Let Me Explain Myself.

OK. The photos from our second party would suggest some things to the uneducated observer.

That I enjoy dressing up in foam rubber and a jolly cap.

That I am a fan of aviator glasses.

That I enjoy being felt up en masse.

That would be somewhat misleading. Let me set the record straight on these controversial issues.

First, the slot machine costume. This was inevitable. I will be starting the day of Halloween somewhere in Las Vegas, after attending the Vegoose music festival. I had talked a good game about "ooh, maybe I should drive back from Vegas in a slot machine outfit" that, when it magically appeared in front of the #22 bus stop, it needed to be bought. There was no debate, no turning back. No, I will not be going to the Castro in it. No, I will not say why.

Second, the aviator glasses are in honor of Fleet Week in San Francisco, and were a concession. Because it was Fleet Week, full of air shows, Judy, Susan, Brynn and John all asked if I was going to wear the Goose costume that I donned at the Tainted Love concert. Considering I needed to drink water for two straight days after doing that, I voted no. Aviators. So hot right now. Aviators.

Now, as for the disproportionate amount of groping that I receive in these photos... well, I like to think that my Bowie-like aura transcends gender. That my Michael Jackson-like moves transcend race. And a fridge full of beer, cabinet full of top-shelf liquor, and laptop full of '80s hits and early-to-mid '90s hip-hop transcend about everything else.

Not that the public will care, when these photos see the light of day during my Congressional campaign. They will see the "Like A Prayer" montage and instead vote Smilowitz into office. You're no fun, 1st District. No fun at all.