The wind is howling through the rigging tonight. Last night, the wind was fierce, and the boat rocked against its mooring lines. I like it when it's windy like that--the boat becomes a giant cradle and I can regress back into childhood and dream of teddy bears and dolls and that duck costume my mother used to make me wear to church as punishment for lying. New Year's Day is a time of reminiscence, and I have much to remember.

Last night, I decided to stay home for New Year's Eve. Instead of going out and fighting the crowds for a swallow of cheap champagne at midnight, I carried a blanket and some good Champagne up on deck and sat under the stars, in the glow of the lights I'd run up the mast to lend a little holiday glow to the marina. Living on the biggest boat in the harbor, I see it as my duty to lead the way, spirit-wise, but avoid ostentation. My holiday decorations consisted of a tasteful string of white lights outlining the shape of sails, and then, atop the mast, a flashing sign reading THIS IS THE BIGGEST BOAT IN THE HARBOR. I thought about adding an exclamation point, but in the end, thought it smacked of the nouveau-riche.

Despite gale force winds, my New Year's Eve under the lights was peaceable. I had a pen and notepad with me, to enumerate perceived slights of the year past. I have a long memory. It's a long list, starting with the short-sighted bitch who failed to cast me as the lead in Showgirls, and ending with the owners of the top ten most irritating vanity license plates I see on my daily commute. Go ahead: call me petty. I'll just add you to the list. You can add me to yours--we'll call it even.

I won't lie--it got a little lonely around 8:45, so I started calling friends and family on the East Coast. In retrospect, that wasn't such a good idea. I mean well, but my conversation always comes back around to Showgirls.

The thing is, it's totally unfair that I was passed over for that role. Did you see my audition tape? What am I saying? Of course you didn't. It was genius, and all my idea to deviate from the script and perform a monologue of my own creation.

"I'm tough but fair, and I dance like a demon, a DEMON, do you hear that, Mister Show Director?" That was my opening line. I felt it was smart to open strong, with a lot of hand gestures and fringe. "A DEEEEMON!" And then the dance I created to the tune of "Street Life" --I wasn't able to find a recording of the song, but I think my singing only added to the power of my performance.

Street life! It's the only life I know [kick, ball, turn]
Street life... yadda dada dada know [clap!]
Street life! [turn] For a nickel, for a dime [swivel]
Street life! And you always have the time [splits]
Street life! [Jazz hands, big finish!]

It was genius. A little slice of heaven. Like a genius demon with glittery horns I made myself from empty toilet paper rolls.

And yet, they failed to cast me in favor of Elizabeth Berkeley, who dances like a praying mantis with an unchecked mood disorder. Oh, sure, I watched the film. I watch it every year at New Year's time, pacing around my boat in a g-string and false eyelashes, re-imagining the glorious scenes from "Goddess," the fictitious dance revue that Elizabeth Berkeley's character joins and eventually dominates. I don't want to brag on myself, but my version? It's so much better. It takes place not at the foot of a volcano, as in the movie, but at sea, on a beautiful, giant yacht with the words �THIS IS THE BIGGEST YACHT IN THE SEA� spelled out in white lights atop the mizzenmast. The stars of this revue are Sea Goddess (played by me) and King Poseidon (played by Johnny Depp, in his first all-dancing role) and several nymphs, let�s say thirty or forty of them. I have cut out most of the pointless lap-dancing scenes in favor of baton-twirling, which I excel at, and making-out with my co-star, which I also excel at.

It is a beautiful story, and I dream of filming it and finding international distribution and, shortly thereafter, worldwide fame.

Just a little dream for the new year. May your dreams be as beautiful.

Star of the day. . .Loni Anderson