Nelson drove up, and Craig and I hitched a ride. The guys up front talked philosophy and angst and artsy-fartsy stuff, and I took a nap in the back seat. Nelson wanted to go up early to fix Molly's car - I've never seen him actually fix anything, but he takes things apart pretty well. We got there around five or so, and Craig, Nelson and Leo went to the carport, later bragging about how they'd disconnected and reconnected the computer plugs. Hardly rocket science.

While they were doing that I was upstairs helping Danielle, the Birthday Girl, tape her breasts to get some cleavage. That is closer to rocket science and doesn't get your hands dirty. Her friend Camille was up there curling her long dark hair. She said she was a D-cup and didn't need tape but wouldn't show me. I'm not all that familiar with bra sizes and just wanted a couple of examples. Anyway Camille wanted me to guess the color of her skivvies. So for the next four or five hours while she continued to curl her hair I proffered guesses and finally asked her to show me those, which she also refused to do. Ultimately I discovered they were lavender but that's another story...

While I was upstairs assisting the ladies, more men were arriving. Jason, John (with Brigette) - photographers. Vince, Jonathon, etc.etc. etc. etc. - friends of Danielle. Jonathon brought some Bulgarian progammers with, including Sibila and a kid with a ponytail. Ian Hard, Tudor and his doll Dana (pronounced something like "donut" without the "t.") Don't know how Tudor, the Tattooed Rumanian Strong Man, ever scored a babe like Dana, but he's got to have concealed assets or something. Dana's seventeen-year-old niece was there,who, for the record, will turn eighteen in a month. Molly read Monica's directionless post below and called her. Monica, who had failed to open the invitation, apparently didn't know where to go. Molly told her. And another call came from Robin after the party started, to say she was in Ventura and would be right over after she stopped in Hollywood to change and put on makeup. She was driving that incurable romantic, Robert Bruce Duncan, down from Santa Barbara, so the poor bastard would have to sit there smoking, watching Robin pucker up and do makeup for a few hours. I didn't envy him.

In the mean time there was food. Lots of food. Everywhere. And beer. Craig brought some of that Israeli beer, Macabees. He brought a six-pack, but I know for a fact I had four, Nelson had four, Craig had at least three and other people were pulling them out of the cooler. Seems the beer had some properties similar to their consecrated oil. Amazing value for the price.

Around nine, Molly organized busloads to go over to the club for the second half of the festivities, which were to be comprised of dancing like fools and drinking themselves into that condition. Nelson went along as he's a wannabe club kid, but I stayed back with Craig and Jason, still sucking down Macabees, waiting for the errant Monica and Robin/Bruce to show. Seems there was a coordination screwup. Seems like there were several. I won't even try to be sequential here, but Monica showed up at the club, the venue of clubs changed to another entirely different place, Robin/Bruce went directly to the original club on advice of Monica to find no one there, then came looking for the three of us who were waiting on the street (thus away from the phone), etc. They showed up and we all climbed into the White Elephant and drove to the second replacement venue. Robin was spitting tacks, though it seemed to me if she'd been on time the wasted entry fee wouldn't have happened and she'd have not had to drive all over L.A. and Orange Counties.

Got to the second venue. Long line and we all got separated. The crew from the party consisted of many very nice-looking young people and several elders, who may have looked to the crowd like voyeuristic babysitters. Nelson had his head shaved and was elbowing his way everywhere after bluffing his way in as a "photographer." Dani danced with everyone - well most everyone - not me. And after the help I gave her with her breasts and all. I didn't see the incident, but it seems Monica and Camille got ejected after one of them (who, depends on who told the story) called a bouncer an "asshole." Smokers and old folks ended up on the smoking patio. I did too mostly, though I'm much younger than most of those people. I hit on Dana. (Tudor laughed.) And Robin. (Robin laughed.) And some local girls wearing green leis. (They laughed.) Eventually around one o'clock through another miracle of organization, the party disbanded and reformed back at Danielle's/Molly's house, with the smokers, in the majority now, on the balcony. Did I mention the four cop cars full of uniforms that decided Jason was a prowler?

And the talk went on. Robin got sick so while Nelson was running around looking for Tums I put her to bed. Then Camille drifted upstairs to go to bed too. This girl is a pale beautiful babe with long dark curly (I think I explained that earlier) hair. She washed off her eyebrows and also went to bed. So I had to go back downstairs and put up with Bruce's romantic yearnings, Leo's desperate search for understanding, Craig's angst and circular descriptions of what may or may not be going on inside his head, and Nelson's stuffy pontifications about the high meaning of art and shit like that. Until five-thirty, when someone decided Robin had to be wakened to get Robert Bruce on the road and the San Diego contingent too. I got elected because I have pretty good babe-waking credentials, but I didn't know what Robin was like upon being prematurely wakened. Anything before 2 PM being premature, I guess. How anyone can look that good upon waking and still be that nasty is unbelievable. Molly was saying stuff about no more parties - ever. Never. But she remained the gracious hostess through all this.

Eventually everyone was on the road that had to get on the road and I listened to Craig and Nelson for long enough to put me to sleep. Somewhere before Disneyland I'm sure. Anyway, a fine time was had by all of them, and I guess it beat staying home and washing the sedan. Actually it was great to see that many wonderfully dysfunctional people all in one place simply enjoying each other. And drinking.

-Fran Bilder

Private Photographer