Merriment at Ida Mae's

(Daphne and Pinkie sharing the limelight at Ida Mae's)

Those divine hosts, Gene and Ida Mae Boozer, threw one of their infamous pool parties this past weekend out at their country estate in Brassytown. I hadn't been to one of their orgiastic bashes since the holidays, so Pinkie, DJ and I grabbed our passports and hit the road for some OTP (outside the perimeter) excitement.

We knew that we had made the right decision to attend when we were greeted at the gate by none other than Miss Glow 2003, Wanda Peters. She and Gene were hanging out on the deck, talking to their friend Bob. So, Pinkie and I left DJ there while we headed to the Coke room to fix some much-needed cocktails. Girls, it's not what you think! Gene and Ida Mae have an extensive Coca Cola collection. What kind of party do you think I would go to? Wait, don't answer that!

The vodka hit my bloodstream just in time for the resplendent Ida Mae to make her grand entrance. Upon seeing I had arrived, Ida threw herself prostrate on the floor and wept, "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy!" As charming as that demonstration was, I insisted that Ida keep the idol worship to a minimum and get back on her delicate yet sizeable feet. After all, she proved repeatedly throughout the evening that she most assuredly IS worthy as she enchanted the guests with one fabulous costume change after another.

Despite the drizzly day, it turned out to be a lovely evening. Several of the boys decided to doff their swimsuits and jump in the hot tub. I didn't want to disappoint those eager studs, so I friskily hopped into that man stew and splashed around with a few of the more lithesome lads.

At most parties that I've been to, I've noticed that the guests tend to congregate in the kitchen. (Yes, guests other than Pinkie!) However, at Gene and Ida Mae's, everyone seemed to be attracted to the play den. I wonder if I can get a nice sling at Ikea for my pad! Apparently it's just the thing to spice up a gathering. Can't you just picture Peggy and I whipping out the hot glue guns and jazzing up those leather straps with some jewels and glitter?

Alas, even the most well-stocked bar eventually yields to the onslaught that is Daphne on a bender. Glaring through the bottom of an empty vodka bottle, I spied Pinkie standing forlornly over the empty buffet table. Realizing we had cleaned out our gracious hosts, Pinkie and I gathered DJ up from the nature trail and hopped back in the Pussy Wagon on our way back to civilization.

Thanks again for the lovely evening, Gene and Ida Mae. If you find a pair of leather studded bikini bottoms at the bottom of the hot tub, just drop them in the mail.

Smooches,
Daphne Ruth Jenkins