Darlings, I'll Give You "Lullaby From Baby To Baby!!!!!!!"

"The sun is rising in the smokey sky.
The place is any city you can name.
In a house, a door opens, and closes goodbye.
The atmosphere won't be the same."

Girls, those words were penned 32 years ago by Elizabeth Swados, and vocally rendered by the immortal Trini Alvarado in the musical theater classic "Runaways." Now, just why I am thinking about this today? Well, first, we finally get to kiss the ass goodbye to February, which has been a horrible month, and March signals the year going on and thing changing. Plus it just happens to be my sister's--who is a Leap Year baby--unreal birthday, and she is 70!!!!!! I mean, girls, I just can't believe it. Hell, I cannot believe I am actually 55, though my PROFESSIONAL AGE, darlings, is STILL 24!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And there is more not to be believe. Like that I am still single and without a partner. That I who was supposed to make it big and return to the suburbs in triumph with unlimited finanacial resources has not, and is barely ekeing out an existence in an apartment in Queens. And how is this for more--when I leave YOU, readers, I have to high tail it to the City to preach a homily tonight at my church service. My father would keel over, if he knew this, never mind Mother Teresa!!!!!!!

So it is no wonder that Trini's song is passing through my mind. Have a wonderful Sunday, girls, and kiss this month goodbye. Let us hope March is an improvement!!!!!!!

Kisses to all!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Birthday, Shelley!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, darlings, I know it is Liz Taylor's birthday, and she turns 78! And today Miss Joanne Woodward hits 80!!!!! But the REAL birthday to be aware of today is the one and only Shelley Plimpton, best known today as the mother of actress Martha Plimpton, but to those of us of a certain age, will always be Crissy in "Hair," who sang "Frank Mills" and inspired me to do the same each September 12--you guessed it!--in front of the Waverly!!!!!

To think that Shelley is 63; sweeties, we should all look this good at 63!!!! I know I hope to, when I finish being 24, which I still am, darlings!!!!!!!!!!

But a Happy, Happy Birthday to Shelley! "Frank Mills" forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Honey, When You Live In New York, You Live With Rats!!!!!!!!!

.........And, girls, I am not just talking about the two legged kind we sometimes get mixed up with on dates. No, I am talking about the four footed, furry and toothy ones, a la "Willard."

Last night, darlings, Audrey had her fabulous game night at her palatial Brooklyn terraced pensione. We had a charming group, and played "Balderdash." The pasta pesto was exquisite, and so was this goat cheese thing, and the drinks flowed.
By the time we left it was midnight, and this Cinderella had NO coach and no Prince to take him home. So while waiting at the #4 train station at Union Square, I saw this big old New York rat running across the tracks. Now, as rats go, I have to say it was respectable enough, and it didn't bother me at all. I mean, it was better behaved, actually, than some of those aforementioned dates!!!!!!

But it got me thinking--has city living progressed beyond Dickens' time, when you think about it. I maintain there are just as many rats around as there were then; the only difference is with indoor plumbing and things being flushed down instead of tossed onto dung heaps and such, they are not as visible! I am telling you, girls, Anna Wintour may rule the fashion world, but when it comes to durability the rats and roaches may give even Anna a run for her money. Though if you live here long enough, you hear Anna is a bit of a rat, herself!!!!!!!!!!!

Of course seeing a rat is better than being MARRIED to one! And how about this--coming out of the subway at Christopher Street last eve, I saw an ad for a new reality show called "Second Chance", the premise being--"What if the one that got away came back to you?", the theory being that first love gets a Second Chance. Honey, are you kidding? You think I want to go back to ANY of my exes?????? The only thing I want to do with them is toss a lump of coal on their graves!!!!!!!

But we must try and be cheerful, darling, as February comes to a close and we anxioulsy await Le Sacre Du Printemps. Make sure everything you do is sacre, girls!!!!!!!!!

Girls, Today Is An Anniversary Of Sorts!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, I could not let this day go by without noting that 42 years ago, on this day back in 1968, I saw "Gone With The Wind" for the first time. It was at the renowned Clairidgge Theatre in Montclair, New Jersey, and the viewing dazzled me with its epic scope, Vivien Leigh as Scarlett teaching me how to survive life, and the most faithful adaptation of a book read my 13 year old self had seen. And after all these years I still turn up for GWTW if it is in a theater, because that is where it BELONGS, darling, forgot that goddmn Blu-Ray or whatever else hell High Definition crap nonsense. Accept no imitation screenings when it comes to viewing this film.

To think, I was in 7th grade then and at the height of my adolescent angt. Who would think I would last 42 years to tell about it. But I have, darlings, becaue I am FABULOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!

So the next time someone sugests veiwing GWTW you remember girls--only ON SCREEN!!!!!!!

Or, so help me, I will bitch slap you with my panties!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, The Stars Were Shining Last Night!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, believe me, in all my years of celebrity chronicling, from Princess Grace's wedding, to Frank and Ava's fights, to Eddie breaking up with Debbie, nothing comes close to last night's tribute to our own, beloved, ALan. Hosted by Tema Hecht, in a stunning evening gown, with jewled amultet to match, the tone for the evening was set by the Misses Janice and Annette, who, I will have you know, found time last week to fly to Paris and Italy, respecitively, to get their original Givenchy and Adolfo creations, which they were wearing last night.

This was better than Joan Rivers' red carpet. To think we would see dance legend Lacy McDearmon inn public again; could a return to the stage be far off? And didn't Maxine Soares look stunning in a creamy creation that would make Grace Kelly in her grave roll over with envy!!!!!

The food was plentiful, but would you believe, lambs, that in all my years of attending such affairs, this was the first time I did NOT get any shrimp or desert? Both were gobbled up faster than a group of convicted witches at Salem, Mass. in
1692, and don't we know some present day witches, who ought to be convicted///

But none were present last night. What a treat to see Mary Jane Wright, George Mayer, who looked FABULOUS, Kris Shuman, the celebrated Ruth Carr and her husband, Jerry, and dozens of others. You can bet the drinks flowed, and didn't Aram Tchonanian look SO CUTE in his little suit, delivering his tribute to Alan. Not to metnion the tributes by Tema, our own Jackie Davis, Steve Ross' piano solo...darlings, the whole thing was exhausting.

Nevertheless, I am STIlL holding Sara Velez to finding me a husband!!!! I was hoping for last nght, what with 200 people, but who are you kidding? But Sara, Tema and Maxine, are going to do my wedding, which will feature me in a Vera Wang gown, and take place at The Pierre.

Even so, it will have to go a long way to eclipsing our beloved Alan's evening. The end of an era, and he will be deeply missed!!!!!!!!

What a night, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, Sometimes In The Morning, The Body Does NOT Want To Stretch!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, I am telling you, with encroaching age, it is amazing how the muscles can atrophy during sleep, and what it takes to undo all that, especially if you are not Donna McKechnie, no matter how much you may have wanted to be. Of course, if we were Donna, girls, there would be no problem, but for those of us who are not we have to stretch, and boy does that take some!!!!!!!

Last night was a pefectly nasty night, both literally, with the weather, and onstage, with the new Martin McDonagh play "A Behanding In Spokane." It was sick and twisted, so, to a certain extent, I LOVED IT!!!!!!!! And Christopher Walken did his usual Christopher Walken thing, which no one else can do like Christopher Walken, so this sick, twisted character fit him like a hand glove. If only that had been true of the lone femmme role, played by Zoe Kazan, granddaughter of famed Elia. Honey, you would never know it, judging from her work up there. I kept thinking how ten years ago Martha Plimpton would have aced this part more skillfully, and watching Zoe, who has a voice that is like listening to chalk grate on a blackboard was excruciating. The only thing worse would have been to have she and Harvey Fierstein, with HIS voice, sharing that stage for an evening--that might have sent me out of the theater screaming. But the story was short, compelling, the language creative, and Mr. McDonagh does seem to have an almost unhealthy fascination with children being murdered. Just imagine if he had done the screenplay or directed "The Lovely Bones"--it MIGHT have been a GOOD movie!!!!!!!!

But I am sure those of you out there are saying I am just being a bitch again, and maybe I am, but if you saw what a mess was made of "The Lovely Bones" despite brilliant work by Miss Ronan and Mr. Tucci, you would bitch, too.

No resentments to catalog today, girls, so I guess the Baby Jane influence is further wearing off. Tonight we have a gala celebration honoring our retired coworker Alan, and it should prove to be a star studded event, and this celebrity chronicler, darlings, promises to report on it all tomorrow. So in the meantime, have yourselves a cup of chamomille tea, sit back, and enjoy the day!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love to all my girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, We Are On The Aisle Tonight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Off to the the theater this evening, girls, to see the new Martin McDonagh play "A Beheading In Spokane," starring the quirkiest and wonderful of actors, Mr. Christopher Walken. And that is behanding, not beheading, dears. Hope he does not lose his HELPING hand, because, girls, where we would be without it? Especially those of us like moi, who haven't a husband????? But who knows; maybe Mr. Walken will dance a jig and McDonagh will tone down his dark sensibility. We are not expecting Jane Austen, but it should be fun. And I am going with a very lovely and charming gentleman, who, if he were not spoken for already, I would make a play for. But I will be good tonight, darlings; I am NO homewrecker.

Just for the record, to show that I am certainly not as misogynistic as one might think, I would like to catalog a resentment featuring a MAN. The man in question is one Michael Karol, who was two years ahead of me in high school. Each spring, back then, our drama program would have a Drama Torunament--an evening of short four one-act plays, or plays trimmed to one act, directed by students. Mr. Karol, in his senior year in 1971, was chosen to direct my sophomor class in the play "Feiffer's People," a collection of vignettes by Jules Feiffer. Of course I showed up for the auditions, and as I scouted the room, it was pretty obvious who was going to get cast before anyone opened their mouth--and that did NOT include me. But that was not the issue; I got my turn. and when I began reading the script, Karol reprimanded me overtly, in a manner remniscent of the aforementioned Katina Mataras, demanding, "Would you lower your voice, please?" because my voice was changing and I guess he could not stand it. I complied, finished the reading and was thanked. I took my seat and watched as the others auditioned; what he could have not known was for me this was both a social activity, seeing who got cast, and a theatrical one, observing the audition process, which I was interested in. I cannot blame him for not knowing all this. BUT there was no need for him to suddenly turn around look at me, and yell out dismissively, in front of all the others. "You can just GO. You are dismissed," as if I were not worth anything. Obviously, I was not going to be cast, and I guess I was partially hurt from that, but I was more hurt by his callous dismissial; I had the right to sit there and stay and watch the others. I made that clear by folding my hands and saying, "Thank you, but I am staying." I did, and that was that.

Well, fuck you, Mr. Michael Karol. You would be about 57 years out by now, and since you were not great looking then, you must be fairly decrepit now, holed in some suburban enclave where you do nothing with your life, acting like you have accomplished something, when in fact you have not. I hope this gets back to you, bitch. Of course, the thing to remember with these people is that while YOU remember THEM, they NEVER REMEMBER YOU!!!! Mike would probably deny all involvement in this if confronted today. I would like to confront him with a tax audit to get even, and if I had gone that professional path, believe me, I just might, being such a bitch, at times. But I just wanted to show, loves, that not all my resentments involve women, and women don't hold the premium on being abusive. So suffer wherever you are, Mr. Michael Karol, and know that you have been exposed for the fraud you are here!!!!!!!

My, that felt good, girls. Almost as good as my return to Yoga this morning, which I am doing for my back, and going to a class tomorrow; it is time to get physical, even if we will never dance like Donna McKechnie, we can be the best we can!!!!!! So that is my message to you today, girls, be the best you can be, and screw all the Michael Karols in your lives!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

See you on the aisle, tonight, loves, with a full report tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, Be The Wind, Be The Seas, Be Whatever You Please, But Just BE HERE On Sunday Night!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, now you know, judging how I am now quoting ersataz Seventies song lyrics that I am badly in need of a man. Not that I didn't see any over the weekend, mind you, and they are REAL sweet, but let's face it, none of us, myself included girls, would make through the audition process for a Titan Media film!!!!!

But Saturday night in Bloomfield was a little bit of Heaven on Earth. I am telling you, loves, the scenic PATH ride out to Newark, making its way pass the marshes, and stopping in Harrison, made me yearn to live by those train tracks. Maybe I could hook up with a nice engineeer. Of course that night we dined at--where else?--the fabulous Nevada Diner, which is THE hot spot in Bloomfield, and where people from all over the world come, some from even as far away as New Yokr City, ie; yours truly. Which is another world, next to Bloomfield, believe me!!!!

I DO have to say, loves that the Nevada needs a bit to get their act together, because in their glory days before the Renovation, the service was Top Notch. I mean, just like at the Cafe Carlyle, darlings, and you know I know all about THAT. Now, admittedly, they were swamped on Saturday, but that was NO EXCUSE not to give us bread with our meal, and the same with the lack of grated cheese on atop the salad with the raspberry dressing. I am telling you, it was the grated cheese extra that put the Nevada on the map!!! And no matter how cute Boris, or Dimitri, or whatever the head waiter's name is may be, if these things are not attended to, despite all the green and neon lighting, it could very well knock the Nevada off the map! Which we don't want to happen, darlings, because where would Bloomfield be without it??? Not even Upper Montclair can boast of such a glory place as the Nevada.

Nevertheless the meal and company were scrumtious, and of course us girls went back to Joe's for cake and cofee, the latter made by me in true Dorothy McGuire fashion!!!!! Girls, Jioe's cake was so cute and tasty, with layers of chocolate and custard. The only thing tastier might have been Stanely Tucci, if he had arrived, which, darlings there would have been the biggest bitchfight over who gets to sit next to HIM and take care of HIM with cake and coffee and.....AHEM!!!!!!!!!

But Joe had a Happy Birthday celebration, and honey, you should see his decoration scheme--it crosses Diana Vreeland with Truman Capote!!!! Joe's red pajamas with little patterns on them were so CUTE and made him look CUTE!!!! And the living room in red, with the dark lighting and nodding snowman, with the Christmas lights still aglow outside, my God, it was worthy of a David Lynch film. One expected Dennis Hopper, Isabella Rossellini, or Dean Stockwell to walk out any second!!!!! In spite of it all, some of us were tired, and then Tom drove me back to Newark Penn Station, where THIS Cinderella, minus a Prince, of course, got home after midnight.

Alas, yesterday was a different story. I had to show up at my friend David's apt (David is recentely deceased) and it was my first time there since his passing. Always a tough one, darlings. But I came away with some touching memementos plus something practical--the most FABULOUS set of drinking glasses, decorated in Saturday Evening Post covers. I should get some wine and celebrate, but now that I have eaten all the Italilan Chicken Stew, the next thing on the cutting board if Beef Bourgenon!!!!! Darlings, it will taste so good, it might just drive our beloved pregnant Amy Adams into labor!!! Hell, it might drive ME into labor, girls, and I am not even preganant; I am just a big menopausal BITCH!!!!!!!!!

I anm telling you, lambs, after the weekend I had, I should take the day off! But I have to work till 8, then meet Harvey at the world famous Malibu, where the Elite meet to eat, to discuss the day. Darlings, by then I will be ready for the night cream and a pilllow!!!!!

Make sure there is night cream in your cabinets, loves!!!!!!!!! The week is on, and we are off and running!!!!!!!

Ciao, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, This Weekend Is So Skewered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men. I had such a weekend planned--a leisurely afternoon to catch Part 3 of that wonderful serial killer film "Red Riding Trilogy," then dinner with Harvey and the Girls. Because tomorrow I have to go to David's apartment to see if I want anything, which is going to be poignant and painful, then down to the Center to do my Dignity Homily run-through, which should be a HOOT, and then sing. Then back to work. No rest for the weary.

At ten minutes to eight this morning--girls, I am telling you, the night cream was still on my face--my friend Joe calls. Wednesday was his birthday, and I had planned to wish him such later in the day, but a gathering is being held out at his place in Bloomfield--I LOVE IT--tonight. So that takes care of the movie, and here I am blogging with a card and gift ready for Joe, prior to taking the PATH out to Tom in Newark. Darlings, I will give you a full report on the evening.

Now for a full report on Katina Mataras, a little wrong side of the tracks bitch who was just too full of herself, and who is still living on those Goddamn wrong side of the tracks. She and I had a classic run-in when I was in first grade, and she sixth.

At the time, sixth grade was the senior grade in my elementary school back then. And to us first graders, they seemed as big as adults. Some of those students got to be safety patrol monnitors, whichg meant wearing a badge and white belt across your chest, and walking kids across the street. But Katina was a rotten little bitch, who took things too seriously.

One day, I was crossing the street at her corner; in fact, my mother was waiting for me in the car on the other side to take me home. It was winter, there had been a lot of snow, and while waiting to cross, I was sifting it through my hands, not bothering anyone. Katina proceeded to reprimand me, beyond the point of anything, as I was doing nothing. Maybe she was afraid I would throw a snowball, but who knows? In any case, I resented her bitchy manner, and told her to shut up, because I like snow. She said, "Well, tough!" and we proceeded to argue. She would not leave me alone. Then she grabbed me. Now, I had been raised never to let strangers touch you, and though I superficially knew who Katina was, technically she was a stranger. In my hand, was my first grade book bag. It was in my right hand, and as Katina refused to let go, and I continued to struggle, I slowly hauled back my arm then moved forward and landed her a blow on her shoulder with my brief case. I don't think it really hurt; she let go, as she was more startled than hurt. My mother, for whatever reason, did NOTHING, and sort of defended Katina, asking if she wanted me to stay and go to the principal's office. Katina was too overcome after dealing with the likes of ME, who was SUPERIOR to HER.

Her brother, Harry, was in my grade, but in the dumb first grade class--ie; Mrs. Ellis. For several years afterwards, he would say to me "YOU hit MY sister with your briefcase." It must have been the talk of the Mataras household that night.

What did I do about it? For the remainder of that year, even though it meant an extra distanace, I REFUSED to cross at her corner or even speak to the bitch!!!!!
And I hope this gets back to Katina, because I want her to know  I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN THIS YET, and it was symptomatic of why the suburbs were unsuitable for me, and why she is still there on the wrong side of the tracks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What do you think of that, girls?????? I feel so much better for having aired this!!! Meanwhile, time for me to get on with my weekend. Will keep you posted on everything girls, and don't forget to use that astringent now, loves!!!!!!!!

Kisses, everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, Let's Get One Thing Straight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Excuse me, girls, for shocking you on here with that last word--straight. Not to worry; I am not headed in THAT direction? ME? Why, it is DISGUSTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What I should have said was let's get something clarified and it is this--"THE SONG OF BERNADETTE IS NOT KITSCH!" Imagine my horror, lambs, when I read the NYTimes review of the film "Lourdes," by that idiot Manhola Dargis, and she makes reference to his film as a "Hollywood kitsch classic." Again, excuse me? And with Jennifer Jones just two months gone, she has the NERVE to say this? Let me tell you, I will twist that bitch's tongue out right before her eyes for saying such a thing. She deserves it for such a desecration.

But I promised you more from yesterday, so let me tell you about THE LETTER.

The year was 1979, barely a year after the Lauren Schor incident. At this point, my mother had succumbed to the ravages of illness (Cancer, which eventually took her) and was hospitalized. At the time prior, she had still been working as a Teacher's Aide at one of the elementary schools. One day I was with her, and this letter arrives addressed to her simply as--"Mrs. Hearn, St. Peter's Hospital, New Brunswick, New Jersey." No room number or zip code; I could see it was posted locally, so it did come through the mailing system. The writing was block print, so I just assumed it was one of the students sending forth good wishes. When I opened the envelope, and removed the white lined paper, I had no reason not to assume the same thing--still childish block print. THEN I read the actual message, which I will quote on here verbatim, and found out it was NOT written by a child, but manufactured to look such. The message went as follows--"Dear Mrs. Hearn--I am very sorry that you have cancer, and you don't have long to live, but I want you to know we are all praying for you. Now maybe your son will be a man and go to work to help you and your husband. Our best to you. Your neighbors."

Until this happened, I could not believe such suburban cruelty. Well, now I do. To this day, darlings, I have NO idea who wrote it. Well, IDEAS, yes, but not proof. For years I thought my aforementioned uncle involved in the Lauren Schor incident was responsible, but it took me years to realize that he had already done the damage he set out to do, and he was not the type to be this duplicitous and clever; if he thought you were full of shit, he thought nothing of telling it to your face, as the Schor incident with me proved. Years later, it occured to me there was another possibility.

Shortly after my mother passed on, I had a brief banking job during the summer of 1979. On the way to work, I would see one of our neighbors, and the father of one of my grade school classmates, whose parents and mine were friends with, walking over the bridge into the next town. I noticed this every morning, and one of my mother's friends pointed out he was going to Temple to atone for his sins. I could not imagine what he had to atone for, as he was an innocuous, Mr. Peepers type, but then she showed me this newspaper article he had clipped. Shortly before this, he had been arrested and tried for writing a series of "lewd Letters" to two women in our town. The women were not identified, and in later years, I came to wonder if my mother had been one of them, to begin with. My parents certainly would never have discussed this with me, if it had been true. But now a second suspect loomed, one who fit all the criteria--knew my mother was hospitalized, terminally ill, with what illness, and that I was not working and having difficulty getting work. How someone so close to our family could do something like this is still beyond me, and it was a turning point--I vowed that if I survived all this, I was going to walk away and abandon the suburbs, as it was clear I was not wanted there. And I did eventually make good my vow.

When my father arrived that evening, he could see we--my mother and I were very upset. The letter was shown to him, he put it in his pocket--and that was the last it was heard of or discussed. Now, 31 years later, I do not know if the answer will ever be known. But the reprecussions in my case were devastating and were yet another contributor to my growing list of suburban resentments.

Now, what do you think of that story, darlings? Not exactly "Peter Pan;" and neither is the tale of Katina Mataras, which I will save for next time. But not to worry--sooner or later things will lighten up on here, and won't that be lovely, girls?????????

Have to run now, loves! It is teatime!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, Let's Examine Some More Of That Blanche Hudson Resentment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, I am telling you, there is so much to resent. You all have heard of Gloria Schwartz Shaprio, but let me give you the full story there.

Up the street from us, until around 1974, lived a family called the Becks. They had several boys, one of whom, Dickie, was behind me, and another, Billy, was ahead of me. When the Becks moved out, the Schwartzes moved in. Carl had curly hair, just like his then 4 year old son Jay (why can't I remember the name of their second child?) and Gloria was one of these typical oversexrd, blonde JAP Erica Jong wannabee bitches, who would sit out on her porch reading stuff like Erica Jong and "Evertyhting You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask." Hell, she was probably reading it to improve her fucking with her husband, because the goddamn bitch never did anything else, let her chidlren run wild, and God forbid if she shoudl WORK!!!!!!!!

Now everyone knew who everyone was on the street, but our particulars were of no business to anyone but ourselves. So one day one of the kids on the street--Mary Ann, or Margaret I think, told me they had heard Mrs. Schwartz saying this remark about me not being real. To which I still say what she wants to think is perfectly fine with me, but why repeat this aloud to the children, unless she WANTED (which she did, the bitch!) to get it back to me!!!!! Well, how do you like the picture I have painted of you on here, Gloria; go have an orgasm and drop your goddamn nail file!!!!!!!! She hardly knew who I was, so who was she to pass judgement. But that is what living in that town, and hence the suburbs was like, and why I felt I HAD to get out!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, don't worry, girls, there is plenty more where that came from. Wait till you hear about THE LETTER and Katina Mataras, who is STILL living in that Godforsaken town on the wrong side of the tracks, where she was born and where she will very likely DIE!!!!!!!!!

There is MORE to come, girls, so stay tuned!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, "We're Sailin' Home, So, Rosie, Dear, Bring Chicken Soup Down To The Pier!!!!!!!!!!!"

Girls, you are not going to believe what I heard last night. I mean, it violates philospophy and ethics. There I was at a gathering of gay men--GAY men, mind you!--and this one guy says how he went on a date Saturday night, and the two of them went to the movies. They went to see "Funny Girl" at the Ziegfeld. Perfect; what could be a more perfect dating movie for two GAY men. But then he said that the guy he was dating had NEVER seen it???

Excuse me???? I mean, I was so horrified, I screamed! How can you be gay and NOT have seen "Funny Girl." Darlings, this was the film that made so many of us want to be Barbra, because it told us, that, like her, we could be stars, simply coming out of nowhere. It made me write the Barbra Song--to the tune of "People!"

Barbra!
We want to be Barbra!
She's the luckiest Barbra in the world.
We're children, playing Barbra's records.
And yet letting our grown up pride,
hide all the need inside.
Acting more like Barbra than Barbra.
Barbra's a very special Barbra.
She's the luckiest Barbra in the world.
With one Barbra! One very special Barbra!
A feeling deep in your soul.
Says you were half, now you're whole.
No more hunger and thirst.
But, first, be a gay man who needs Barbra!
Gay men who need Barbra,
Are the luckiest People in the world!

Yes, lambs, Barbra has made me what I am, why I am the greatest star, etc.
Do you honestly think for one moment I would date a guy who has NEVER seen "Funny Girl?" Do you think such a guy is actually GAY? Of course not!!!!!

I mean, how much world horror can we stand, girls!!!!!

And Happy Ash Wecnesday to you all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Shrove Tuesday, Girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I almost forgot to congratulate everyone on here--we have made it, darlings to yet ANOTHER Shrove Tuesday. Eat your pancakes tonight, loves. I plan to eat mine this evening at the world famous Malibu--where the elite meet to eat!!!!! Join me if you wish for this celebrity studded event!!!!!

See you later, girls!

Darlings, Sometimes It Takes Serial Killers And Death To Bring You Back From Being A 'Baby Jane' Bitch!!!!!!!!!

Girls, I haven't been on here in awhile, you must have been famished, my darlings for news. Well, I have plenty.

Top story is that Saturday eve I found that my friend David lost his year long battle with cancer. Interestingly for me, loves, he died on the morning of February 11--which is the date, back in 1858, that Bernadette Soubirous--Bernadette, not Jennifer Jones, loves!--had her initial vision. So I am convinced that Bernadettte and Jennifer came to take David--and that Mary Martin was waiting for him on the other side, for reasons that will be known only to David and now myself.

Still, we kept busy darlings--that Italian chicken stew is stretching for miles, and so is the wine, proof postive I am NOT an alcoholic, girls! Though with all I have lived through it is a wonder that I am NOT. We have seen so far two out of the three films of the Red Riding Trilogy--England and serial killers, oh boy!--and they are something!!!! I cannot wait to see Part 3 and read the books!!!!!!!!!

Tonight I am meeting with Donna my tax person to get the papers. Then maybe by the weekend I can mail them out, which means I will not have to think about such things untill the start of 2011, if I am here. Fine with me, as I would rather NOT think about it at all!!!!!!

And didn't I have two of the strangest dreams over the weekend, loves!!!!!
The first had to do with past resentments, which harkened back to my recent viewing of 'Baby Jane'.'

The second involved my friend, Mark, whom, let me say right out, I am not interested in romantically. In the dream, I was over at his house and in his bed, wrapped glamorously in sheets, ala "Les Liasons Dangereuses." It is my dream, darlings, so of course I should look glamorous!!!! Mark was dressed in nothing but a pair of pink panties, and with us was his cat Noreen and a pink poodle. The poodle was tearing at Mark's panties with its teeth, girls, and Mark was all over me, hitting on me and begging me to finger Noreen's clit!!!!!! I mean, ME, finger a pussy's pussy! Whereupon I turned Mark over and slapped him silly, turned his cheeks beet red. Then I rammed him up against the wall, and with my hands bracing it, shoved my engorged member into his mouth. I am muttering the most vile imprecations, ordering him to service me or ELSE, which he enjoyed, and of course I erupted. Then I pulled out and slapped him silly, with my still enogroged member. When I awoke, you had better believe I was engorged and took things well in hand.
Oh, also during the dream, I pulled the poodle off Mark, took the panties out of the poodle's mouth, stuffed them into Mark's and threw the poodle through the window.

The 'Baby Jane' dream was like an outake from the "Boy Crazy" episode of "Cold Case," where I was in a hospital gown in some sexual orientation conversion program, which was trying to make me straight--ARE YOU KIDDING? In the dream this guy in a military getup was ordering me to lick a dirty plate clean, drink beer, and wipe it on my sleeve. I threw the beer and plate at him and told him to drink his own piss, which sympbolizes my contempt for ALL authority, especially pigs like Grotesque Creature, whom I may have to sit in on with tomorrow. In that case, she ought to have something jammed down her gullet and CHOKE ON IT, bitch!!!!!!!!

Guess there is still a wee bit of Baby Jane left in me. Oh, well, it is early in the week, and maybe my member will get some kind of satisfaction? Who knows, loves?

Hows's that, after a dry spell, girls????????????????????????

Darlings, A Good Time Was Had By All.........

.....at last night's Chelsea Classics screening of "What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?" with Hedda Lettuce hosting.

Girls, let me tell you this movie is in MY bloodstream--has been ever since it came out in 1962. Back then , at age 7, my father took me to a reissue of Disney's "Lady and the Tramp." I always wanted to stay and see the coming attractions--how else to glimpse adult fare then?--and 'Baby Jane' was playing the following week. The trailer, showing Better kicking Joan across the room and then standing menacing in the swinging doorway while a terrified Blanche looked over her shoulders, then went to torture, made an impression on ME. That evening, my parents went out, and though my grandmother was downstairs, taking care of me, I would not go to sleep because I was SO convinced that Bette Davis as Baby Jane was going to come through the door.

And the story, girls! It starts out in 1917, I yes, I am the DARLING of the vaudeville stage, and my litttle bitch sister Blanche has to accept her secondary status. Then that bitch turns out to manufacture crap that outdoes mine, makes me guilty over something SHE did, and brings it all on herself!!!!! I was the WRONBED ONE, darlings! I! I! I!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In real life, this is a mantra for how I live in bitterness and resentment over the past. "I won't forget. You BET I won't forget!" Contrast this childhood that I wanted with one I HAD--having to bow to suburban bitches, and nursing resentments still to a constellation of them, including--
Mrs. Edith Compton
Mrs. Esther Cohen
Mrs. Mary Beinhower
Mrs. Ruth Bergen
Mrs. Norma Brodsky
Mrs. Elsie Behmer
Mrs. Raisle Feldman (7th Grade English)
Mrs. Susan Sher (7th Grade Math)
Mrs. Alice C. Santamraina (HS French)
Mrs. Gloria Shapiro-Schwartz (street bitch)
..........to name just a few!!!!!!!!! I have not forgotten or forgiven what they have done to me, and 'Baby Jane' fuels my rage for fame and vindication which they failed to give ME!!!! It is all about ME, darlings! ME! ME! ME!!!!!!!!!!!!

Right now my resentment is so manifest towards Grotesque Creature that if I have to bear any time in its presence next week I will lash out!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, darlings, you can see what a treat it was to see "What Ever Happeend To Baby Jane?" Maybe you had better avoid me for the next couple of days. Just give me a few, and then I am sure I will be back to being as sweet and pure as Amy Adams.

But meanwhile--

"I WON'T FORGET. YOU BET I WON'T FORGET!"

Darlings, We Looked SO FABULOUS Yesterday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

.........in our beige peigenoirs, as we curled on our divans, sipping cups of coccoa and coffee, reading Wilkie Collins with the wind howling and the snow racing outside!
Girls, every Wednesday should be like this, because right now we are so rested and perky we would exhaust even Amy Adams. But just in time for tonight, lambs--for this is the eve of the 'Baby Jane' screening at Chelsea with Hedda! Who knows, maybe a husband is waiting! You can be sure I will report to all my girls tomorrow on what went on there tonight. And it will be such fun to see that film on the screen--we haven't in awhile, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just to keep things in perspective, do you know that today is the 152nd anniversary of the apparition of Our Lady of Lourdes to Bernadette? Not Jennifer Jones, dolls, I am talking about the REAL Bernadette. And it happened on a Thursday, too, which means 2010 is opeating on the same calendar system as 1858!!! Where else but this blog, dears, would you learn such FACTS?????? This is why I am so needed, and why you need me. And I will keep trying to satisfy those needs, my pets!!! Now if only someone would satisfy mine!

Oh, well, we have 'Baby Jane' tonight, a 20 year anniversary engagement tomorrow, which I will report on, and still some of that fabulous stew left at home. Stay warm, darlings, are remember to cuddle up to your respecitve cash registers, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, You'll Find This Dance Is A-Outta Sight, To "When The Lion Sleeps Tonight!!!!!!!!"

Girls, February happens to be Black history month, so first of all let's kick back and do the Mashed Potato with Dee Dee Sharp!!!! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! It's the latest, it's the greatest! Come on, honey!

Dance with Dee Dee, read Toni Morrison and listen to the philosophical espousings of Angela Davis!!!!!!!!! Those of us who knew her in the Sixties knew she war Right On! then and she still is now!

My hormones must be out of whack these days, darlings, because some moments I feel so UP, othes down. Even if we get the day off tomrrow due to snow I will be stuck in my apt with nothing to do but read, which is fine, I suppsose, but how I would like to get to the IFC and see that marvelous serial killer trilogy, or to the Film Forum to see "Ran."

Today is Mia Farrown's birthday, which makes it papatable in comparison with one whose birthday it also is today, and who is someday gonna get their comeuppance!!!!!!!

And of course, after we danmce the Mashed Potato, what do we need after that?
"Gravy," of course! Gimme gimme gimme gimmme gravy tonight! Let us just wail away like Mahhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaalia Jackson and sing "We Shall Overcome!" Because, girsl there is so much to overcome just going from one day to the next.

But don't let this day get you down, darlings. Remember, girls, "Joan of Arc, with the Lord to guide her, she was a sister who really cooked!"

Cook this, bitches!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlilngs, Do Not Overlook That All Important First Relationship!!!!

And, girls, I am not even talking about romance or marriage here. I mean, even if I had a warm furry hunk next to me under the covers, he would have to understand that when the alarm goes off, my most important relationship is with my coffee pot and that first, intoxicating sip of cofee--caffeinated, darlings!!!! I mean, sometimes it can be better than an orgasm, lambs, and you know how much we know all about THAT. So take a deep breath and remember no matter what your martial status or lack thereof your relationship to your coffee is the most important one you have going!!!!

I am telling you, Amy Adams would have been so proud of me! I spent most of Saturday in the kitchen and made this fabulous Italian chicken vegetable stew, using diced tomatoes, sauce, what veggies I had on hand, chicken and a cup of red wine. And a box of orzo pasta!!!!! Sweethearts, I am telling you, it is a wonder Stanley Tucci did not come knocking on my door. Even he would have been impressed how just a year ago I was such a kitchen novice, and now I am cooking with wine. The sky is the limit, girls, just wait till we get to that beef bourgenon.

And to think this morning I was cruisied in MY neighborhood by two very desirable guys. I hope they appear again, so I can dazzle them with my culinary arts, and they maybe can dazzle me with their bedroom art, which honey, I would not at all mind being dazzled by. Meantime, I have my cooking,some wine, and Wilkie Collins to dazzle me, until something better comes along.

No controversey yet from my redent posting about my walking away from corporate America--interesting. Maybe no one dares to challenge me. Not that I don't allow it, but the thing you have to remember on here, darlings, is that I AM FABULOUS, and I AM ALWAYS RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meantime have a lovelys start to this February week, wear your outdoor gloves out, and your white ones to luncheon. With pearls, of course!!!!!

Love to all, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"I Won't Forget! You BET I Won't Forget!!!!!!!!!"

Darlings, that line has been my mantra ever since I heard it when I first saw "What Ever Happened To Baby Jane," the movie that damn well depicted the childhoood I SHOULD have had. And this Thursday, loves, we get to hear this line again when Hedda Lettuce hosts an evening screening at the Chelsea. Girls, we just cannnot wait; who knows, maybe we will meet a life partner there. I mean, a bunch of gay guys at 'Baby Jane?' Chances are substantially higher than at a church picnic!!!!!!!!!

And obviously my bitch chronicling yesterday shows I do not forget family issues that I refuse to bury. And someday their consquences will be made known. Meanwhile, I am just going to curl up with some wine, Wilkie Collins, and make a fabulous chicken stew, because it has been a long time, girls, since we have been in that kitchen! So we will be sure to let you know how it turns out.

What I want to know is--where are Donna and Baayork in relation to the forthcoming "Promises,Promises" revival! I mean, this Rob nobody, who is he? No Michael Bennett, I can tell you; he is going to need Donna and Baayork to step in and show him how to do 'Turkey Lurkey' RIGHT!!!! What does he thing he is going to do--out his so-called "choreographic slant" on the show??? Bullshit, you bitch, when you revive a Michael Bennett show you do HIS choreography and no one else's. If I go to this, and see what dance step out of place I will have his ass in a SLING, and I do not mean for pleasure, girls!!!!

Nursing a cold people, which I very likely got from the nursing home, which I am staying away from till it is bettter. Have just spoken to Donna about our upcoming twentieth anniversary meeting--no, darlings, not Donna McKechnie, another Donna!!!!!

So that is about it, loves, have a warm wonderful Winter weekend, and believe you me you will get a full report this coming Friday about the 'Baby Jane' screening!

"Blaaaaaaaaaanche!!!!!!!!!", loves!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Welcome To My BitchFest, Girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, let me tell you about this wonderful blog I have discovered that certainly echoes cherished sentiments of mine. It is called "Fuck Corporate America," and is a criticism from within, that is, written by someone who is mired in such, and knows whereof he speaks. My hats go off to him and this blog.

You may wonder why I share such sentiments, as I dont't, technically speaking, work in corporate America. Alas, there is a tale to tell..............

The year was 1978. I had graduated college the spring of '77. and was looking to make my entryway somewhere--suit, briefcase, the whole bit, circa that time. I was perfectly happy to settle down in some office job, as an administrative assistant, work my way up, and live the suburban life I was clearly raised for. Alas, that was not to be. And the consequences were devastating.

During this period, my father informed me, that spring, that an interview had been set up for me by an uncle at Personal Products, a divsion of Johnson and Johnson , where he worked. What should have been routine turned out to be more memorable than I could imagine.

I got all duded up, with my briefcase, and was shown into the office, by a pleasant looking woman, a personnel representative, whose name I still remember--Lauren Schor. When she looked at my resume, and saw my home address, we began a friendly discussion of the Learners--a family who lived on my street then, had three children, all of whom I knew well. Ms. Schor had gone to school--college, I imagine--with Mrs. Learner. This talk helped relax me.

All of a sudden, she got very aburupt, and said, "If you don't mind, I am going to be blunt with you. If you don't do something about yourself, you are never going to get anywhere." For what seemed an interminable length of time, she began to belittle everything about me--how I looked, dressed, talked, walked; at one point stating, "When I first saw you out in the lobby, I thought you were a weak, ineffectual kind of guy." I bristeled at that, and lunged in my seat, like I wanted to attack her, which I probably did, then she quickly countered, "Of course, now I can see you are not!" but nevertheless she kept insisiting that was her first impression of me.

At no time were the standard interview questions asked--why do you want to work for this company? Where do you see yourself in five years, etc? I had certainly heard these enough times that I knew to expect them. But when we finished, and I walked out of there, I felt I had been less to a job interview and more to a termination of employment.

I was only 23 at the time, and came out of there like a dog who had just been whipped. When I told my parents, they were clearly upset. At the time, I was enrolled in a job training program; what today would be called career counseling. The rule was if we went on an interview, we had to come back and talk about it. When I told of my experience, the two women who ran the program, looked at each other, went to their offices, and slammed the doors. Apparently, phone calls were being made. I turned out to be right; at a very quiet dinner table that evening, the phone range twice; my mother answered both times, and handed me the line, as they were for me.

The first call came from a man whose name I wish I could remember, but whose titled identity I never forgot--the President of Johnson and Johnson. He profusely appologized to me for my expereince that day, and I listened politely, too young and shaken up to be taken in by the monumentality of what was actually happening. This was followed several minutes later by a tearful Lauren Schor, who clearly had been reprimanded, but who clearly also did not understand the gravity of what she had done. When I countered that I showed up expecting to have an interview, like any other prospective employee, she countered, "Oh, no! I was just doing a favor to your uncle!" An uncle, by the way, who was trash, had a history of spousal abuse, and treated his children so horribly they left home at the first available opportunity. Though some of them took on some of his traits, saying I was too lazy and such because I was having difficulty finding a job, and still living at home with my parents. They were just resentful because I came from and am still from a much higher and educated social class than they!

Shortly after all this, I noticed, my uncle and father had a falling out. They would not speak to each other, and if we were visiting my grandmother, he would not remain in the house in our prsence. Good riddance!!!! I had an idea all along that I was the cause of this falling out, but all I got from my father when I asked, was a tight lipped remark about my uncle--"He's a very ignorant man!!!!!!!!!"

Of couse at the time I had no idea what had taken place. Only after a good 10-15 years had passed, and I was established and on my own--did I realize that the appologies and such stemmed from fear of a lawsuit I could have placed at the time. For, although the terminology was NOT mentioned, what Schor was calling me on was my homosexuality. It was made clear to me--gays were not accepted in coroporate America. So I subsequently said, "Fuck you!" to it, and walked away, longing all the time for acceptance which would have meant more money and such that I deserved, where now I have to compromise so much, because gays are still not truly excepted in corporate America. Which to a degree is why I am a bit heterophobic and misogynistic. And continue to be. Let's face it--if I went for a job at, say, and ad agency or a publishing house, I would NOT be accepted.

I suppose I should resent even the gentleman who posts FCA, as he is probably straight, too. But how can you resent, girls, someone who fundamentally agrees with you. Neverhteless, the consequences of this past expereince of mine still reach out and claw at me. At least my uncle has gone to his reward, which I imagine is a hot, burning one. And I know I am superior to all these people around me, darlings!!!!!

Now, wasn't this a fun bitch session, girls? And so instructive, too!!!!

Girls, You Are Not Going To Believe This!!!!!!!

Darlings, I just took one of those cute little magazine quizzes. This one was from TimeOut New York in relation to Valentine's Day--isn't it interesting how the acronym for that holiday is VD, girls???--and it is entitled "Should You Be Single?" Well, basically I think these things are a crock anyway, so I hunkered down and answered the questions, expecting to hear I should be content with my spinsterhood. At first I was happy, because my results said I should "Grab the first schmuck you find, and get married!" Now, let me tell you, that sounds like my last several attempts at relationships, and we all saw how those went!!!! It has to be a schmuck that I want, and who wants me--I just don't grab folks off the streets, despite what my detractors might say. I mean, with the acme behavior of Miss Porter's????

But wait, there is more. There is a little expanation after the verdict that says, "Because you cannot handle NYC alone."

Excuse me, lambs??? I mean, just what is this blog about??? It is about living the single life in NYC. I have been handling New York, alone, darlings, since I was a child; I mean, I could have played the Jodie Foster role in "Taxi Driver" for heaven's sake!!!!! It just goes to show how these quizzes are a bunch of crock, and while I would like a romantic candlelit dinner with wine and someone on VD day, it looks like I will be stuck cooking for moi and watching--what else?--"Fatal Attraction???" Darlings, when do I get the husband and the house in Great Neck????
Be careful what you wish for, they say??? Well, let me tell you, how do you know what to be careful what you wish for, unless you have the expereince of trying out in terms of getting it????? Huh, girls?????? But let's not be a bitch about it!!!!!

Hope you all had cake and champagne after celebrating Blythe's Day!!! Girls, if we our by ourselves on VDay, let us save some champagne, pour it all over ourselves, and tell us that "We are FABULOUS!"

Assert yourselves, girls!!!!

Happy Birthday, Blythe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, darlings, it is Blythe Danner's birthday today, so let's all have some tea, with cakes and dainties to celebrate this acme of class and glamour. Girls, we should all look as good at 67 as Blythe!!!!!!!!!!

I was such a bitch yesterday, darlings, but sometimes you just have to be. I just got horrible word from my friend Doug that come May 5 he will be out of a job. His hotel is closing down, and I just cannot believe it. Now you know darlings why I am hoping this, and thanks to all my faithful readers out there will propel me into a book and movie deal, so I buy a place back in quiet Bay Ridge, live a life of less stress, and write and get paid for it, lambs!!!!! Who knows if this will transpire, but as I have said I am NOT about to give up now. And you better believe I want Amy Adams to play me--she can do anything, even play a gay man. Hell, it would be easier than playing a straight one!!!!!!

So like I said, no hubby on the horizon, no fame, but we just keep pluggin' along, like "Ol' Man River" in the song. Girls, sometimes this queen feels like OL' Man River.

You will never believe this, girls! My father-in FLA, darlings!--gets sent a note to ME pertaining to some high school reunion. Can you believe that. And we are not even due for one till 2013. The idea is to combine four classes--hell, I knew so few in those other classes, who the hell would I know there? And if any of you think I would meet a husband there, you are full of it!! ME, marry someone who grew up in the town I came to despise, because it would not accept me. That is like a masochist asking for a sadist, and that is NOT ME!!!!

I just cannot get the words to "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" out of my head this morning--"Bang! Bang! Maxwell's Silver Hammer came down on her head/Bang! Bang! Maxwell's Silver Hammer" made sure she was dead!" You all know who I mean, girls--and not just that evil bitch Charlotte Bayes!!!!!!!

But the mood is celebratory, loves, in honor of Blythe, who is still stunning enough to play Truly Scrumptious in "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." So have some cakes and dainties in honor of Blythe, loves!!!!!!!

Love you all, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, It Is Time To Bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

.........And bitch! And bitch! And there is a lot to bitch about, let me tell you. First off, that cute little rodent, the Groundhog, saw his damn shadow, which means we get six more weeks of winter. Too bad the Groundhog didn't do what he did in the past, that is up and bite Mayor Bloomberg somewhere where it will do the most good--like ripping his tongue or vocal cords out!!!!!! Now, do any of you girls on here believe this lovely folk legend about the Groundhog and his shadow? I mean, it is charming, but show me someone who believes this, and I will show you a girl who does NOT need a good cream rinse!!!! Like, no way!!!! I have to palaave every day, darlings, I am telling you!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now the Oscar nominations! First, congratulations to the Divine Miss Meryl Streep, and the Marvelous Mr. Stanley Tucci. We love you, Meryl and Stanley!!!!!
Honey, Stanley's performance was SO chilling that not even I--who love all my serial killers, loves--could sit through "The Lovely Bones" a second time. And speaking of lovely bones, how dare they NOT nominate Miss Amy Adams??? Where is OUR AMY???? She is the freshest, most radiant thing in films, and this is what she gets???? I am sure Meryl would agree with me that Amy should be in the ineup, and that her time is coming. I mean, if it can happen for Sandra Bullock--from "Spped" to this?--it can happen to anyone, and Amy is certainly more gifted than Sandra. And that damn "Avatar" gets nominated for Best Picture; why doesn't James cameron just get his prostate removed and shut up!!!!!! But you know we will be watching and cheering, and you know when I log off here, I have to begin calling designers to line up fittings to see what and whom I am going to wear to this year's Academy Awards. I want to look my best for when Meryl gets her award!!!!!

You know what I can't stand? People who walk down the street, and won't get out of the way? What am I supposed to do? Get out of THEIR way? But, no, they keep barreling along, as if they were going to slam right into you and knock you down. What are they, so entitled? Bitches, don't talk to me about being entitled, because I am! When you see approaching, you get the Hell out of my way but fast, or else I will cut you like a paper shredder. My God, I really am a bitch today!! But we just LOVE it, girls!!!!!!!!

The Groundhog, girls, may be on to something. If I had something big and warm and furry to snuggle down with, I would stay in my hole all winter too, Alas, when one does not have a husband......

Oh, well, today is MERYL and STANLEY;s DAY so let us rejoice in them!!!!!!!

A toast to all, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gonna Take A Sentimental Journey, Gonna Set My Heart At Ease!!!

Darlings, have you ever seen this classic 1946 four handkherchiefer with Maureen O'Hara??? Honestly, girls, some mornings when I am vaccuming I feel just like Maureen, and start singing that song. But would you believe that yesterday I was wailing "Paper Roses," which was done in 1973 by Marie Osmond, and then back in 1960--yes, girls, get ready--Anita Bryant!!!! on her classic debut album "Hear Anita Bryant In Your Home Tonight!" Girls, you may be shocked, but I just loved Anita's wholesome appearance, and those Orange Juice commercials, with Little Orange Bird. Let me tell you, darlings, by the time I found out Anita was an anti-gay bitch whose husband was sneaking around wearing her panties--yes, girls, those panties again!!!!-- we wanted Little Orange Bird to poke Anita's eyes out. Now she's an evangelical lounge singer. And Little Orange Bird is living it up in a Florida condo!!!!!!

So listen to some Anita Bryant, lambs, and see how far we have come, and where vocal music might have ended up if the Beatles had not happened along. And if Anita had not been a big old anti-Gay bitch, she would have been one of the world's greatest Fag Hags!!!!!!!

Fag Hag yourself, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Candlemass Eve, Girls!!!!! Sacrifice A Virgin Tonight, Darlings!!!!!!

Let me tell you, witches these days are having a tough time of it! Where in the world is one supposed to find a virgin??? Even the convents are no guarantee anymore, if indeed they ever were! But meanwhile it is February and what a month--birthdays, feast days, romance (yeah, right!) and then boom, it is gone!

Now, I ask you, girls, where else but here are you going to hear about things like Candlemass Eve? Or the virtues of freeze dried panties???? And let me tell you, that "Silent Screams" book was such fun--classic serial killer stuff with a twist and a tantilizing question that makes things ripe for a sequel--which you know I will read, darlings!!!!!!!!!!

Can you believe that they are going to do "The Miracle Worker" on Broadway? Honey, they tried this before. With that Abagail Breslin trying to do Helen Keller??? Listen, dolls, I am the one to do Helen; my technical resources are equipped for that part, not to mention I could use the work!!!! Miss Breslin, best known for "Little Miss Sunshine," things she can attempt the most difficult child stage role in theater history???? Give me a break! This is why Patty Duke got to play Neely, which you know I am darlings--Neely 0'Hara, the lovable kid from vaudeville, who became a star and a monster! That's me, lambs, a star and a monster!

This monster has to work the graveyard shift tonight, so I have to adjust my make-up, and make sure I am ready for the public. So have a wonderful Candlemass Eve tongiht, everyone, and if you cannot find a virgin to sacrifice, at least cook some dinner with some Extra Virgin Olive Oil!!!!!!!!!!!!

We have made it through another one, loves!!!!!!!!!