Oh, Miami, oh South Beach.

Now back in New York, awaiting the snow. Still thinking of White Party, that weeklong bacchanal. What's more fun than sneaking away from Manhattan's ambition and playing with the boys?

We did the whole thing; we ran the marathon from the VIP at the Delano right through to Victor at Crobar. Our third White Party week, our first VIP White Knights party -- and it was a fun kick-off at the Delano with Bambi La Fleur singing jazzy cabaret stuff and the Dolce & Gabbana boys parading their wares -- and canapes on the lawn and open bar. Welcome to South Beach.

Then China Grill with Alyson, and it was worth a walk in, just to see, but really, no, this party wasn't kicking it the way it might have. And then, Turkey Day with Roland at Billboard, but the upstairs was closed and so was the outdoors, presumably to make the place seem more crowded, but Roland was having fun. (When doesn't he?) And then Friday's Pool Party with Keana, but 1500 Ocean Drive was shadowing the pool, so the sun was in hiding. At least there was fresh papaya on tables scattered around the Royal Palm -- and floatable toys, perfect for stealing for hostess gifts and bathtubs.

An aside: the whole week was about swag. So many goodie bags and stuff and our baggage was crammed with cologne samples and creams and necklaces and chains and t-shirts and condoms and lotions and CDs and toys and handcuffs...

Finally, on Friday night, the week really kicks into gear. Too bad about the cold front -- but on the dance floor at the Seaquarium, you didn't feel anything but heat. And then, every so often, a breeze wafting over your head. So it was like: warm at the groin, and cool at the head. And Tracy had that galloping thing going and the boys were following her lead, and there were white fox coats and beaver coats and stoles and shrugs and they would brush by you and you'd ruffle the fur and feel warm.

And unlike last year's Seaquarium, we didn't witness any alarming fall-outs, which, last year, freaked us out so much, and leaving at four a.m. this year, we buzzed by the MedEvent tent -- and there was only one occupied chair. So maybe the message is out: we're smarter than we look.

Then Saturday's Muscle Beach which was the best beach party of the White Party weeks we've attended. Fabric palm trees and scrims of painted torsos and quads and body beautiful. And David Knapp at the helm and the boys responding and even the tourists lining the lifeguard stations grooving to his beats.

From there to Rize/Maze which was, predictably, packed by the time we got there at one-thirty with our entourage who seemed positively lackadaisical about the whole evening -- until we walked in and the energy took them over. Dancing boys, but alas, no show.

And this was the recurring question for us all week: Where's Kitty and Power and Abel?

And the answer: the three of them appearing at Space on Monday morn at three a.m. until.

Which was not a CareResource-sanctioned event, and so, we could only surmise that something was amiss between the powers that be and our favorite divas and local deejay.

The dirt? Please reveal. As much fun as the week was, the presences of Kitty and Power and Abel were SORELY missed.

Please: BRING ALL THREE OF THEM BACK. Make sure they are all three at WINTERPARTY. South Beach needs their energy.

Okay, back to our report.

Sunday at Vizcaya. This was our third time at Vizcaya. This time without my mother (who fell into a k-hole last year, but I digress....). So without having to chaperone, we were free to wander and mingle and photo-op. Just when you think you've become jaded about parties, along comes Vizcaya. A movie in real life. Your life as the great Gatsby. A trip back in time. There's nothing else like wandering these grounds with everyone dressed as their inner angel. Bad angels dropped to earth for a cocktail party. What to do but marvel at the breadth of imagination when people are given scissors and materials to create their own angel outfits? Photos capture but a portion of this event. It's a testament to human creativity.

And finally -- whew, we made it, again, at last -- Victor at Crobar. Packed, big surprise. He's on, big surprise. The boys love him, big surprise. The club is nonpareil, big surprise. And it's still amazingly fun and incredible and impossible to leave because what is not to love about moving to Victor's beats in a setting like this with so many beautiful people intent on catching his rhythms and having fun.

We had to rest on Monday. We had to leave it at that. We had to walk out of Victor's at four a.m. and eat at Jerry's and start our return to reality.

But running away to the Miami Circus -- there's never anything like it for us.

Thanks to all who made it so much fun, participants and organizers.