Absolutely Fabulous 

Page 4 of 4

Carefully documented by a videographer, the first few hours of the party involved schmoozing, snacking, and drinking. Bordelon, the ultimate hostess, dashed about the conference room welcoming newcomers and chatting up old friends, a potent New Orleans-style Hurricane in her hand.

As show time approached, the Zeau Zeaus began herding the gaggle of women toward the theater. In one final announcement, Bordelon stood on a chair and bellowed, "If anyone can figure out how to get them jugs of margaritas into the theater, come talk to me!"

With their boas flying in the wind, and their cheerful screaming and impromptu dancing, the Ya-Yas made for a colorful procession. Fellow moviegoers eyed them warily, but the Ya-Yas didn't give a damn; they strolled in like royalty, entering the theater with a sense of entitlement.

Meanwhile, Bordelon had hatched a plan. After the lights dimmed, someone brought the jugs of margaritas to a rear exit door, and Bordelon made a mad dash across the theater to retrieve them.

"Leigh takes off, this woman in a flaming red dress," Holly Todd laughingly recalls. "She dashes down the stairs, grabs the buckets of margaritas, holds the jugs, and runs up the stairs. And then you heard someone say, 'Anyone have cups?' And we're filling cups and passing them down the rows. We didn't care if anyone noticed. We're always making a spectacle, being loud -- within some legal limits."

When the titles started rolling, the women began hollering. At every mention of the word "Ya-Ya," the audience yelled back at the screen in glee, as if engaged in a New Age call-and-response.

The highlight of the event came at the end of the evening, during the "Yoscars." After everyone had had her fill of mediocre burritos and tacos at the Mexican restaurant, Jeanne-Marie Carr, a Zeau Zeau from Sacramento, pulled out a Mr. Microphone.

"As you know, there are many characters in the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood," Carr said.

"Ya-Ya!" the audience cried.

Carr waited for the crowd to quiet. "Tonight, I'd like to focus on four main characters created by Rebecca Wells: Teensy, Caro, Necie, and, of course, Vivi. Many of us have bits and pieces of each of these women living inside us. Some parts we share with others. Some we keep as our own divine secrets.

"Over the years I've gotten to know some of you on 'the porch' [the public bulletin board], through snail mail, e-mail, girlfriend gatherings, slumber parties, girls' heart-to-heart talks. Tonight I'd like to present special Yoscars to those I think represent Ya-Ya characters."

A high school teacher, Carr read carefully from a series of 3-by-5 cards, announcing the first three winners with dramatic flair. But she saved the most coveted award -- the Vivi Award -- for last.

"This Ya-Ya is known for her many layers," Carr began. "She's charming, dramatic, tender, and passionate. She'll tell it like it is and see her sisters through thick and thin. On top of all that, she'll do it with style."

Who won the prestigious Vivi Award? Well, Ms. Leigh Bordelon, of course.

Bordelon spends her entire eight-hour workday on a computer, but lured by her love for the Ya-Yas she often returns home to log onto the Internet. Most evenings, her keyboard clicks rapidly as she chats with other Zeau Zeaus on their private Internet bulletin board, "the back porch." Between reading the posts and typing her own, Bordelon often erupts into unexplained and gleeful guffaws; her husband, sitting on the couch a few yards away, just shakes his head.

But with the heat cranked up in her cozy Livermore home one cold January night, Bordelon takes a break from the computer and positions herself on the living room floor with the Zeau Zeau photo album of "divine secrets" spread before her. As she flips through the massive book, she points out her favorite pictures and chuckles at the memory of them.

"Did I tell you about Ya-Ya Photo Shoot Day?" she says, pointing to a few collaged prints. "All of those pictures come from that. We're such crackheads. We were laughing so hard!"

She turns a page. "There's Wy. There's Ame. And Susan. There's one with Rebecca [Wells]." She points to a picture in which she seems to be scaling a BART train's handrail, her back to the camera. "Here I was pole-dancing, and Natalie grabbed my ass."

Suddenly, Bordelon stops, midflip. She remembers a story that she was going to tell before she got distracted with dinner. It's come back to her in a flash, and she's already cackling at the thought of it.

"Oh my God, that's what I was going to tell you!" she cries. "There was this thing on the radio about becoming a minister online. [Dramatic pause.] I did. I am now the Reverend Princess Fed Up to Here! I shit you not. So we're all thinking of becoming reverends; we can be the Royal Priestesses of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Really fucking hilarious. I'm a real bona fide reverend!"

Bordelon flashes her high-wattage grin, as proud as a new convert. "I'm going to start the Church of Leigh," she declares. "It's God above all else, and treat your neighbor as you'd treat yourself -- and then you pretty much hurt nobody. It'll be free flow, free love, fuck everyone else."