After months spent in rehab, I feel it is necessary to share some of my experiences from my time spent in Betty Ford's Clinic for the Criminally Addicted. My darlings, I do this only to show you how far I've come, and just how well-adjusted I am.

For the sake of my art I must insist on offering all the details, no matter how horrifying. As they say in the business, "When I'm good, I'm good. And when I'm bad, send me to rehab cause this shit is going to get ugly..."

.oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo. .oOo.

It’s day 21.

Here are the indisputable facts learnt after spending three weeks in rehab.

One. If you are going to proceed to throw up your entire liquid breakfast (when else do you drink a tequila sunrise if not in the morning?) then darlings be sure to do it a graceful distance from the toilet bowl. Splashback is unbecoming.

Two. My years in Vegas taught me that one can fashion a perfectly passable mid-morning brunch out of cocktail olives and strawberry daiquiri mix. Add a sprig of continental parsley and you have fashioned yourself something that is much akin to a cool summer gazpacho. Hope that your acquaintances are too boozed up to notice.

Three. Never tell your secrets to a drag queen. There’s something unique and mysterious that happens when a man puts on makeup, he suddenly loses inhibitions and a certain sense of morality goes away with it too. Most especially, never share your secrets with a male Tammy Wynette impersonator, unless you want your dirty laundry aired in a tell-all book. Sure, it might have been the real Tammy Wynette whose makeup at that age was reminiscent of the over the top look of a drag queen, but how was I to know?! She wasn’t really that insulted. And you know what Tammy Wynette? Sometimes it IS hard to be a woman, especially if look like you’re a man in drag.