I'M BACK!

My hateful computer died a week ago and I've just gotten it back today. I've been a little suicidal because my hard drive deteriorated and of course, being a world-class procrstinator, I've hardly ever backed up anything. (One funny friend suggested that I approach the department of Homeland Security, since they can retrieve anything.) So I thought I'd drown my sorrows by hitting the town. On Tuesday night, I decided to haul my mangy ass out and pretend that I was still fun. Since HX, the local fag rag, was celebrating their 15 year anniversary with a "three-hour tour" and my friend Bubba de Houston was in town to catch Barbra Streisand the preceding night, we made a long night of it and caught all of the haunts I've been missing on Tuesdays, which seems to be the NYC insider's night to party.

TRAN OVERBOARD: CARMELLA CANN GREETED US IN A SUMPTUOUS FUR, WHICH PROVES NOT ONLY THAT SHE CAN SEW, BUT THAT GLUE TRAPS DO EFFECTIVELY CATCH RODENTS.



HX PUBLISHER MATTHEW BANK WITH SOME UNIDENTIFIED PETER--NOT PETER HEMMEL, HIS HUBBY



HX'S DELIGHTFUL EDITOR TRAY BUTLER (INSERT ASS-LICKING, SLURPING, SUCKING, SCMOOZING SOUND EFFECTS HERE.)



MISSTRESS FORMIKA WITH LUSCIOUS DJ LINA



THIS OLD SCHOOL FAVORITE (WHO WILL KILL ME FOR NOT REMEMBERING HER NAME) DREW CHEERS WITH THIS COMPLICATED VOGUING-UPSIDE-DOWN-IN-A-CHAIR MOVE. UNPERTURBED BY THE MOTION OF THE OCEAN, SHE TOOK TO THE BOAT'S ROCKING LIKE, SHALL WE SAY, A "FISH" TO WATER?



DJ Girlina--oops, I mean Lina! She chopped off the "Gir" when she chopped off her nose--knows just what to play to get my old ass on the floor, spinning such classics as MAW/India's BACKFIRED and Incognito's NIGHTS OVER EGYPT, a cover of The Jones Girls' down-tempo r&b classic. It's so rare to hear good music that in my excitement, I managed to bust one move which dumped the contents of HX publisher Matthew Bank's wineglass all over him and co-owner Mark Berkley. A born networker, I am! Anyhoo, Matthew was looking dynamite having lost 70 pounds, so I daresay he could withstand a wet t-shirt contest. What's a little wine gonna hurt? And that was the least of the evening's drama. As we pulled up to shore, the maitre de' asked me to jump up and entertain for a moment since someone had been punched out and the doors of the boat couldn't be opened until the police arrived. And Miss Flotilla wasn't even on de Barge. (Bubba was running around claiming, in a reference to Flo's recent assault with her deadly high heel, that Flotilla's life story had been optioned by "Spike" Lee.) I'm told the victim was Len Evans, the publicist for recent bashing victim Kevin Aviance--who just appeared on Tyra. (It's on youtube.) HX sure knows how to throw a "bash" and I know I'll be eagerly awaiting the next issue for the scoop on the latest gay beef. Whatever happened to the docile, sissified gays of yesteryear? I guess they got their asses beat so many times that they stay at home now!

THE LOVELY AND SWEET PEPPERMINT WITH HER STUNNING ESCORT



THE HORRID AND EVIL PEPPERMINT AFTER I'D DELIGHTED HER STUNNING ESCORT BY COYLY TWIRLING MY DENTURES ON MY FINGER WHILE SUBTLY BECKONING HIM TOWARDS THE OUTER DECK



THE ALWAYS JOLLY ROBIN BYRD ORDERING ME TO WALK THE PLANK. IS THAT VIDEO CAMERA IN HER HAND AN INDICATION OF NEW SHOWS ON THE WAY?



NO SHORTAGE OF APPETIZERS ON BOARD



THE FAVA BEAN APPETIZER SENT ME INTO A DEMENTED ANTHONY HOPKINS IN SILENCE OF THE LAMBS IMPERSONATION. THE ADMITTEDLY POOR IMPERSONATION (HE'S MUCH YOUNGER THAN I) IMPROVES IMMEASURABLY IF YOU IMAGINE THAT FAMOUS SLITHERING TONGUE SOUND EFFECT.



THOUGH NOTHING ON THE MENU WAS QUITE SO TANTALIZING AS THE TUBE STEAK AND EGGS SERVED BY LUCAS ENTERTAINMENT'S NEW DISCOVERY, BEN ANDREWS. AND SO FILLING, TOO!



PERHAPS YOU WON'T NOTICE THAT MY MUG IS GREASIER THAN A MECHANIC'S AT QUITTING TIME IF I IMMEDIATELY OFFER YOU A FULL-LENGTH SNAP OF THE IMPRESSIVE ANDREWS FAMILY JEWELS. NOW YOU KNOW WHAT TO GET ME FOR XMAS!



BEN'S FACE AIN'T TOO BAD EITHER, AS SEEN HERE WITH BUBBA AND HIS BIG BOSS MAN MICHAEL LUCAS.



LUCKY FOR BEN, I HAD ALREADY SET MY SIGHTS ON THIS INTOXICATING TWO-FISTER BEHIND THE BAR.



IF YOU SQUINT, YOU CAN SEE LADY LIBERTY BEHIND LADY LIBATED.



THEN IT WAS OFF TO BEIGE, ERICH CONRAD'S STILL PACKED WEEKLY AFFAIR. KUDOS TO ERICH FOR BEIGE AND HIS SUNDAYS AT MARITIME, AND FOR ANSWERING HIS PHONE WHEN I CALLED TO MAKE A RESERVATION WITH A CHEERY "JIHAD." SEEN HERE BLITHERING DRUNK WITH PHOTOG JOSH JORDAN, ERICH, AND JIMMY JAMES. AT THIS POINT, I'M CHANNELING LEONA HELMSLEY.



I AM CERTAIN THAT MOST OF THE CLASSY READERS OF MY BLOG WILL WANT TO IGNORE THIS PHOTO OF SUPREME MALE BEAUTY, BUT I"LL LEAVE IT UP TO APPEASE ANY TRASH WHO MAY HAVE ACCIDENTALLY FOUND THEIR WAY TO MY SITE.



NO, I DIDN'T DO A COSTUME CHANGE AT BEIGE. THIS BUXOM BEAUTY IS EGYPTIAN TEMPTRESS SULTANA, "RAISIN" HELL!



AFTER AMUSING MICHAEL LUCAS BY SCRATCHING MY PHONE # ONTO A NAPKIN FOR THE BATHROOM ATTENDANT--HEY WE CAN'T ALL BE HIGH CLASS HOOKERS!--SOMEHOW WE MADE IT TO SUZANNE BARTSCH'S HAPPY VALLEY, WHERE WE RAN INTO MY ASIAN TWIN JUN AND EXOTIC BEAUTY KAYVON.



THEN IT WAS ONTO THE COCK FOR THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS MONA FOORT'S B'DAY. MONA WAS GONE, BUT THE COCK WAS GOING STRONG. BY THE WAY, THE COCK'S MOVED INTO THE HOLE! THE REST OF THE NIGHT WAS A BLUR OF HOLOGRAPHIC SEQUINS IN TOILET STALLS. AH, THE GLAMOUR OF IT ALL! COMING UP NEXT WEEK, A TOUR OF MANHATTAN'S EMERGENCY ROOMS.