I showed up as Gloria Swanson. Sometimes, you have to show who is boss.
Of course, the media wouldn't stop taking pictures of me as much as I protested.

2011-10-09T02:00:00.002-04:00

Well I am back. After three weeks of working seven days a week because, my counterpart the owner's son had a breakdown, I have been exhausted. Plus my new doctor, a dreamboat, prescribed me pills to combat what he said was an underlying depression. Also, my computer screen died and I finally got a new, fabulous one.

This posting will be short due to the time (season at the house has begun, and there are boys sleeping on the living room floor, because the four bedrooms are full), but I have some bad news. The Baroness Seitzinger (living it up in London), must be informed that her precious pig committed suicide in the shower. Devoid of love, hounded by Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, and forced to read and see The Baroness's incessant email rants and pictures, thought there was only one way out. I have been close to the same end, but I know I must keep the club going.

2011-09-19T08:43:00.001-04:00

A very sad account of The Baroness Seitzinger's last flight.

2011-09-18T16:58:00.003-04:00

I have been under the weather this week and literately spent most of it in bed. Pain in my back had traveled from my knees to my shoulders and, then, a gentle spirit gave me a handful of Vicodin, and the pain went away and the sleep came back. Sleep has always been a problem for me; my youngest brother died at the age of twenty-one from a little known sleep disorder. He could sleep at the most one hour a night and it gradually broke him down and he died.
Meanwhile, I spent much of my lucid time talking with Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish (the hefty one on the right) about what to do about that Baroness Seitzinger. One thought was to auction off all her belongings here and donate the money to a good charity, like the home for gay teenagers, Pridelines.

The continued barrage of pictures announcing her new residence and these pretensions have to stop. We decided to use our contacts at the Dept. of Defense to buy a drone to take her out if she doesn't cease her obvious intention of marrying a broke Earl so we would have to refer to her as "Lady" Seitzinger.

2011-09-11T15:47:00.002-04:00

Baroness Sietzinger has been transferred to London where her company is paying $9,000 a month for her flat next to Kensington Palace. She has become unbearable with her pretensions; I am sure she is going to buy another title or marry into a penniless one. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish says she is happy to be rid of her, but we know she needed the baroness to keep me in check.
The Baroness has even found a nearby pub that suits her idea of just where she is in her new society. She is unbearable.

2011-09-05T13:42:00.000-04:00

My grandmother, Sarah Jane Gallagher du Bois of the Gallaghers of New London once told me "Manners are not the character, but they are the dress of character." It took this young girl a long time to understand what she meant, but it pretty much boiled down to ten points. So potent was this power over the world by the gentle sway of manners.
1. Learn to be gentle and patient.
2. Guard your temper and soften it by a sense of your own shortcomings.
3. Never speak or act in anger.
4. Never reply by angry word. It is the second word that makes the quarrel.
5. Learn to speak in a gentle tone of voice.
6. Learn to deny yourself and prefer others.
7. Learn to say kind and pleasant things when opportunity offers.
8. Avoid moods.
9. Do not neglect little things if they can affect the comfort of others in the
smallest degree.
10. And, remember that, valuable as the gift of speech is, silence is golden.

This was the basis of a gentle life in which concern for the self was second to that of others.

2011-09-01T16:31:00.002-04:00

My computer screen has been out for nearly a week; little did I did I know that all I had to do was the classic "unplug it and plug it back in". Sometimes the simplest answer to any problem.
Meanwhile, nothing has subsided here; this is supposed to be "off" season, but it seems to be on more than a chandelier at The Met.

Here, the ravishing Penny and the amazing Miss Vickie, attend the Pridelines Ball as Lady Penelope Anne von Schwisberg and The Count of von Schwisberg. There is always something happening here.

I have been working non-stop for ten days and am near collapse, but will go on.

2011-08-23T13:22:00.003-04:00

I am relieved to report that Lahoma van Zandt, famous entertainer and chanteuse of the last century, survived--with dignity and her usual flair for fashion--the earthquake that struck the eastern seaboard today. She had been arranging her postcard collection and reading fan mail when the tragedy struck; she grabbed the first, practical outfit she could find and immediately started passing out coffee and autographs to the survivors. Once a star, always a star (if a bit past her time).
A collective sigh of relief came over The Beach as we awoke to hear that Irene had turned to the East. Trip to Publix showed no panic-faced citizens grabbing food as if a nuclear; the sailboats in the bay (those on which people live) were still there as were the mega-yachts in their moorings. Of course, this is Florida, and anything can change on a dime; that's why I went shopping today.

2011-08-21T16:19:00.002-04:00

Baroness Sietzinger pulled into town after being run out of London. She didn't miss a beat, though, immediately throwing a sangria party. God knows how we trash the woman with the purchased title, but we love her. By the way, she fell in love with a cobbler in London; the poor thing. With all that money, and she can only find a man to replace a broken, squashed-heel.

2011-08-17T12:55:00.003-04:00

The Baroness Seitzinger has always read only the most high-brow, intellectual newspapers.

She has been given 48 hours to leave London before the mob with pitch forks and torches attack; the funny thing ever is what Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish said: "What's to say she won't be met by a mob with pitch forks and torches when she comes home?"

2011-08-16T22:02:00.002-04:00

If I remember correctly, the most scandalous thing I ever did on my many trips to London was to go to a Brixton dance hall that specialized in drag shows. In those days Brixton was like the lower East Side of New York City; you took your life in your hands to have a good time. But, The Baroness Seitzinger has been scouring London proper for signs like this; perverse things amuse perverse people. It is only a matter of time before they run her out of town with pitch forks and torches.

2011-08-15T15:40:00.002-04:00

Despite my continued ill health and the torrential rains, I have agreed with Mr. Astor (who is shoping at Macy's right now) to go to Score for some medicinal help. We went to see the movie, The Help, and found it astounding; how little we know about life back then.

Everyone has been commenting on my absence from "the scene", but I've plagued with extreme fatigue and fevers. I told some young thing that I felt like Violetta, and he replied, "You feel like a violin?"

Lady Bunny on Huffinton Post

2011-08-11T16:14:00.004-04:00

Lady Bunny with Alexis Arquette, when he was a boy. In the meantime, The Huffington Post had a fun article on one of our all time favorites:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-gascot/rupauls-drag-u-lady-bunny_b_913361.html

I'm still recovering from my bout with this fever, but things like this pick me up.

2011-08-10T12:20:00.002-04:00

Well Barpmess Seitzinger arrived in London a few days ago, and within hours riots started to engulf the city. I opined that it was her big mouth and, not being one to hold back the punches, that incited the population.

Then I hear that when she was presented at Court, she wore that enormous Star of Constantinople (pictured here before a photo of her sainted mother), and The Queen wasn't pleased--unless it had been a present, of ccourse. How she got a audience with The Queen is a mystery, but several rumors circulated about oral sex being performed on The House Guards but, I guess if Lady GaGa can get an audience, anyone can.

Still the gaudy size of Star shocked The Queen, riots began, half of London is experiencing a modern Blitz, and The Baroness is mainly concerning with the china she is being served off of (there's something wrong with all of this). .

2011-08-08T20:25:00.002-04:00

I have had a severe fever for several days; I seldom got out of bed. Perhaps the best thing that came out of it was the touching devotion Mr. Astor paid to me, cooking, cleaning, and doting on me. We have had a difficult time of late.

The most astounding news came from Mamie, who knows how much I love The Duchess of Alba. As quoted by The Guardian, "She is one of the richest women in Spain, owns a dozen castles whose walls are hung with works by Goya, Velázquez and Titian and is a distant relative of King James II, Winston Churchill and Diana, Princess of Wales. Now, however, the 18th Duchess of Alba is giving away her immense personal fortune in order to be free to marry a minor civil servant.

According to Guinness World Records, Maria del Rosario Cayetana Alfonsa Victoria Eugenia Francisca Fitz-James Stuart y de Silva, born in Madrid's Palacio de Lira, has more titles than any noble on earth, being a duchess seven times over, a countess 22 times and a marquesa 24. As head of the 539-year-old House of Alba, her privileges include not having to kneel before the pope and the right to ride on horseback into Seville cathedral."

What is she thinking? Oh, I know.....LOVE. It isn't worth that much, but when you are 85 you know you can't take it with you.

2011-07-25T15:02:00.003-04:00

I know how negligent I have been; if I get one more inquiry as to whether or not I am still alive, I will kill myself. It is not that I have the most demanding work schedule, either. For as long as I can remember, these were the slow months. But, starting with Twist's anniversary on June 29, there has been a relentless number of events to deal with. I count at least four birthdays or anniversaries a week
Of course, we celebrated our fifth on the fifteenth. A few days later, Score celebrated their thirteenth . Before you knew it, you were showing up for dog parties. The new Polaroid camera didn't help things; it was a great hit with the young set (who were amazed by the suddenness of fame).

I also spent a lot of time reading about The Countess of Rothes; what a lovely woman. I almost awarded the title to a Palm Beach matron but withdrew it at the last moment. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish disdains the awarding of titles, although I know some must have one to survive the social tsunami out there. Neither one of us has a title; we were born into "position".

So, Mr. Astor and I have been marauding around town engaging in a type of social drive-by-shooting; I'm not proud of our behaviour, but it sure has been fun. We are taking Henrietta to Key West this weekend for a "rest".
And, we have both been captivated by our Nicholas.

I don't know what else to say, except that I have let The Beach get to me again. I am way to "advanced" to keep dancing on table tops, but poo-poo happens. Thank God for the sound advice from friends like Mamie; if I ever get any, I will listen.

2011-07-01T18:37:00.003-04:00

All roads lead to Rome; on Wednesday night Rome was--as usual--Twist, which was celebrating its eighteenth, yes eighteenth, anniversary with Gladiatorial drag queen fights, mock naval battles, and even some Christians eaten (willingly) . While carriages, chariots, and limos lined up outside, The Queen of South Beach, Henrietta, immediately, hooked up with Twist owner, Emperor Richard Trainor. We couldn't stay long--although long enough to show off her sequined, laced, and fringed dress along with an enough diamonds to rival that of the Duchess of Windsor--but, when we left at two, mobs of South Beach diplomats and elegant riff-raff were piling in. Only if we didn't have to work the next day; it might have been like last weekend. Oh, no; what am I thinking; those days are gone.

2011-06-24T16:59:00.003-04:00

The town has been summoned: tomorrow, Sat. the 25th, Twist will host the birthday party for my prince, Leopoldo, at five PM. No presents are required, just presence. Those who do not attend will require a doctor's notice or a certificate from a current President-For-Life (one that I hold, but don't use often. Titles like President-For-Life shouldn't be misused as simply the acquiring of it meant a lot of misused power). That aside, there may be the groundswell for a pool party on Sunday, and I--as a President-For-Life--don't take groundswells lightly. There is a reason one remains in that position.

2011-06-22T20:35:00.004-04:00

You never know who you are talking to in this town. Last night I made a fleeting comment to a rather young boy at Twist about The Countess of Rothes, and he replied, "Lifeboat number eight of The Titanic". Of course, he was immediately accepted to court, given a title, and came over for a beer or twot. We giddily talked about Sir Cosmo Duff Gordon while Mr. Astor yawned; he is not a history buff, just an ass buff. This reminded me of a rather haunting You Tube entry about the famous member of Lifeboat Eight:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClqxvX0AevU

James St. James and Lady Bunny

2011-06-22T12:40:00.008-04:00

We had the honor of Lady Bunny coming over for my birthday pool party; those days in New York City seem like they were in another century (well, actually, they were)...
...but, I haven't seen James St. James since we all seemed to disperse after the Michael Alig affair. Talk about crazy, here he was at the infamous Blood Feast night celebrating murder, when we all knew Michael had hacked up his drug dealer.

Bunny sent me this, and it made me weep with the happiness of having been a part of the madness:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3jQnHYHHbA

2011-06-19T14:07:00.002-04:00

You can wear anything (or nothing) on South Beach. I assumed he was from Europe, but learned he was a little girl from Little Rock.
Of course, wearing little does gather admirers.

2011-06-15T12:00:00.006-04:00

On Sunday we celebrated Henrietta's fiftieth anniversary of arriving and going in drag on Miami Beach. As usual the spread was astounding: twelve trays of food and pastries, all made by The Queen, herself. Actually we had all been out at Twist until four in the morning, but Henrietta got up at 6 AM to cook. She prepared food for two hundred people and still pulled it off while looking lovely.
Wearing one of her tiaras and a new, diamond necklace, Henrietta looked radiant.
A City proclamation declaring "Recognition" of Henrietta as an important asset to the town, was read on the part of Mayor Bower and The Commission.
After the private reading, Tiffany read the City proclamation outside to the adoring crowd. God bless them both.
On Monday, after a great lunch on Lincoln Road with Carl and Leo, we hooked up with my buddies from the hey-days of New York night life, Tina Paul and Ahrlene Ayalin, when we two of the few photographers allowed into the deepest, darkest gutter clubs of that city. My favorite remark was made from Tina to Leopoldo when she told him about meeting me "....when he lived in a penthouse and had a pig running around." (That was Peggy The Pig, a great story that still needs to be told.)
And, again, Henrietta looked great--even for an afternoon outfit, she wore a superb cameo she inherited from an aunt. Thank God I had Tuesday and Wednesday off this week in order to recover and repair from the weekend.

Coming up: Steven Stewart's birthday party at Twist on Friday, Leopoldo's birthday at Twist on Saturday, June 25, and Twist's own 18th anniversary party of Wed., the 29th. There was a time when everything calmed down after Memorial Day. In order to survive, you have to well-plan the times of rest in between this madness.

2011-06-12T12:10:00.006-04:00

I not have only neglected making any posts, but have not opened my email since Memorial Day; what a nightmare. Perhaps the trigger-happy police on Memorial Day put me in a spell; there's nothing like some good publicity of a crazed police force shooting up the town and then grabbing the cell phones of watchers and smashing them on the ground. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDs-Wp_TN2c

In any event, life has been going on as usual, although I have been working way, way too much.

Last night we began the stations of the cross at Score...
...but ended up at the Altar of Nicholas at Twist, which still is the only game in town. Then, of course , there is the back yard.....

2011-05-29T15:45:00.002-04:00

There are a few still left in town to show their devotion to each other, the town, and the institution named Twist. In all of America, Memorial Day Weekend represents all that is community, whatever that may entail. But, on Miami Beach it means running away. The flight out of town began on Thursday; most everyone I know left town and, those who didn't, decided it was an ideal weekend to do home improvement.

Memorial Day Weekend used to be called Hip Hop Weekend; it has now become a euphemism : Urban Festival Weekend. Past years of riots, police snipers on roofs, and ruined business tainted the weekend as a need-to-escape venue. Personally, I have found the last years to be rather tame compared to 2003,when riot police from dozens of neighboring towns manned every corner.

Mr. Astor had to work today and, I took the opportunity to do--what else--home improvement. All is peaceful up here; our neighborhood is very much out of the touch of anything but pool parties and glib conversation. Mr. A. and I have discussed meeting up with Susie at Twist at seven tonight; in my opinion, as long as you can go door-to-door, all is fine.

2011-05-24T17:55:00.008-04:00

On weekends some of the most exotic creatures find themselves at Twist; it becomes a sort of tranny heaven.

Any night can be Halloween...or New Year's Eve on South Beach.
I was attracted to the jewelry and he told me his name of Dominique; then he said, "Well my full name is Henry Steven Dominique so-and-so." I told he that he had picked the right name.

This is Miss Filet....
...so, I introduced her to Mr. Mignon.
I get into a cross-dresser Nirvana, my eyes glaze over, I go home from Twist feeling just a little bit more educated about human nature.

2011-05-22T19:25:00.002-04:00

Good Lord....is there no end to this party train? Meanwhile--while the children were at church--Twist did what it does best: It doesn't just participate in a party, it throws a Roman spectacle . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrnCS_xuqo0

2011-05-21T18:26:00.003-04:00

"A-Hoy Mrs Astor...We are about to sail by Savannah Georgia this late afternoon. I have also enlisted the 164 Cavalry of some 1500 troops that are marching though Atlanta as we speak General von Lipshits is leading the march.
My ground intelligences said they have spotted Mrs Fish hiking up that torn mud drenched hoop skirt and running for the Louisiana swamp."

THAT was what the carrier parrot returned with.

Dear, dear. I must send my ambassador, Jose, back to the bed where he does his most diplomatic work in, and step in myself. A woman of my social magnitude, I mean a woman of my social size, must intercede when times call. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish must stop rattling that rusted cum-stained, sword of hers, and The Countess du Barry must stop the decrepit Newport fleet from trying to maintain afloat with more gin than gun powder.

I hereby announce that I will broker a deal between the North and the South. I do this for no gain for myself, but for the sailors and gardeners who will suffer; not that the three of us will miss a happy hour or a glass of port during this "Guns of August" affair.
Meanwhile, I will, without much celebration, accept the Noble Peace Prize. It is the least I can do. I always take the high ground.....or at least to maneuvered the upper gutter.

2011-05-19T17:11:00.003-04:00

Things do not look good. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish continues to saber-rattle and point her cannon to the North, and Countess du Barry is leading the Newport fleet to show her who is boss. It is a typical Yankee versus South confrontation about to take place; at last point, it was reported the fleet was off of Norfolk taking on coal and rum (but, nothing is ever that simple). At first I took the cable to mean they were taking on Cole Porter and fun. Alas, trouble is brewing, either way.
I have appointed a well-quipped ambassador of mine, Jose, to mediate. I mean, if you can't find something to agree about with him, there is a real problem.

We both returned to work today after a tortuous five days off; may the heavens never let the stars fall in line like that again. All eyes are on Memorial Day and just who is staying, who is leaving, and has to barricade themselves inside their chateaus. Mamie has been boiling hog fat in caldrons to protect herself from the assault from Newport, but I fear she may need it before that lumbering fleet arrives to save her lily-white flesh.

2011-05-17T21:14:00.004-04:00

Something has to be done to defuse the situation between Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish and The Countess du Barry; Mamie's saber-ratttling has prompted du Barry to ready the fleet at Newport to come down and bombard her seaside residence. Mamie is constantly nagging me about how "...you people (i.e. Yankees)" changed her way of life; I can usually shut her up by uttering one word: Sherman (as in March to the Sea).
We kept our promise to take Henrietta out on the town and ended up at Twist until the scary time of four AM. We had to get up that day at 9 AM to attend Joe's Stone Crab last brunch before that season ends.
Henrietta has bounced back wonderfully and is back in the jewelry district buying new items.
I'm always fascinated by new faces, and alth0ugh this newbie had a face that only a mother could love, she deserved so attention.
The weekend ended at Twist (again) and I'm afraid that I snapped. Billy is a hairdresser whom I've known for many, many years. She does, although have the most annoying and loud voice that is constantly spew out her opinions. When you correct him on everything, he'll let out a blood-cuddling screech. So I had to kill him. Well, almost.

2011-05-15T15:24:00.002-04:00

We took Henrietta, The Queen Mother, out last night til something like four in the morning (I haven't transferred those pics yet). Then we got got up to have breakfast at Joe's Stone Crabs as it was the last day before they close for the summer.

We dined with Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, and she was a bawdy as ever; that woman has no shame. She didn't even remember coming into the bungalow and flashing her tits to us and everyone else in the room. Poor thing. Still, we are stuck with each other, for neither one of us could say we ruled this pitiful town without each other. She doesn't really trust me, though; she has positioned a cannon outside her seaside mansion to worn me off. Poor thing; I am so harmless.

2011-05-14T21:48:00.002-04:00

I don't know....where does the time go? It is hard being relatively sober and well-behaved. "Well-behaved" has to have a presidential commission to really describe it to the public. I have been a a good citizen of the republic for some time now.
We couldn't avoid Cinco de Mayo in Miami; even the gringos join in the fun, and we did have a lot.
And, then, just when we thought we were just going to have cocktails on a quiet Monday afternoon, Donald Duck walked by on Lincoln Road. You never know what will happen here.

2011-05-03T21:29:00.002-04:00

Not drinking alcohol in excess doesn't mean you can avoid excess in general, hence, Miss Jackie Wilson. I have had some falls, especially, when it came to the new owner of The Palace, but life has been wildly quiet.....for now.

Only In Miami

2011-04-30T17:47:00.002-04:00

One of the reasons I won't drive.

2011-04-29T17:21:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, I had a riotous afternoon with Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, and--today--had an equally riotous afternoon with that Baroness Seitszinger. The only difference was that The Baroness kept trying to steal my platinum watch. She almost fooled me the first time, when she gently raised my arm and said, "You have such soft skin." Then I felt the clasp come undone; after four more times, I warned her that I could survive life without the watch, but she would have a difficult time if I bit her ear off. Good times.

2011-04-28T20:03:00.002-04:00

The Baroness Seitzinger managed to capture a photo of me in a swimsuit. She was told that cameras were not allowed, but secretly put one in her outrageously expensive, vulgar bonnets. The nerve!

2011-04-27T20:34:00.002-04:00

We have some rough times, of the present, but I still love my baby and I still my croc. I still wouldn't give either of them up for a second---as long as I had a knife in my hand (and the town knows it).

2011-04-27T19:52:00.002-04:00

The Baroness Seitzinger has all the illusions about having a nearly, ocean-liner sized boat off shore, so we drove ours right into the the harbor to show her off. We haven't heard from her since (and don't expect to). I mean, it's not as if all that the money of hers bought the Queen Mary. She is still just New Money. Of course, we love her still (and that purchased title), Most of us were born with no titles, but now that she purchased The Duchess of Whimsy for me, I adore her.

2011-04-26T21:39:00.002-04:00

We had soooooo much fun with The Queen Mother. I love Beth.

The Nerve

2011-04-26T21:15:00.004-04:00

We caught this image in Palm Beach, and The Baroness Sieztzigner immediately commented: " That was my dingy....the yacht was in the ocean" New money has it's power; old money has its dignity, even if it doesn't mean anything anymore.

2011-04-26T13:17:00.001-04:00

Since the Twist safari, it seems we have been adopting monkeys. That's fine with me--they are so cute--, but it has increased my banana budget to the max. Someone has to put their paw.....or foot down.

2011-04-23T20:31:00.002-04:00

Out at night with Dustin Redfeka and his husband, Patriick. Two of the nicest guys in town.

2011-04-20T15:05:00.001-04:00

The pics still continue to flow in. Me and Leopoldo guarding Henrietta's jeep from the savages.

2011-04-19T14:25:00.003-04:00

There was a lot of worry about how do you host a party after the town has not slept for three days. Somehow, enough friends mustered up the strength to attend my birthday pool party. I won't go into the gory details of what happened once we let the Latin boys out of the guest bedroom, but Leopoldo and I caught two of them totally naked in the back, back yard having intimate relations. I made believe that I had lost my way to watch for a while until Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish roared around the other side and tried to crash the party. And, believe me, you don't want to "crash" into that.
Lady Bunny was quite comfortable in front of a cheese platter. I turned my back for one minute and all the cheddar cubes were gone.
The formal group shot. The Queen Mother, Henrietta, is seated on the left, and the current Queen Bunny is seated on the right. I couldn't have wondered about a more perfect birthday and thank Leopoldo and Bob for all the help they put into pulling it off.

I also thank The Baroness Sietzinger. I have never been one for titles. Being known by the entire town as Mrs. Astor has suited me fine. But, being one for purchased titles, Baroness showed up with one for me: The Duchess of Whimsy. It will come in handy for the royal wedding.

Gay Pride Parade 2011

2011-04-18T15:06:00.018-04:00

Twist's float was a jungle theme, and included fifty animals, gymnasts, spear-carrying natives, and (like us) the bwana-jujus, the British safari big wigs (although not as big as Lady Bunny's).
As usual, we escorted Henrietta, who wore an appropriate outfit. It was so heartening to hear the crown calling her name as we inched up Ocean Drive.
I brought my stuffed croc (Wally) and he immediately became a sensation by being the hood ornament on Henrietta's jeep. I bought him twenty years ago in San Juan and he has led the good life ever since (althogh KiKi always hept him in line).
This jubilant horse boy followed us and...
...that it made me wish I had been reborn as a saddle.
Our cutie-pie bartender, J.D.
Twist owner, Richard Trainor, basking in the jungle heat.

Lady Bunny, with the gorilla hand around her torso, made me weep.
Our beloved Karloz was the best monkey, ever!
After the parade, and at Twist, Wally started to hang out with the beautiful people.
There were like minds at Twist, later.
Wally took up KiKi's old habits of biting toes.
Chuckles, however, immediately felll into the club scene. We haven't seen him since.
What a wonderful time, as we followed the Twist Float, guarding Henrietta in our safari uniforms. Twist far out-paced all the other floats in style and vigor. What a day!

2011-04-16T09:20:00.003-04:00

I can't wait for "season" to end; traditionally it ends at Easter, but in the last few years it has dragged up until Memorial Day.
Last Saturday we accompanied Henrietta out on the town. It was the usual stops at Score and Twist. I marveled at Henrietta's hair ornament and just how she got it all so perfect.
On Sunday afternoon, I attended Thomas Barker's brunch at The Angler. It was one of those all-the-vodka-you-can-drink affairs, which was tragic because I stopped drinking that wondrous beverage many months ago. I did sip a few, though, and got tragically sick, so it was a lesson learned: do not attend a brunch that has a two hour cocktail hour if you can't drink.
And on Wednesday I was on my way to the gym, decided that I was a little early for my trainer, and turned off Lincoln Road to Mova to have a glass of wine where I ran into Geraldine. This town is so jaded that her outfit didn't even cause second looks. I won't even go into the Elmo purse.

Today is the great Gay Pride Parade in which we will be in the Twist contingent. The theme is Jungle and we put together lovely safari outfits to guard Henrietta from all those native.

Tomorrow is my birthday pool party.

Monday is going to be spent all day in bed.

2011-04-08T20:37:00.010-04:00

"Season" unleashes a non-stop rush toward bad behavior. Personally, I'm not against it, but it does have its dangers.

"Season" is almost, hopefully, over. The dangers inherent in it will pass, too (hopefully). Yesterday, I was sipping cocktails with Leopoldo when our friend, Phil, burst in and exclaimed, "Oh, I heard in Paris that you, two had reconciled and were back together!" Word travels. We are back to the formidable couple we used to be (and liking it).

Meanwhile we have attended so many parties that it is difficult to pinpoint one of the best, but I can: The Underwear Party at Twist. Here are a few of my favorites.
My personal favorite, Nicholas (on the left) with Josiah (our gay Morman).
The always enjoyable Mario with those nipples you could bounce quarters off of.
That sweetie, Nathan, whom I've know for a dozen years.
Josiah, trying to look mean.
The engaging Karloz, who makes our drinks frozen and our hearts warm.
Erik, who is straight.....but you can dream.
And Leo (with Erik).

So much is coming up: Gay Pride and, the next day, my birthday pool party. And, of course, the infamous Easter Egg Hunt.

Then, summer hibernation; well sort of.

2011-04-02T20:46:00.003-04:00

The Baroness Sietzinger is a crafty witch. Somehow, she managed to get a photo of me drinking out of a martini glass filled with peanuts instead of gin. She doesn't go out much anymore, but when she does, she manages to promote that purchased title to the hilt.
Then, she managed another photo that she has been promoting around town of me having sex with a blow-up doll. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish and myself have both determined something has to be done with The Baroness Seitzinger. "What" is still a question, but seeing that Mrs. S-F was driven out of town to Palm Beach by peasants with pitch forks and torches yesterday (for behavior unknown to Decent Society), the final note of what to do with The Baroness will wait until next week. Of course, Mr. Astor and myself were both part of the debauchery that drove Mamie out of town, but I have diplomatic immunity, being an ambassador of Twist (plus, I got all the phone numbers while those other fools were groping and fondling. Those little Latin boys will be at a pool party before they know it). Which brings us to Latin boys.......the next post.

2011-03-28T19:27:00.002-04:00

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.

2011-03-28T17:08:00.003-04:00

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.

2011-03-27T18:34:00.003-04:00

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).

2011-03-21T15:03:00.002-04:00

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.

2011-03-18T19:22:00.002-04:00

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.

2011-03-10T17:26:00.007-05:00

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.

2011-03-09T17:08:00.004-05:00

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.

2011-03-05T17:28:00.002-05:00

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).

2011-03-01T16:26:00.002-05:00

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.

2011-02-28T22:31:00.002-05:00

I can not go without mentioning this week's birthday party of our dear friend, The Count la Mot, Luis here of the right with some white trash he picked up (only kidding, Steven). The Count has devoted his life to charitable events; he is an incredible social force in this town. I am honored he is a close friend. The other one, however......well I had better be nice or I won't have lights in my office. He took over Club 721 for the event, a wise move to a decent venue.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish reminded me that I had ceded all social power to her several weeks ago, during a moment of my deepest depression as my relationship fell apart. Well, Mamie, I have climbed out of my hole; you needn't think absolute power lasts forever. I have invited The Countess du Barry down from Newport to re-establish the the bi-power order of things (and I don't mean it to be equal, dear). You enjoyed three weeks of absolute, social power only to squander it on young boys, booze, and coke. Ymmm, maybe you had something there.

2011-02-25T19:23:00.004-05:00

The Countess du Barry blew into town like a New England Hurricane and quickly tried to make it appear that she owned it again. She started with her extravagant table settings. M.s Stuyvesant-Fish and I had all we could do except call in a Chinook helicopter to take her out. Still, it was great fun to have the leaders of Society together again; still, Alva belongs in Newport and let Mamie and myself battle out to be the contender of "Beloved Leader of Society". Too many potatoes in the pot can cause trouble.

Well, our circus party at Twist was even more extravagant than I expected. I left my clown suit at home (it had a stain on it); but if you want to see something spectacular here it is: http://www.twistsobe.com/twist_photosthumb.asp?galcatid=167.

Meanwhile life goes one; Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish has been stopping by most days to send support and nastiness; The Baroness seems to have been engulfed in her endless cases of red wine.

2011-02-22T18:31:00.002-05:00

What can I say? the last month has been Hell. Leopoldo decided that he was so popular that he didn't need me. Surely he is handsome and engaging, and I know the monster I created. There are always fun shoes.

He is trying to leave as soon as possible; that is difficult in this town. We had a fine four years. But the best thing about it is that there was a gentleman whom I met a year ago and stayed in contact here and there, who told me a month ago that he saw what was happening and that he wanted to step in in the the end. Right now, he is Mr. E, but will soon be Mr. A.

2011-02-12T21:23:00.002-05:00

Well, at long last I am back to reporting what goes on in a town where fascinating evils that can ruin any weakness abound. This was a shot of the infamous croquet game at the Wickenhammer/Fiorello estate began. It would be pointless to focus in on the peculiarities of the participants, but leave it to say that Alva--in the most New Port, R.I. way--bossed herself around as if she owned the town. Mrs. Stuyestant-Fish countered by filing her plate with enough food to feed Sudan. Fortunately, Alva was off-set by the social magnitude of Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, who continually engaged her in verbal jousting all day. I decided to play Swiss, and be neutral for the short time I stayed. I was called away by a work emergency and could not stay for the match, itself; but, then, I understand most of the participants couldn't stand for the game, and ended up at Twist. Still, civility, survived (for a day).

2011-02-06T10:49:00.006-05:00

God only knows what has happened in the last two weeks. "Season" here on Miami Beach has a way of taking over one's life. Last weekend we escorted Henrietta on the usual tour of clubs; amazingly, when I used to drink I could only last until 2 AM and there I was at 4 AM prying Leopoldo and Henrietta off of the bar and still wanting to stay later. On Sunday I attended a luncheon where there seemed to be no solid food and got convinced that I had to meet Henrietta at The Palace at two. This led us to Twist, which led to stripper boys. I never knew being sober could be such fun; everyone around us were acting like idiots (so much for the glimpse of one's past).
It was bound to happen sooner or later, and Alva Vanderbilt flew down from Newport. The entire social apple cart was overturned.

Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish immediately tried to enlist Alva into a motion to strip me of some social powers. Little did she know, that Newporters stick together in times like these. Alva said she was going to grind Mrs. S-F into a 60/40 chuck; Mrs. S-F retaliated by saying she was going to get revenge for what "you Yankees" stripped the South of. All I know is that we are all attending a croquet party at the Wickenhammer's's estate today at two and it isn't going to be pretty. I, of course, will be pretty; I will be in white and tan--classic, but restrained. I will also have a bullet-proof vest and a poisoned hat pin.

2011-01-21T13:06:00.002-05:00

Well, so far my tee totaling has not hindered our social existence, something I feared. I am determined to maintain that same schedule and position while keeping the circle of friends I have developed over the last decade. It is difficult, though.

However....one great thing has come about. I have shed about fifteen pounds during this rough period and my waist went down from a 36 to a 34. "Big deal" one can say, but you have to realize that I have shrunk into Mr. Astor's size (he has actually gone down to a 32). This is akin to winning the Fashion Lottery; a wealth of Versace, D & G, Gucci, Prada and more are now at my beckoning. There is, of course, the length issue; Mr. Astor is two inches taller than I am. But as long as there is a needle and thread, or even pins or masking tape, the loot is for the taking. I think will throw open the doors of his bulging closet and pronounce, "You now belong to me!"

2011-01-19T21:05:00.002-05:00

Despite the restrictions I have to operate under, we have been able to keep up with the social schedule that exists, and persists, during what we call "Season". It is one thing to decide to drink only Perrier, but so difficult to avoid the innumerable offers of shots and other special toasts.
We attended--as we always do--Susie's Sunday BBQ in Twist's garden outside the bungalow where she works. Yesterday, we went to the movies to see Oy Vey, My Son is Gay, a predictable, but fun, film, strolled over to see Kathy at Score and then went to Twist to keep up on the gossip. As long as I can continue our routine and see the friends we have, I will have no problem with the new reality, but there will be a change coming.

2011-01-16T14:37:00.003-05:00

Well, the results of several doctor visits are in. As everyone knows, I used to be the single, greatest consumer of Stoli Blueberry on the beach. Five months ago I decided to stop, cold turkey, and went on to sipping wine or beer during social events. Both doctors, separately, told me my body went into a type of shock, looking for something it was used to. Insomnia developed, getting to the point where I slept only an hour or two hours, a night, I had no appetite, my sense of balance was altered, and, suddenly, when I did have a cocktail, the body seemed to think that I had had ten. They told me I should have consulted a doctor when I quit, and they put me on medication that has reversed all of those conditions (along with the responsibility to refrain from any drinking except for an occasional red wine or beer). Who knew?
We attended a wild party that Thomas Barker threw last night at Twist. Grey Goose flowed from dozens of bottles with one guest holding a bottle and pouring it's contents down the throat of another. Boys and girls danced on the tables and couches of the VIP area while I sipped Perrier. Sitting next to Barker, I asked, "What's the occasion?" "Who knows?", he replied. And, we squealed with laughter. We still had fun; but what a wonder it is to be sober amongst freaks.

2011-01-11T12:15:00.003-05:00

I continue to be holed up at home dealing with a multitude of problems. The insomnia issue is getting the best of me; I sit up at 3 AM watching reruns of Anderson Cooper. Few know this, but my brother Thomas died at the age of 23 from a condition named Fatal Familial Insomnia. It was tragic to see him whither away and, I have never forgotten that it is an inherited syndrome. For years I battled it with a round-robin of pills, but stopped taking them six months ago at the request of Mr. Astor, who thought they were making me crazy. Better to keep the husband than sleep, I thought. But something has happened to my body since then; where we used to down twelve drinks and have a blast, I can't even have a couple of glasses of wine without having to be airlifted home. I have no appetite and eat only because I know I must force something down there. I obsess about everything and I worry that I have lost that old fun self that would lead a bunny hop at the drop of a hanky. I might know more after my doctor's visit on Thursday.
Still, life goes on and there is always something to amuse us out there. Most of us let Daddy go on for a while before we scream.

2011-01-10T15:53:00.002-05:00

Nothing could start off the New Year like a nude picture of Adam Levine. One just wished those overly manicured and painted hands weren't there. Still, there was that, one lucky girl (I presume).

I am making the giant step of seeing a physical therapist this Thursday on the hope that she can sort out the monstrosities in my mind that lend themselves to incessant insomnia , leading into constant fights with Mr. Astor (although the dear that he is seems to understand), the drinking problem (that as soon as I stopped, the insomnia returned with a vengeance), and the constant thought that I have no purpose on this earth anymore. We will see what she has to say.

Meanwhile, there is Mr. Levine.

2011-01-09T20:31:00.002-05:00

There is no doubt that my emotional collapse began with with the fact that I had to hold KiKi down while he was put to to death. This changed my life, my relationships, my everything. I couldn't deal with anything. I almost left everything --including Leopoldo---to go with KiKI.

But, I'm back, and Mrs. Stuyvsent-Fish--YOU are NOT taking over control of this town! As young as she pretends too be, I will out-last her. Of course, I love her more than life, itself.

Posting will continue.

2011-01-05T21:39:00.002-05:00

Well, the only thing Mrs. Styuvesent-Fish could do upon arriving back to the city was to invite Mrs. Astor over for what was billed as a "White Woman's Lunch". And she didn't fail. We started with a Southern Seven Leveled Salad, followed by a lovely salmon and sweet potato entree. It is difficult to remember the dessert, given all the wine forced down me, but it had something to do with dark chocolate. It was as decadent as she leads her life; but, who am I to judge?

2011-01-04T12:31:00.003-05:00

Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish has finally returned to Miami. Rumors that she was in rehab or locked up in a loony bin in Nashville have been greatly exaggerated. It was a little of both, plus she was taken away from me at a time of great weakness so that she couldn't continue her bad, bad influences. I am now a changed person; still in power at the head of Society, but less likely to fall down a flight of stairs. Now, I am not at all suggesting that Mamie "pushed" me down those stairs, but her constant urging that I slide down the banister with a martini in hand didn't help.

We both took the month to not become sober, but to take life on with a more sober approach. We both probably saved ourselves from certain doom. We are to meet today for small libations at Twist. It is now in God's hands.

2010-12-30T18:39:00.002-05:00

I know the rest of the country has been hell frozen over, but we--delicate people--are not used to anything more than one day or two of frigid weather. So when we endured nearly ten days of absolutely unusually cold weather, the town nearly came to a halt. We all love to run to the fur vaults one or twice a winter, or bring out the leather, but nothing in the fourteen years I've lived here was like this. Most of the town's homes and apartments don't have heat, or at least not usable heat (so unused, you really can't stand the smell of burnt dust, so you hope that tomorrow it will be over). But, it wasn't; towards the end I was wearing sweat pants and a sweater over my flannel PJ's, and it still wasn't enough. Business froze as people huddled at home. Fortunately , things warmed up a bit today and the weekend promises temps near eighty. Good for us; it has been a tough year and a New Years in the upper seventies might be the harbinger of better times.

2010-12-28T21:00:00.001-05:00

There nothing that makes me happier than this

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJmsoWt-KEc

2010-12-26T09:03:00.004-05:00

This is Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish walking with me to Twist. Or, maybe she was walking me to a a cab. Who knows? I am the one in black (she's always been a "little" larger)

2010-12-17T20:59:00.002-05:00

Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish--the legionary member of New Port and Miami Beach Society--has been reduced to reading Minnie Pearl cook books to make the time go by before her return to the debauchery of South Beach. Somehow, I see it working.

2010-12-17T16:14:00.004-05:00

Everyone in the world--as described as South Beach Society--knows that Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish and me have been jockeying for Society, Latino boys, the rights to all the books of Good Manners. There are other things, too; but decent society wouldn't discuss them. Non-the-less, I --in a moment of extreme weakness--told Mamie that I missed her greatly, because she is a great person....period. I don't miss many people. She asked for me to send the The Twist Harrier Jet to save her from Nashville. I tried to oblige, but the jet was already being sent to rescue Pia
Zadora to perform for a special tribute to the great things I have done for South Beach Society;
MEANWHILE, she described me as the "Zeppelin of Society" in her absence . The NERVE. (but her IS and engaging photo of me entering New York).

2010-12-16T16:30:00.012-05:00

I don't know why I get so moody that I don't post. I have a great job that I love and work with fun people, I have a boyfriend--who for the ups and downs--has been supportive and handsome, and I have the best friends and connections in The City. I don't know, but I trance off some time into this universe of confusion. Anyway, here is The White Party.
Henrietta, The Queen of South Beach in the limo she rented to bring a gaggle of us fags down to Vizcaya for the last White Party event there.
And what event would be complete without the attendance and support of the Mayor of Miami Beach, Matti Bower.
Don't think there was NO color at The White Party...on the contrary.
We know these gentlemen very well; they are conservative international businessmen. But look at what White Party does to people....
...and more outrageous.
A sea of white-dressed men.
Not that original, but always amusing.
Ahhh....the silly and preposterous. There's always room for them in my chateau.
But, the winner of The Most Frivolous Outfit Award goes to her.
In the end, it was my two, favorite people who I will remember forever as being always there when there was fun to be had, or trouble that needed to be coped with. They are friends.

2010-12-01T18:03:00.002-05:00

To the great relief of some and the consternation of many others, The Baroness Seitzinger's foot was NOT amputated after her accident. Just one shoe was stolen in the EMR. An immediate demand is made for the return for this shoe, and--just in case there was any doubt--there are no negotiations with shoe terrorists. Either return the shoe, or face the entire resources of a bankrupt city to find it or....pay a handsome ransom for the match, and we will call it even.

2010-11-30T15:35:00.003-05:00

Hold the presses! The Baroness Seitzinger has been involved in a most tragic accident. Apparently, she was taking her refuse down her back stairs (alas, we have all had to give up help in this economy). Almost down, she ran into a huge, Gila Monster (actually a two inch lizard), startled herself, and twisted her ankle. Tragically, gangrene set it and her foot has reportedly (by Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish) to have been amputated. Equally tragic, she has had to be scratched off of my up-coming Society Quadrille for The Poor. I don't know....can I start a stubbed Quadrille?
No one knows what happened to this shoe in the emergency room. If found, please let us know (or pay for the match).

A coded note from her hospital room reported the treatment she has received from her unofficial caretaker, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish: "Nurse Ratched desires order, and she wants complete power, so she manipulates her patients and the staff to do fulfill her desires. As the head nurse and as a woman with many connections both inside and outside of the hospital, she is able to maneuver things so that most situations fit her expectations. If she needs to, she uses the force of her hatred to get things done. Though she smiles a lot and talks sweetly, she’s definitely not a kind or charming woman. She is, however, a woman with strong will and a fanaticism for control. She pursues power with intensity and is very successful at getting people to do what she wants."

2010-11-29T20:07:00.003-05:00

Once again, we had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner made up of family and friends, perhaps the best combination of all. We all ate too much, and--after a short nap--I took Henrietta out for a Thanksgiving night on the town.

2010-11-21T12:00:00.002-05:00

I really never understood why The Baroness Seitzinger decided to vacation in Las Vegas. I actually like the city inasmuch as it has an "anything goes" attitude much in the same way Miami Beach does. However, it IS in the desert and no beach to be found; although I don't like sand,I have always lived within sight of the Atlantic Ocean. The Baroness is going on and on about her visit; you'd think it was a Papal trip of some sort. I don't even know that she gambles (at least in respect to a table or a slot machine). Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish wants to call Homeland Security to stop her non-ending photo texts.

Somehow, Seitzinger got a little girl to help her with the luggage (she kept the jewel box close to her bosom). In Miami, only Latino boys help you with whatever you need.

Meanwhile, Officer Brian made one of his usual, unannounced visits yesterday. I blame him for keeping me out so late, although the go-go boys shared some of that blame.

2010-11-18T19:53:00.004-05:00

The glorious, Henritta, took use out to dinner at the best Chinese restaurant in town, Miss Yip. I wonder what it is like to not be able to go out to dinner at a moment's notice. The coming government of the the Republican majority of The House is only tempered by the fact that the Grand Old Party has it's neck chocked by The Tea Baggers; watch as they cave in and--and in my opinion become the modern version of the Whig Party, a group that became out of touch so much that they simply disappeared. Mob rule is next, but as long as you have furs, jewels, and style, you will survive the bayonets long after everyone else. You might even be able to bribe yourself out of it all all and re-invent yourself and your "party". In this town, everything is about a "party".

2010-11-18T11:31:00.003-05:00

At long last there have been more arrests in the Madoff swindle of the century, this time of "back office" people. Nobody in their right mind ever thought Bernie did it all himself; to this day I don't know why his sons aren't in a cell, too. And, I'add the wife and a whole lot more of the "back office"--and the front one, too.

But what bothers me the most is that one of the recently arrested, pictured here, was Annette Bongiorno, who--after making a huge salary doing what she obviously did best (bilk), cashed in a $900,000 investment with Madoff for $14,000,000 soon before the house of cards came down Is that what bothers me? No. Look at her. You'd think that $14,000,000 could make you look better that a kindergarten teacher in a trailer park. Why, she makes Linda Tripp look like Pamela Anderson. There are many things wrong with these people, but not to look good is inexcusable.

2010-11-15T20:49:00.002-05:00

We just rolled in from a dinner with Henrietta at Miss Yip's, probably the most elegant, satisfying Chinese restaurant on Lincoln Road, this in a town where good Asian and Indian restaurants are at a premium. How the three of us ate enough into the the three figure realm is a mystery (since none of us drank alcohol, and I can't, anyway). Still, it was wonderful.
In the meantime, Leopoldo and I went to Twist on Sunday night. It was not the usual night out at Twist; I can't drink so we had to improvise. After wandering around and greeting all the bartenders, we sat ourselves down at Frankie's Bar One and decided to watch what ebbed in and out. It was a freak show of the highest order. Maybe because I was always moving around or taking care of Henrietta, but we never really noted the high level of madness that entered the club, took a walk around, and then found their base of operation. We didn't stay long, given my delicate nature, but---wow---I never saw so may interesting people outside of a carnival side show.

2010-11-13T20:57:00.004-05:00

My doctors have been besides themselves about how fast I have been healing from that nasty operation one week ago tonight. Not the least of the admirers have been my daily nurses, Diana and Ernesto, who show up every afternoon at four to do their thing. They are both delightful and full of fun--something you don't expect from such a situation. I have to admit that I am partial to the the tender, young fingers of Ernesto (Diana understands, and amusingly steps aside).
Of course, it takes a lot to keep me down on the farm, and I went out looking for Bob and Terry and ran into Giorgio and his pack of friends, long poolside friends.
All roads lead to the enticing, alluring Giorgio, as they always did. He's a good sport about all the kidding. Far more intelligent than even beautiful, he is always a pleasure to be in his company.
Naturally, more roads lead to the pool, and more and more party monsters started to gather before I--given my delicate health--excused myself in order to not only remove myself from the debauchery that may ensue, but to cook dinner for Mr. Astor who arrives home late from work tonight.

It's good to be alive (or at least to Twist for a late night appearance).

2010-11-12T20:45:00.003-05:00

I try not to get political; it is so useless, like having the back wheels of the Cadillac of your mind on cinder blocks and pressing on the accelerator and going no where. But.....yesterday's snub of President Obama by South Korea makes my mind dizzy. Where do they think they came from, even exist? My solution: Withdraw all troops tomorrow and save all that money, leaving them to the devices of my favorite....
...Uncle Kim. Wouldn't they just love that. The withdrawal from South Korea could be followed by the bloody withdrawal from everywhere. Why are we paying for nothing?

2010-11-10T03:56:00.004-05:00

What a strange ten days. During Halloween weekend, I felt a little weak--a not unusual thing--with a slight irritation on side. I had treated this abrasion with Neosporyn and carried on until Monday, when I came down with a fever and took to bed. Meanwhile the irritation had grown. Two days of fever, no appetite, and no sleep took the wind out of me. When I came to my senses on Thursday, the irritation had grown to the size of a baseball of fluid under my skin, was extremely painful, and produced a reddened line that stretch from the belly button to the middle of the back. The mound of fluid made it painful to move, cough, or sleep. By the time I went to a local doctor's office, I was told that my vitals were fine, but that I had an enormous abcess for which they could do nothing. I went home, packed my bags and paperwork, went into the office for a few, painful hours on Saturday, and check myself into the best hospital in town. The doctors were amazed that such a thing had grown so quickly, and I immediately became the oddity of the hospital as every doctor had to come and bring a student to see this.

By this time, I was in too much pain to care. I had had the time to make final arrangements and was rather content that it was in the hands of a power greater than mine and that I would be playing with KiKi soon. Within a few hours of prep and interviews, the operation proceeded at midnight. It entailed a five inch slit, one inch deep for which I was awake for (albeit they have gave me twelve doses of morphine). For three days I endured countless tests to rule out this or that; during this time my temperature and blood pressure were supremely normal, thank God. The stay was not unpleasant; I had my own, private room, the staff was extremely friendly,the food good, and the male nurses to die for.

In the end, they found nothing but that I had picked up an every-day, common staph infection that exists on all surfaces, including the skin. I was told you don't need an open wound for it to enter; it can do that through a hair follicle. Scary. I've always been a little nutty about touching things, especially doorknobs. I was told another person's sweat is your death certificate.

I always carry Purell with me, but am going to add a host of new germ-fighting products to my carry bag. (I've thought for a long time that the re-introduction of the wearing of elegant gloves by both gentlemen and ladies is a look long in coming back in this age of germophobia.)I girl can't be too careful. And a word to the wise: Take precaution: you don't want to go through the pain I just did for someone else's sweat.

I live to roam the earth.

2010-11-03T20:44:00.003-04:00

I think the Leather Man was taking this photo, but we had a blast entertaining the crowd.
Of course, no one entertained better than The Indian. There were so many hands on him and down his loin cloth that I just gave up.
My tool belt contained the tools of my trade: a dildo, poppers, lubes, and Xanax. It was a crowd please, too. I've spent three days in bed recovering from that weekend.

2010-11-01T14:05:00.010-04:00

We started out with the traditional dinner on Lincoln Road with the girls. My little Indian was so hot that I had to carry a tazer in my tool belt.
The shocker of the evening was the appearance of the West Virginia relatives of Mr. Stuyvesant-Fish and the Wilmerdings. They kept pestering for drink tickets and attention. Their trailer must have been parked nearby as they kept disappearing for a "refresher". Needless to say, they never got fresher. It was ghastly, simply ghastly.
And, we all knew this must be a very distant relation to Mamie as the real one would never put white cock to her delicate lips.
Our cute little Nathan did his nerd/superhero routine for us.
Hey, there! Oh, I guess it's OK for the Leather Man to handle the merchandise. When you have that much inventory, you have to move it. I am the one who has put up with this each morning.
Contrary to all belief, we didn't over-drink, left together, and engaged in some wild costumed sex (at home this time).

2010-10-28T18:37:00.002-04:00

Everyone who received this image assumed this was just a typical photo taken on a Saturday night in the back yard. It is actually the first stage of the grandiose Halloween party, Sunday night at Twist. Why do people always think the worst?

2010-10-27T13:30:00.003-04:00

To say that the crowd attending Cazwell's show at Edison Farrrow's new party, Lux, is an understatement. They were rabid, and no one was foaming at the mouth more than me. When Geronimo, here in the background started to drop his boxers, I thought the crowed was going to charge the stage. I would have been the first zombie to take a bite. But all fun has its costs and staying out too late has taken me days to recover. It's an odd fact: the more you work in the night life industry, the more you shy away from going out at night.
Edison and Tomas Barker at brunch Sunday afternoon; that's Geronimo front and center.

The next big worry is the coming weekend, which will be three nights of outrageous partying. We have a group of us going as The Village People on Sunday. It is going to be a very dangerous weekend, and I have promised Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish to maintain control over the weekend's activities.

2010-10-24T17:09:00.002-04:00

The whole town is twisted about Cazwell's appearance at Edison's party tonight. Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish is pulling out her Cadillac for the event in the hope that she will get closer to the dancers than I am assured of. Silly old woman! I am going to be right up there with those Latino hotties, and Mr. Astor has given me the pass to do it.

2010-10-24T14:37:00.002-04:00

It's been a long, long time since I've been so excited. Edison Farrow is bringing in Cazwell and his dancers to the old Liquid space now named Lux. He has graciously given us VIP status, which--I assume--will let me close enough to lick the sweat from Cazwell's dancer's bodies. Mr. Astor assures me that this is totally appropriate under the current economic climate, and I will wear eighteen button white gloves to assure Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish that a level of propriety is maintained. My tongue, however, is off limits to Society tonight.

2010-10-21T17:06:00.009-04:00

Where does the time go when you are the victim of bad behavior. I had warned my housemates and their guests that the Road To Ruin was a super highway, but they did not listen to me.
The Lipstick Lesbians were--in my opinion--the driving factor in all that went down.
Despite my constant warnings to "behave", they demonstrated a marked disregard for anything of the sort.
Things rapidly degraded.
And, they didn't stop there.
Even my own baby joined in on the bacchanal; I had no leverage any longer.
Somehow, they even managed a type of chorus line. Oh, the shame.....

2010-10-05T20:43:00.004-04:00

On Sunday we continued our binge of partying by bringing out Henrietta to Ocean Drive where there are always afternoon drag queens waiting to be adored.
They love to perform on the sidewalk for the enjoyment of the lucky tourists who pass by.
We ran into few old friends, but did see our boy, Dario, from South Africa.
On Sundays, like most other days, all roads lead to Twist; we ended up there for its 6 PM BBQ with Susie. Doctors Brad and George joined us for a night in which we were truly obnoxious; it was so much fun. Terry The Terrible arrived today to officially start "season". This truly scares me as I barely survived last winter's version of fun. Still, we seemed to dodge the hurricane bullet again this year, which gives us all reason for confidence we can survive anything. It is called a Fool's Paradise.

2010-10-03T13:45:00.006-04:00

We joined the circuit of partying again last night. When you work for these clubs, there is an odd feeling to avoid them at night. That, of course, is impossible and you have to balance it all. Staying home all the time is not an option in this town.
Alex is our favorite, Russian bartender at Score. He's got a body you could feast off of.
Glamorous celebrities lined up for a photo with The Queen of South Beach.
A quick touch up and off we were to Twist. It was 1 AM and I was feeling a little tired already (I don't think I'm up for this anymore. But you have to be a trooper.)
All roads lead to the go-go boy bungalow bar...and-of course--to bartender Erik.

Keys Trip 2

2010-09-25T18:56:00.014-04:00

Half way down we stopped at a fishing and tackle shop (really a mall). Outside gracious cranes or egrets roamed around...
...and five foot long fish swam nearby. I got dizzy walking out on the long docks and we went into the shop.
Inside that enormous tackle shop was Ernest Hemingway's boat, El Pilar, which he used in Cuba.
We toured the inside...
...and even played with his old typewriter.
As I mention earlier, there was to be a terrifying trip the first night--the night I thought I would be bar-hopping in Key West. Susie wanted to take us on a tour and we went, first, to Big Pine Key; deer walk all around, I guess knowing they are a protected species. They have no fear of humans.
Scary. To me a wild deer is as endearing as a giant tarantula.
But Bambi was just looking for a juicy piece of romaine lettuce, probably a distinct treat considering the dry leaves she usually lives on.
Then we went of No Name Key. The residents have been arguing with each other for years about whether to have electricity brought to the island (electricity equals development). So they live a life of noisy, gas generators. Things like this flip me out. Susie then brought us to The No Name Pub (really on Big Pine Key, so there was electricity). Yet another kooky place I felt like a fish out of water in.
The inside is plastered with dollar bills left over the decades by customers. The bills hang from the ceiling and act as wallpaper, too. Anywhere else, this would be considered a fire hazard, a thought that never left my mind as I kept an eye on where the exit was.
We, of course, had to staple ours to the wall, too.
Hanging things in the Keys from the ceiling is rather common. In Key West we found a bar hanging license plates, bras, and business cards.
But, there were many precious buildings in Key West, like The Strand. How all these wood structures have survived the many decades of hurricanes amazed me.

In any event, I finally understood The Keys by the time we left and look forward to the next trip (especially since Palmer's gave us a free night on our next visit). That is something I definitely understand.

2010-09-22T19:07:00.013-04:00

We arrived back from The Keys today. Although I am not given to impetuous behavior, Susie's suggestion that we just take off on the trip sounded like a good idea. You also have to imagine something: anyone who gets a nosebleed just crossing the causeway to the mainland must be temporarily insane to agree to travel three hours in the back of a Volkswagen Beetle. Although I originally thought we would travel directly to Key West, Susie had, instead, made reservations at Palmer's Resort Lagoon on Little Torch Key thirty miles north. I don't like rural or backwater places, and this was one of those. It was a quiet hamlet of vacation homes, fishermen, and trailer parks.
Palmer's was a compound of quaint, tidy cottages on a lagoon of the Gulf of Mexico and was filled with people who were suspiciously friendly and greeted you as if they had known you all their life. It was way too quiet for me; on the first afternoon--while the gang was smoking pot, drinking beer, and frolicking in the pool--I holed myself up in our cottage and watched Law and Order (wondering why I had not brought some Xanax). The panic attack eventually faded away and we went on a disturbing adventure that I will post later about.
On the second day, we finally made it to Key West. It is much more to my liking: a town of kooks, tourists, and drag queens. One of my favorite buildings there is the "southernmost house" in the United States, the 1897 mansion built by Judge Vinning Harris for his wife; it originally only had one, very large bedroom so they did not have to deal with guests. It is at Southermost Point, the tip of Key West that is closer to Havana than Miami.

There is also the magnificent Episcopal Church, first built in 1837 and rebuilt after the 1909 Hurricane.
We had a glorious lunch at Alonzo's Oyster Bar...
...and made our way to The Bourban Pub on Duvall Street, where I truly was back in my element.
On our way to Mallory Square to paid homage to good and bad, and then good again, times.
The sunset in Key West is one of the greatest tourist attractions and the crowd claps when it gently sets.
This morning I left Mr. Astor in bed and left the cottage at seven AM to go down to Honeymoon Point...
...to sit in one of those chairs and watch the sun rise. It turned out to be a lovely, impetuous vacation.

2010-09-20T02:32:00.006-04:00

The wonderful, spectacular dinner party for Larry's birthday party was the talk of the town. It is so soothing to know that there is still enough people who can rent an entire restaurant for the benefit of a group of friends; Larry and David have done this several times. Their dog, Spike, always rules from a seat of power. The night was wonderful, especially if you considered that the thirty people invited started to snarl and bite each other at the very start. Mamie and me kept a civil distance from the fray and laughed constantly at what we observed. We were, of course, a bit snobby, but were not going to embroil ourselves in anything that didn't come out of the kitchen.
Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish and myself maintained an aloof table open to only members of Newport Society. We know this was wrong, but the facts of the evening proved that it is better to associate with whom you know at dinner and death, than to fend off others with a butter knife during the same time.
Striped are the rage as noted with me and Kendall.
If "Incest" was ever to have a face, this would be it. Our beloved friends at this table sort of live a reality, gay life-style that is the envy of all we know.
Shortly before the poisoned hat-pins and stilettos were pulled out, a nice group picture was taken. Many had fled by this time, but Mamie and I just laughed and laughed all night as the casualty list mounted before our eyes.

2010-09-18T21:06:00.005-04:00

We decided to take Henrietta out on a afternoon, Sunday adventure and ran into Ditmar and Ricky. They live in Fort Lauderdale now, and--not driving--can seldom get there.
I can't remember their names, but they were delightful; I spent a greater part of the afternoon wondering just which one for more girlish. I vote for the one on the right.

And, what a pleasure it was to run into my nephew, Jesse; we have not seen each other for two years and he once was one of the foundations of The Gay Seventh Calvary. It makes you wonder why you fall out of touch with such friends, but this a town of such distraction.
At the end of the day, we came home, threw our Diesel bags on the day bed in the living room and drifted into the well-known world of passing out.

Now, after a grand birthday dinner for Larry W., we are getting ready to attend to the other distractions of Twist, a place that has no limits in that category.

In the meantime, view this gem: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9WZGyzz5O-U