Girls, Let's ALL Be The New Year's Baby!!!!!!!!

Girls, we just wanna stay young, and there is no better time to acknowledge this than on New Years Eve when the clock strikes midnight and we pop out naked as the New Year's Baby. Let's face it, who the hell wants to see Old Man Time naked????? If you were Old Man Time--which none of us reading this are, dear--would you want to be seen naked? Would you even want to see yourself naked???? Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But a bouncy naked New Year's Baby can be loved by all, so darlings start 2008 right by parading naked in your living room and celebrating your emancipation of eternal youth!!! Because no matter what the New Year holds it has to start right!!!!!!

So let's all make an agreement, girls, this year we are ALL going to be the New Year's Baby!!!!!!!

Darlings, We LOVE Mother Ginger!!!!!!

There is nothing quite like Mother Ginger and Her Polshinelles. And they were on display last night at the NYC Ballet's 2000th performance of "The Nutcracker" since my birth year 1954. Girls, I am telling you, there is nothing like it. To float off on a bed of dreams after your Christmas tree has grown to size, to dance with a nutcracker who turns into a handsome prince!
Girls, I want to be carried off to the Land of Sweets where my Nutcracker turns into a handsome prince named Jake Gyllenhaal. MMMMMMMM!!!!!! Nothing swetter than that, darlings!

Christmas, New York, "The Nutcracker." Without, each would be inconceivable.

Have a lovely holiday, darlings, and may all your sweets be under the tree!!!!!!

Girls, What Is The Deal With Briony?????

Girls, we are so psyched for the opening of "Atonement" tomorrow, and darlings I am SO Briony! A country estate, social and sexual scandal, class difference--this story has everything that presses MY buttons, girls; they are popping off my blouse so fast in anticipation, girls, I will have to take them to the tailor.

People are getting all worked up over Briony; they practically want to burn her at the stake!!!!
Darlings, how many of us would not do the same thing in her position. And for that matter, Robbie was not SO innocent. A person of the lower social order--the housekeeper's son, for Heaven's sake--and here he is trying to infiltrate himself into their world by sexually absconding with Cecilia. THIS, after the Tallises paid for his education!!!!!

Darlings, in my world it is just NOT done. This would have been like if back in Highland Park one of the denizens from Goat Alley had tried to work their way onto the North Side. If Briony had been acting for these reasons, I would have cheered her on, but the rest of "Atonement" does not support this. Briony acts the way she did out of youthful indiscretion, and who, with the exception of moi, is NOT guilty of that? But the way people cry "poor Robbie!" He was an opportunisitc upstart who knew what he was doing when he set out to conquer Cecilia. He was not just trying to buy her affections, he was trying to buy himself into her world....a crime for which I can NOT forgive him!

Girls, I cannot wait. Have you seen Keira in the green gown??? I want to wear it!!! I should look so good on my BEST day. Sweeties, after a screening of "Atonement," we should all fly
British airways to London, shop at Harrods, buys books at Hinscher's, have tea at Brown's and dinner at Simpson's!!!!!

See you at the movies, girls!!!!!!

Girls, We Are All On A Voyage Of Literary Discovery!

Girls, such news!!! Today the NYTimes realeased its ten best books list of 2007 and I am telling you such surprises. Now I can't for the life of me what was on the non-fiction list--something about Iraq, I think--but I can tell you what the fiction picks were--

1.Man Gone Down by Michael Thomas
2.Out Stealing Horses
3.The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano
4.Then We Came To The End by Joshua Ferris
5.Tree of Smoke by Denis Johnson

I mean, who ever heard of the first two titles? But, girls, if the Times says it is, it is, and so we will read them. The Johnson book won the National Book Award which makes sense, and the Joshua Ferris novel, while good is simply this year's Flavor Of The Month--the young writer the critics like to tout as a Voice each year; the Times has been doing this since 1972 with Joyce Maynard (groan!) and Ferris is this year's choice. He is a better writer than Joyce--so would b monkey be--but his novel did not smack to me of awards calibre. But then no one important listens to my voice, darling, except when it comes to blow jobs, which is why I have this blog, where I can reign supreme!!!!

Sweethearts, we have lots of reading to do over the holiday season if we are going to make 100 books read--I am only up to 88 at this point--so I must do some reading. And as for my friend Vincent who poohs poohs my fiction out of envy--darling I am on a voyage of literary discovery.

So get on the boat, girls and start traveling. Meanwhile I am going to curl up with "The Meaning of Night" by Michael Cox--a surprise delight for those of us who love excursions into Victorianna!

Happy Reading, Girls!!!!

Girls, I Can't Help It If I Am SO Fabulous!!!!!!

"Little brat!
That's what my sister was, a little brat!
And that's why I shaved her head,
I'm glad I shaved her head!"
--Patricia Garland as Judy Turner in "A Chorus Line" (1975)


Girls, how can I convey to you what my week has been like. Everything from a weekend baby christening with the most behaved infant in the world contrasted by the brattiest male toddler this side of Damien The Omen, a birthday celebration, family drama with potential trips to the hospital and health spills....and then you wonder why I am exhausted??? And then to hear all
the Christmas classics ALREADY!!!! It is just too soon!

But Thanksgiving was perfectly low key, with companionship, a lovely movie--Disney's "Enchanted" where Susan Sarandon plays the Wicked Queen all us gay men dream of being, and a lovely dinner at a lovely restaurant. Yes girls the silent movie portion of 2007 is in full gear, which means that from now till things come to a screeching halt on January 2 we are on the go--shopping, socials, drinks, edibles, parties parties parties....it is enough to give one pause.

And then the Sam episode on "Cold Case." Girls, I am telling you it is what could have happened to me in adolescence had I acted up. Instead I nurtured decades of bitterness and resentment that I am only beginning to work out now. Makes me want to investigate "Boys Don't Cry" again, or at least "Children of the Corn," where I would have loved to chop up some of the adults in my home town, especially the trash denizens of Goat Alley and Mrs. Santamarina. If she is still alive I hope she chokes!!!!!

Girls, I am such a Holiday Bitch! But it is all in the name of love and compassion and the milk of human kindness just flows in my veins! You are all so cute, my darlings! Stay tuned to this blog for a complete account of ther 2007 Holiday Season--the only truthful and accurate one out there!

Or else I will force feed you all unsweetned oatmeal, like Tallulah Bankhead in "Die! Die! My Darling!"

Girls, We Have So Many Exciting Career Options!

Teacher. Prostitute. Nurse. Secretary. Librarian. (Wait, don't let's go THERE! Don't even get me started!)

But there are two I want to call attention to for all my darlings--cocktail hostess and hat check girl!

You get to wear a strapped gown showing bare arms and cleavage, your make up done to perfection which you have learned since the days of yore at your Buddy Beauty Vanity by Marx, and you get to hob nob with shady male characters who will show you a good time! Girls, this is what we have all dreamed of!!!!! I mean, look what being a hat check girl did for Madonna! Forget business exectutive--these are the jobs that propel you to fame!

I want to be a hat check girl, and a dance hall hostess so I can star in my own revival of
"Sweet Charity." Girls, this is the program to get with! We are on the cutting edge!!!!!!

Girls, The Christimas Issue Of Victoria Is On The Stands!!!!

Girls, what is "Victoria.?" It is a magazine devoted to the elegance and style of gracious living. Perfect for all us darlings to curl up with in our flannel nighties and kerchiefs on cold winter nights as we sip tea and read our 19th century novels we keep by our bedside.

Of all the 12 issues the two most romantic and importnat are February and December--ie; Valentine's Day and Christmas. And with the advent of this event the holiday season is drawing near. The Rockefeller Center tree is in place. So is the Lincoln Center tree.

The only hit that comes out of this blog is moi, and that's ME, baby!!!! So get that issue, savor those goodies, light that yule log fire and curl up in an evening chair with the issue of "Victoria."

Girls, it will simply MAKE your holiday!!!!!

Mrs. Voorhees Is Mother Of The Year

"Kill her, Mommy, kill her. Don't let her live.
I won't, Jason, I won't.
Get her, Mommy. Get her. She can't hide. No place to hide.
Kill, her, Mommy! KILL HER!"
---Betsy Palmer as Mrs. Voorhees in "Friday The 13th " (1980)

Darlings, these iconic words just warm the cockles of my girlish heart! A mother who stands up for her child; what could be more tender than that? If only Betsy had said those immortal words live for us all to hear last Saturday. The audience would have gone wild.

You just have to love Mrs. Voorhees. Darlings, such androgyny. You can be sure, girls,
stuck out in isolated Blaristown with that butch hair style and white fisherman's sweater, Mrs. Voorhees has never set a single foot near Lord and Taylor in her life! Let alone Neiman Marcus!

No wonder the woman is enraged--a grief stricken loss of child and no access to proper fashions. If she could just have had a therapist and a makeover none of this would have happened. But aren't we glad it did? How about nubile Annie getting her head chopped off in the woods? Or Marcie being axed in her panties after doing a bad impersonation of Katherine Hepburn in "The Rainmaker?" Why can't some men be murdered in their panties??? I cry out sex discrimination!

But there is no discriminating Mrs. Voorhees as one of filmdom's great icons. Wouldn't it fabuouls and informative to have coffee with her and Mary Jo Buttafucco???? We could all talk about hacking up that rotten little slut, Amy Fishuh--a prostiture and a lyuh, lyuh, lyuh!

Makes me long for a machete, girls! Or at least a Manhattan!!!! So cozy up to your TV set on these cold autumnal nights with "Friday The 13th" and pay homage to Betsy Palmer as Mrs. Voorhees!!!!!!

And give that woman a Prada purse!

Girls, There Is No Underestimating The Value Of A Good Blow Job!!!!!

Darlings, I am appalled at how history has failed to document the importance of this unique act as it relates to the formation of world decisions. From the Declaration of Independence, to the Constitution of the United States, right through to the Clinton administration, it can be said that the world turns not so much on a dime as head and a spoonful of spooge.

Why would I wax rhapsodic about this, girls? Have I recently had an orgasm? One not induced by yours truly? Are you kidding?

Sweethearts, this weekend I had a life altering experience. Saturday I traveled out to famed Blaristown, New Jersey where the original (one and only) 1980 classic "Friday The 13th" was filmed. Not only did we visit all the key locales, we even caught an evening performance of A.R.
Gurney's play "Love Letters," starring "Friday The 13th's" own Mrs. Voorhees, Betsy Palmer!!!!! Betsy was fabulous and after the show the director presented her with a boquet of flowers, stating that November 1 was her birthday and asking us to sing "Happy Birthday." Which we did. Then Betsy did a very gutsy thing. She stepped forward and gave a lovely thank you speech, in which she revealed her true age--81!!!!!! I could not believe it--I thought she was 75 or 77! And MY professional age is STILL 24!!!!!

Earlier that afternooon, we actually drove past Camp No Be Bo Sco, which was used as Camp
Crystal Lake in the film. The gate was open. Dare I go in? You better believe I did, girls, and saw not only the lake and cabins, but...oh it was just too exciting. But when I got to the big cabin, the Camp Office, this Grizzly Adams type guy came out--you know, the kind you usuually see at the Dugout on weekends, and you can bet this guy has probably gone there--to say that while he understood why we were there we could go no further. So we complied. But, girls, I am telling you, if I had just had a couple of minutes alone with this guy and had given him a good blow job, I would have had a personal tour of the camp!!!! Hell, things were so isolated out there, he would have welcomed a blow job, a candy bar, a bottle of wine--anything--and I wouldn't blame him.

My pets, Blairstown is SO quaint and spooky. Picturesque beyond belief with a private school atop a hill, but everything closes down early on the weekend--bookstores shut down at 3, the diner shuts down at 4. By evening the place was dead--I am telling you everyone is afraid of Jason and Mrs. Voorhees!!!!!!

Neverhteless I will not be deterred. Next spring or summer I am returning so I can visit the nearby Land of Make Believe attraction, and then I am going to go back to that camp and service that ranger to get that tour I should have had in the first place, darlings!

They say in Hollywood Edith Head gave good costume. But what if you just give good head?

Think on that one, Girls!!!!!!!!

Girls, We Just Love Lucy and Lucia!!!!!!!

Now, I am not talking about Lucille Ball, darlings, though of course we love her. I am talking of course about Lucy Hardin, that good time gal with bad breaks immortalized by Joan Crawford in the 1964 classic "Strait-Jacket." Sweeties, there in NOTHING straight about this movie except a hunky uncredited Lee Majors and Carol's fiance. But more on him later.

Lucy just can't get a break. After hacking her two timing hubby and his mistress to death with an ax, putting in 20 years time at an asylum--read, running the Pepsi Cola company--Lucy is set free only to find someone out there is tryng to "gaslight" her--pinning murders on her to make her look bad. Poor Lucy! You just gotta feel sorry for Joan; it is one of her more sympathetic roles. Especially when like all us girls she dons that trampy 40s regailia strutting through town trying to look 30 when she is well past 60. And how those braclets jangle!!!! Then there is her daughter Carol, brilliantly played by Diane Baker, a Miss Butter Would Not Melt In Her Mouth type, and the most duplicitous social climbing bitch this side of Miss Veda Pierece. In fact I think she is worse than Veda; at least with her you know what you are dealing with, unlike Miss Carol who pulls the wool over everyone's eyes. And her wholesome act is so cloying no wonder her horny fiance, on first glancing Joan, wants to bang the old broad? Who could blame him, with Diane Baker looking so tight and repressed her legs are probably clamped shut for good!!! You know mine aren't, darlings!

I am telling you everyone in this film is a fucking bitch! Rochelle Hudson as Emily has ice in her veins and social contempt a plenty. The first time I saw this film I was convinced she was doing the murders. And how about Edith Atwater as Mrs. Field, Michael's Oedipal mother. That is one cold bitch; what with dueling psychos going at in her master bedroom, and she just calmly phones the police with all the calmness of a pizza order!!!! This broad is more ready for the canners than Joan; too bad she did not get axed!!!!!

But in the end Lucy triumphs and we love her!

Then there is that other Lucy--Lucia!!!! I am talking of course about "Lucia di Lammermoor," the fabulously produced Donizetti opera at the Met. This could have been written for me, girls--
a crazed hysteric abused by men who kills her husband on her wedding day, descends a grand staricase in a fashionably bloodied wedding gown, then sings herself into insanity, drops dead and dies. Only to come back from the grave and drive Edgardo, her true love, to suicide!

Darlings, I love Lucia. This is like a typical day in my life! And I am telling you, those vicious opera queens. I mean, at the Act Two intermission, I am in the bathroom doing what we girls have to do, and these two queens are at adjoining urinals discussing vocal subtleties while checking each others' members out! Honey, the only members the Met is interested in are its wealthy subscribers. If this is what you are after, head south of 14th Street. Or the East Village. Slap these opera queens silly!!!!!

But girls a night on the town with Lucia and Joan is enough to do even the most vigorous of queens in. So tonight it is time to put my feet up on the ottoman and curl my toes while applying shocking pink nail polish. Gotta get ready for my next big night out--whenever that may be!

Ta ta, girls!

Girls, We Butterflies Flit From Stem To Stem!!!!!

Social butterflies, that is! I am telling you, girls, how is one to keep up with oneself in one weekend? Where is the chance to rest? Even God gave Himself that! Between coffee, dinner and "The Apartment" with Vincent, work on Saturday followed by dinner with Tom across the river in Newark, NJ yet! and Sunday with Danny watching "Serial Mom", dining at the Telephone Bar and Grill in the distant (for me) East Village, then dashing over West to Dignity to do my choral/ spritual stint, darlings I need a day off just from my weekend?

I bet Donna McKechnie rests! I bet Sammy Williams rest! And you know they dance full out every day!

Meanwhile my legs get tighter from all this dance, barre and Yoga work. Now if only there were a man to wrap them around! Sigh!

I am running SO low on moisturizer, I have to remind myself to go to the store and get home. One more year of life means one more layer to slather on. You think it is easy maintaining oneself in a youth dominated society, even if I AM an ingenue, even IF my professional age is 24!!!

Is it any wonder Monday has been recounted negatively in songs like "Rainy Days and Mondays," and even the more perky "Monday, Monday?" "Can't trust that day" darlings!
John Phillips was damn right, even if I did have more of the hots for Denny. And have you seen Denny lately? He looks like some big old bear who you see Sundays in New York at the Dugout!!!!

Darlings, why should I be seen there when there is much more elegant stuff at the Metropolitan Museum of Art!!! Just call me Holly Golightly!

Have we had our breakfast at Tiffany's, yet, darlings??? Have a fabulous day, my pets!!!!
And get those nails done!!!!!

Girls, We Are Such Excellent Role Models!!!!

Ever since our anointment years before by St. Elizabeth of Taylor, we have become the arbiters for taste in our society. And why not? We know best what should be eaten, worn, seen, read and consorted with for the asking. Do you think any of us need astrologers or columnists like Cindy Adams or Liz "bulldyke" Smith to tell US what to do? Not so my sweets! We are Masters of Our Own Domain and that means everything that phrase applies. So is it any wonder the unenlightened come to us for enlightment? Sweeties, when those less knowledgeable appeal to my more brilliant sensibilities I just look at them compassionately and address them with the facts as though they were Homer Simpson sitting in front of his television set. Which in some cases they are.

Let's face it, girls, most of us consciously fled a Homer Simpson television based situation based on our early upbringings. We fled from the land of child molested milk cartons to the land of flowered chintz!!!!

Girls, I want you to go home tonight and think to yourselves about expanding possibilities. And no I am NOT talking about your waist and girdle size. They are big enough already. Look at your world situation as one to be dealt with exclusively by rouge or mascara. Even some Maybelline lip gloss. Darlings, if my lips are not succulent when I leave the house in the morning, I might just as well be naked!

So get a good night sleep, put that cold cream and face mask over your eyes and shut out the world like Bette Davis as 1930s Baby Jane!!!!!!!!

"Pardon me. Ah'm Miz Brent!"

Sammy, Oh Sammy

Time to get real for just an installment, Girls!

Sometimes the defining moments of one's life are not apparent--at least completely--when they are before you. Case in point takes me back to the afternoon of October 25, 1975, when, with my father, I saw for the first time, a then"new" musical entitled "A Chorus Line" with the now legendary Original Cast.

The critical acumen in me knew I was seeing a classic the instant the lights came up. What I did not realize was I was witnessing something that would come to guide me in the years ahead, particularly in the presences of two "liners" who came to be my angels--Donna McKechnie, whom almost anyone who knows me has heard me waz rhapsodic about for over thirty years.

But few know of my other angel in that show,my hero, Sammy Williams.

Why is Sammy my hero?

Well, for starters we are both Jersey boys--he from Trenton, I from Highland Park. We are both Scorpios and November babies--he the 13th and I the 18th, albeit six years apart--Sammy in 1948, myself in 1954. We both grew up gay in an environment and time that did not promote that and found our respective ways out--Sammy with dance, myself with books and academics.

But it all came together that October afternoon. Watching the show with my father next to me is still one of the more memorable experiences of my life, not only because my father was enormously impressed by what he saw; at 92 he still remembers "A Chorus Line" and Donna McKechnie, but for what he does not know, which is this--that as we were watching it, especially as I was watching Sammy do the Paul monologue--and no one did it better--I kept glancing over at my father, then at Sammy, then at my father, fearful he would detect my secret, which was earlier that same week--October 20, to be exact, while at college, I had had my very first homosexual (altogether sexual, as the notion of women repulsed me) experience.

As the years widened, so too did this memory. And with the years, as I watched Sammy struggle, he, helped me to struggle; at many points when I wanted to give up I would often say, "Sammy would never give up." And he never has, as from what I understand he is bravely attempting to reignite his career.

I always wished I could tell this to Sammy personally. Maybe I am doing so here. How that afternoon, and his presence, helped a tender 20 year old from Jersey face himself. How it ultimately guided me into a musical theater class, culminating in a Master's degree, a job in the arts, and life in New York City. My dream of fame never came true, but with Sammy to inspire me, I have somehow been able to get through whatever low points I have reached.

We the theatergoers owe an enormous debt to "A Chorus Line." In addition I owe an enormous debt to Sammy.

So to Sammy I say--please keep working and struggling so that I can continue to. You are not a quitter and have helped me not to be one and your efforts will pay off. In some distant future perhaps we can cross paths in New York where I can make this all abundantly clear.

But this will have to suffice. For now.

Girls, When You Are So Fabulous.....

.....I'm telling you I just don't know what to do. You think it is easy being this brilliant? I mean I cannot wait to see Jodie kick ass in "The Brave One," and guys had better steer clear of lesbian neighborhoods this weekend!!!! I should have read "Women In Love" for my book group last night, but, honey, I read it last year and life is too short to reread every single book. So I will make a consolidated effort to read the books from now on. I still love the group even if some of the selections, like this graphic novel "FunHouse" are too well not de rigeur.

Darlings, the world has to conform to my tastes or I cannot be bothered. And if you can't well then fuck it!!!! Or more politely stated, go take a hike. Imagine the fun I would have if I were a serial killer. Now who or what would I go after, that would be the interesting part.

Sure wish I could do "Chorus Line." I am determined to dance Cassie! Darlings, we all want to be Cassie!!!!!!

Have a wonderful weekend girls. Dinner and drinks and a bridge club. Just like what we were raised too. Kisses darlings!!!!!

Girls, Is The World Ready For A Concept Musical....

......about Moors murderess Myra Hindley???? Imagine "Myra!" A Magical Musical!
We began with a bare set simulating the deserted Moors, backed up by stage size blow ups of the famous Brady-Hindley mug shots. Myra appears stage center, dressed like the shot but from the waist down as a Nazi domantrix. She introduces her opening number, "Hello, Loves!" and sings about what we are in for. Aftewards her partner, Ian Brady is introduced and they address the audience in a chillingly Burns and Allen manner, as they segue into their number, "We'd Like To Talk To You." From this point time goes back and things drop from above, simulating the atmosphere of a Sixties mod club and recreating their first meeting, with another lovely duet, "What Do I See In You?" Some book scenes show how the relationship evolves and then they take to the road to committ their first dastardly deed in the musical number "Hey, Pauline!"

The show owes a debt to "West Side Story" and "A Chorus Line" as things are enacted representationally via music and dance, with no blood or gore or chilling screams.

Darlings, this could be Broadway's next Tony winner, with the right cast and staging.

See you on the Great White Way, darlings!

Is the world ready to see it? Well, there was "Thrill Me!" As a colleague of mine said, "The world NEEDS to see it!"

Girls. My Girdle Is Killing Me!!!!!

And I am telling you I cannot wait to get home and out of it, as well as my heels, nylons and panties. Why we girls have to dress so much is beyond me; it's not like I am scoring any success points in the world of finance and romance so what the hell gives>

What I am in the mood for is for some certifiable trash, which is why my desperation is driving me to seek out the reamake of "Halloween," which is an insult to the 1978 masterpiece. Maybe more will be revealed about Michael being a murderer of bitch sluts like his sister Judith; he had the right idea, only he was caught!!!!!

Sweeties, do I feel like Miss Bitch! So I am going to tear the town up tonight with guacamole and some Margarittas. On Monday, which is Labor Day, it will be a picnic mornign without a warning and I will feel like Verna Felton as Mrs. Potts when a man walks into her life. And after what I went through three weeks ago nothiing is walking into mine.

But, doll faces, I love you all, so go home get out of those girdles and curl up with a drink and some "My Little Margie DVDs!!!!!

Girls, It's Not Easy Trying To Be Donna McKechnie!

Girls, I am telling you my body is killing me!!!! Yesterday after my Yoga I decided it was time to do some running prior to joining the Front Runners group. This is part of my inner desire to be Donna McKechnie and dance the Cassie number ("The Music and The Mirror") in the red with the skirt, which darling I plan to look so fabulous in. So yesterday I went running. I got two blocks and then I had to switch to walking, and I am still sore and aching today. So guess who is not ready for running??? Let alone a ballet class in Manhattan, maybe in Queens at Woodside Ballet Academy where my not looking like Donna McKechnie in tights won't matter so much.

Sweeties, what am I supposed to do, wear a girdle???? Every time I see "A Chorus Line " some part of me is up there doing it, and damn it I want to do it. Or at least a little of it. But what kind of shape am I in??? Girls, I need to get a new dress or something. I am telling you, what menopause does to you should not happen to anyone. And I am a man so it only makes me more of a bitch! But I love it!! We all love it!!!! And I love you all girls!!!!!

"And I Can........Dance!"

Girls, I've Got To Dance

Let's face it, girls, those of us of a certain age; ie, who saw the original cast of "A Chorus Line" in 1975, have never gotten over our inner desire to be Donna McKechnie!!!! And now that ACL is back on Broadway and as brilliant as ever, that desire is more manifest. But tie those toe shoes and tights and head for the nearest ballet class and barre. We might not be able to dance but it never hurts to be too limber!!!! Just like Donna! After 12-20 minutes of Yoga each morning I sure feel like Donna and am ready to go out and face the world!!!!!!

Move those legs, girls! Strengthen that supporting leg! Turn and pose, darlings! We are going to be SOOOOOO fabulous in our elder ages as we dance the Cassie number in red! Those mirrors will whiz right by. I can't wait to watch myself girls, like alone perform!

The chance..................to dance.....................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, I Am So Superior

You know, I happen to be rereading Meyer Levin's "Compulsion" and while I do not advocate murder, I can identify with the Leopold-Loeb notion of feeling superior to all others. This was set in motion by my parents, with whom I lived on the affluent north side of Highland Park, New Jersey. However, due to a life altering error on their part they forced me to go not to Hamilton on same side where the rich and smart kids like me went, but Irving on the wrong side of the tracks, where kids from Goat Alley, like Linda Johnson, whose mother was a common waitress for God's sake! and Linda Wilson, who was the garbageman's daughter and who did not get fed enough so she thew up in class, and Joan Marcik whose mother dressed her in the same clothes every day went. And THIS was my childhood! It made me know who and what I was superior to , girls, and turned me into the bitch I am today!!!!!!! When I reached seventh grade in the Middle School where I was with my academically able contemporaries I shed these bozos as fast as you please, and I have not looked back since! Or if I do I look back in anger!

I should have gone to private school and Ivy League to have the life I should have had. So I have no choice, girls, but to declare my brilliance and snobbishness to the world, which I am damn proud of!!!!! I never ate at the cheap White Rose in my life; that was where the town trash went, as my parents said. And I would not be seen at Tastee Sub, like it was some kind of fucking Jersey experience you were supposed to have. You can take all the experience in Jersey and shove it up your royal twats, girls!

Aren't I a bitch! I love it!!! And you do too!

Love you all, girls!

Girls. You Won't Believe What I Have Been Through

I am telling you, between my father's stent, my nieces' pregnancy and my sister's problems with her chronically ill husband, it is all I can do to keep from getting dishpan hands. At least at last night's outdoor presentation of "Spartacus," there was some fetching eye candy although the hems on the men's togas should have been raised far above the knees. My friend Justin was adorable in the role of Crixus; too bad he is straight because I would love to get just with Justin!!!! Then there was "Hairspray" wherein John Travolta took all the fun out of a musical role and Chrisopher Walken showed he should do more musically. I finally got a hair appt. but I had to forego David--wah--in favor of Hernandez, or whatever his name was. Not to worry; I look fabulous as usual. Girls girls girls I can't keep up with my life I am just going to have to blog every day--parties, death anniversaries and "The Seventh Victim" tonight all bode for a very interesting August. Now if I can just find a nice Jewish husband so I can get my Tudor house in Great Neck. I stil need therapy, obviously! But I am back, and love you all!!!!

Girls, Can YOU Believe It?

The first half of 2007 is done. As Lena Olin says as Masha in "Enemies:A Love Story"--"After all I have been through, what does it matter?" Well girls it matters that we have to get out there and support our girls in "Evening." Vanessa and Meryl, just think of it! And Patrick Wilson, who is so fine as a sex object--the guy we girls all want, the guy all guys want to be! How great can it get.

Of course I still want to be Donna McKechnie which is why I am doing stretching and Yoga and leg raises to "A Chorus Line" sound track. After about a month I will be ready to leap into the air like Baayork Lee doing "Turkey Lurkey Time" from "Promises, Promises".

It's turkey lurkey time.
Tom Turkey flew away but he just came home.
Turkey Lurkey, Goosey Poosey!

A great niece, a cancer scare, death on all sides--how great can 2007 get. And still I get out of bed. This is a testimony to the power of my survival and brilliance. The milk of human kindness flows in my veins--room enough for all God's creatures--except those who would try and upstage me!!!!!

So congrats on making it through the first half. Everything is beautiful at the ballet, darlings!!!! And isn't the current company of ACL simply FABULOUS???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

The Queen loves you all!!!!!

Dido Dido Didion

My Pets,

I was going to tell you to read Joan Didion's marvelous memoir "The Year of Magical Thinking," the clearest, most truthful assessment of that most painful of life experiences--losing a loved one. What makes the book even more wrenching is its chronicling daughter Quitanna's illness, which we the reader, unlike Joan at that point, know she too will lose. I am telling you, girls, this book gives me new respect for Joan, whose oeuvre I could take or leave. A little Joan always went a LONG way with me, and this book at 227 pgs is a little Joan, but it is succinct and richly textured in ways some of her other works are not.

But then so much has happened--the death of Kitty Carlisle--the end of an era, darlings!--I guess it is going to be up to me to keep the doyennes of New York City society going--a cancer scare from my doctor (I don't believe it!); let me tell you, darlings no one is getting my "Wizard of Oz" or "Song of Bernadette" DVDs just yet; the shootings in Virginia which only demonstrates America's propensity for refusing to learn any cultural lesssons taught it; wasn't Columbine enough, already?; my friend Tom's sensational act at NYC's Standup Comedy Club last night, and a future gig by the woman of my dreams, the legendary Arna Zucker, in Rhode Island on May 12. Darlings, how much more can I stand? When I said 2007 was going to be a year of drama, I was not kidding. And this from a drama queen too!

Not to mention, girls, the autobiography of my role model, Rue McClannahan,
"My First Five Husbands, And The Ones Who Got Away." Rue starts breezily off with "This book is about my life and experience and anyone who does not like it can jolly well lump it!" You tell them, Rue!

Sweeties I just don't know. World events are whirling faster than Courtney Love on speed that I just can't keep up. I need a man to hold me. I need Mel....I mean Ted. Stay tuned for future postings on my fabulous and dramatic life, plus I promise shortly to start posting my fiction.

Love you all, darlings!

How Did We Spend Our Weekend, Girls?

Did we create something? A red velvet cake? A puff pastry? Did we shop for shoes at Neiman Marcus? I mean, what else is a bad weather weekend for.

Over such weekend I finished "The Inheritance of Loss" by Kiran Desai. Let me tell you that for all the attendant hoopla--the front page of the New York Times Book Review, the 2006 Man Booker Prize--I found it 357 pages of skillful writing that should have emerged as a transporting reading experience, but did not. Why? Because the author is painting a large canvass on too small a palette. The novel is about conflicts and coutner conflicts--among the nation, among the characters--with very few plot threads satisfactorily resolved. Desai goes so far as to reference M.M. Kaye's "The Far Pavillions," and while she aims substanially higher for literary content than that massive tome, Kaye's book, for all its grandiosity is in the end more satisfying. Not to mention Desai's book is relentelessly downbeat, so that the quasi affirmative ending falls flat in comparison with the rest of the book. Nonetheless Desai's writing talent and emotional truthfulness is unmistakable; if she can overcome her flawed techniques she may produce a book worthy of all the awards this one has been given.

Have a good day, girls!

Girls, I Am Telling You....

.....what a weekend it has been! Friday evening started out with a visit to the TKTS booth where Vincent and I got tkts for "Grey Gardens," preceded by a fabulous meal at that theatrical mecca the Edison Coffee Shop, known to theaterfolk and Neil Simon lovers as the Polish Tearoom! We both had their signature matzoh ball soup--great on a cold night--followed by their tuna salad on toast with a diet coke--the perfect meal for two old maids!!!!
And speaking of old maids, how about "Grey Gardens." Well, the Misses Ebersole and Wilson transcend the material they are given, which starts out with a totally unecessary first act that is pure and contrived ersatz Noel Coward. I mean, who gives a shit about Jackie and Lee as little girls? Then we get into a real show with real performances in Act Two, with a few lovely numbers and two breathtaking theatrical portrayals. But, girls, I say if you want to see "Grey Gardens," second act it, because that is the real show, not what comes before. It is like the reverse of "Sunday In The Park With George," where they should have stopped at Act One; both musicals only offer HALF a show. So instead of paying half price, Vincent and I should have paid quarter price!!!!!!

The next day I was thinking of my friend Tom, my cherub, and how he said the show reminded him of his mother! Just then the phone rang, and it was Tom, no less, who was off to an excursion to our South Jersey friends Bill and Steven (you vicious queen!!!!) and would I care to join him. Off we went on a magical excursion through nostalgic ridden suburban Jersey, to a street straight out of "Leave It To Beaver." The house, girls, was FABULOUS!!! I could not get over the yellow bathroom curtains!!!!! We had dinner at Paulie and Anna Rose, the most charming country estate made into a restaurant I have sat in for ages. Our waitress, Diana, with her Dolce and Gabana perfume, knew the score when it came to us and we not only got delicious appetizers--fried calamari plus sausage and peppers in cheese with broccoli rabe, meals to die for and desert a coffee---we got a free after dinner drink! Yes, sir, the Golden Girls were riding high and I was Rue McClanahan!!! By the time I got back to the city you can bet I slept good last night!!

But now girls I must be off to my engagements on Sunday, after straightening up the house, paying bills, doing my Jennifer Jones beauty regimen--all the things us girls have to do to get us through the day!

Kisses, my sweets!!!!!!

Almost Through, Girls

Well, Darlings, it has been quite a day and looks like quite a night. I am headed down to the TKTS booth to try and see something--hopefully "Grey Gardens," though who knows how things will turn out. Accompanied by my friend Vincent, who is very sweet; I help him while crossing the street. As for the day it was sand through the hourglass, with the voice of MacDonald Carey playing in my head. Let's hope the weekend bears promise, because girls, I am telling you I have got to get a husband!!!!! I want to be a Desperate Housewife!!! I want to be one of The Ladies Who Lunch. In the meantime I have to cope with daily hassles like subway selfishness of socail trash that I am forced to ride the train with; but in Queens what else can you expect? It's not like higher echelon types dwell there.
But maybe this weekend the fiction will start appearing, which will give you something to read beside my raving. Meanwhile time to get going. I love you, my darlings!

Take care of yourselves, my pets!

Happy Friday The 13th

"Kill her, Mommy, kill her. Don't let her live."
I won't, Jason; I won't."
Get her, Mommy, get her. She can't hide. NO place to hide.
Kill her, Mommy, KILL her, KILL HER!!!!!!!!!!!"
---Betsy Palmer as Mrs. Voorhees in "Friday The 13th" (1980)

Good Morning, Darlings!
How are all my girls this morning? Let's face it, isn't this better than coffee with Katie? Now Katie may have been America's Sweetheart, but, angels, let's face it I am America's bitch, and this is what America needs!!!! But I am a lovable bitch. After all the milk of human kindness flows in my veins. And if it is one thing I have it is a maternal heart. Room enough in it for all God's creatures!!!!
I am telling you, girls, what a night I had last night!!! Do you know what it is like being one of the sole members of your book group with any sense of literary distinction and taste? Last night I had to wonder how many brains there were in the room, for all that they liked "The Passion" by Jeanette Winterson!!!!! Are we yet ready for Barbara Cartland, sweeties??????
And to switch the subject for a moment, girls, what about Jake and Reese???
I mean, he could have anyone he wants; he could do so much better than thanwhite trash divorcee!!!!! How about me, for starters???? I hear Jake is a real family man, wants someone to take care of and take care of him. I just want to say Jake, honey, look no farther than here.
But then as Sylvia Barrett says it is FTG (Friday, Thank God) which means I must bid all a fond adieu and return to teh enslavement of my livelihood!!!!!

Hugs and kisses girls!!!!!

Quiiiiiiiiiiting Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, girls, it's time to call it a day. I don't know about you but my girdle and heels are killing me. I can't wait to get home and get them off, but first I have to dash down to the Center in the Village where my book group will be attempting to discuss "The Passion" by Jeanette Winterson. Who knows who will turn out for this turkey, because after the last Winterson people swore her off like a bad case of clamydia. Which I happened to overhear some people in a restuaruant last eve discussing. Can you believe it? I mean, what has the world come to that STDs are respectable dinner conversation. Who knows which one of them may have had it?
Anyway, sweets, tonight should be interesting as at least I will get there in time to nominate something brilliant and appropriate, worthy not only of the group's but my superior tastes. We will just have to see what transpires. Meanwhile, chicklets, stay tuned for essays and fiction in the near future and remember what Marilyn Monroe said,
"Square cut or pearl shaped, these rocks don't lose their shape."

Ta Ta, Darlings!

Hi, Girls

Greetings, Girls!
This is my blog which will demonstrate not only how fabulous I am but will welcome comments from others debating the merits of my fabulousness. But I tell you, darlings, do you think it is easy being this fabuous???? It doesn't even guarantee you a hair appointment. And forget about a manicure!!!

It will also include exciting features like fiction and articles of note I have written, so editors and agents out there if you are looking for the next Jonathan Safran Foer or Joshua Ferris, look no further. Though at 52 (my professional age being twenty four ) that hardly qualifies me as young. Up and coming, yes but not young.

And so we are launched darlings, wish me a successful voyage !

Kisses, girls!