Just Got In On The Red Eye, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Took myself and my BEAUTIFUL Oscar De La Renta gown to the Oscars that night. Things were bad enough, with me having to go unescorted--I didn't call Stanley in time, I guess--but they only got worse when the entire world witnesses the DIVINE MERYL being deprived of what ought to have been HERS. Add to the humiliation that the deprivation was done by Sandra Bullock!!!!!! I mean, Helen Mirren, OK, but Sandra Bullock!!!!! Bullshit, is what I say.

Darlings, if I were Meryl I would say "Fuck you" to Hollywood, come back to this town--New York--and only do stage, where she will be apppreciated by us TRUE ARISTES who LOVE her!!!!!!!!!!

Nevertheless, Meryl and Stanley Tucci were two of the most dashing people there last night. And Stanley cut such an elegant figure in his tux, I just wanted to eat him up, and wouldn't he be as delicious as one of his home-made bruschetta????? Like Meryl, he was a gracious loser, but don't discount Stanley--HIS time is coming!!!!!!!!!

I was so mad I didn't even go to the post Oscar parties--and there were several, darlings--that I was invited to--because I had to fly back to New York to work the graveyard shift tonight (I almost wrote graveyard shit, loves!), which brings me to another thing I need to get off my chest.

Darlings, you would not know it to look at me, but I am in the depths of a major depression. Last night I almost checked myself in. It is all about not having a life partner, and being alone-I am in one of those periods (no not THAT kind of period, darlings!) where I cannot bear being alone. I am ready to bring in anything off the street. Yesterday I was so upset I ended up doing Joan Baez tunes in front of The Center, hoping it would bag me someone! Even a hot cop to haul me off!!! And I did a FABULOUS version of "Long Black Veil." But did anyone notice? Did anyone pay attenttion?

Remember what Linda Loman says at the end of "Death of A Salesman"--attetnion must be paid. Do you know I am actually contemplating Craigslist, which lately does not seem to do anything but get people killed. And even Match.Com!!!!
I don't know, girls, if I do not walk down that ailse soon I am going to....well, who knows? Meanwhile, at least I can still read "The September Society," which is written by Charles Finch who is a pretty cute thing himself (maybe I should phone HIM) and I can bet you anything this is going to have a gay subplot. Apart from MINE, girls!!!!

And another thing--why when meeting someone does it always turn out they have a partner???? Last night, at the Dignity social, after singing my heart out in choir, darlings, I was talking to this rather attractive Irishman named Brian, who seemed very much a possibility, especially when the subject of the ballet came up. I was thinking of asking him to a performance. Before I can he mentions someone in passing where he utters those two dreaded words--"my partner"--which means I have completely wasted my time. Why don't these guys wear a sign around their neck so we who are looking know whom to avoid? I feel like Portia Nelson talking about putting a cow bell around Julie Andrews' neck in "The Sound of Music." Maybe I should go out and governess some children--it worked for her! They better be toilet trained, girls, because I do NOT do diapers!!!!!!!!!

Between the Film Forum, Meryl, and husband unavailability, I am ready to blow a gasket. Hell, I would like to blow something--maybe at this point an inflatable doll! But, no, girls, because then what would you read, or do for fashion and make up advice? So we will keep plugging away, girls, till I am walking down the ailse at The Pierre!

And all you guys with partners don't know what you are missing!!!!!!!!!