Today, I voted for Teddy Kennedy.

When you live in Massachusetts you vote for Ted Kennedy. It's the rule. I'm not joking. In all the talk of the governor's race (which 45 minutes after poll-closing has Patrick the Dem over Healey the Rep, doggystyle), I never once even HEARD that Kennedy's Senate seat was up for vote…uh, reapproval.

I turned Prep in fourth grade and Republican in sixth. I'd name every essay in P.J. O'Rourke's Republican Party Reptile, in order. I wrote-in the presidents I wanted — Jack Kemp the first time and E. Dole the second — but doggedly stuck to my party. I made campaign calls for Bruce Herschensohn. But now I'm so ashamed of my party, its So-Called Christians and the like that I hung my head and did the obvious: voted Kennedy

I voted as Democrat as one can possibly vote. I am now a New Englander, a Massachusettsian, a Masshole. Yet, even with all these descriptors, I don't know who I am anymore.

Oh yeah! I'm the bee-yotch whose funny new play, “Lindsay Lohan's Birkin,” is going to be the hit of Forbes Library Coolidge Room tomorrow night! Can I hear an A-men!