shameless self-promotion

I don't know if anyone still comes here. It feels kind of like a boarded-up diner in here, but I still can't rid myself of it entirely. Oh, the times that were had at The Burlesque. They'll write songs about us one day...

In any case, for the few (if any?) who come here, I now post more regularly (and by "regularly" I mean "once a month") at coucousalut(dot)blogspot(dot)com. I have a twitter account too, but I haven't quite worked that into my repetoire yet.

Oh yeah, and I have an etsy site now...coucousalut(dot)etsy(dot)com. Those are my little stuffed guys, grinning at your from bottom row center, above. I finally managed to do what I've been talking about since the start of this whole thing - open an online shop.

To those who are reading this - hi - I've missed you. We should talk soon.

coucou, salut!

Pssst...

www.coucousalut.blogspot.com

I heart Michael Cera

Last night, I saw Michael Cera!

Live! In person! On the street!

Seriously, need I say more?

He was with Kat Dennings, filming a scene from the upcoming film, "Nick and Norah".

But that's not the point.

The point is that I saw Michael Cera!

oh, Miranda

Ok, I totally just cheated. If you miss a day, can you post twice in one day? Is that acceptable? And can you post an image if you have nothing to say?

Oh whatever, it's not like anyone is actually watching, right?

Right?

the sick menu

When I'm sick, I instantly revert to being 7 years old.

I crave nothing more than to stay in my pajamas all day, put on some knee socks, wrap myself up in a blanket, and settle in for a long day of terrible (yet educational) daytime tv. The only thing lacking from this pathetic little tableau is my wonderful Mother, who can't always be here when I'm sick. Not to mention the fact that I'm 29 years old, not 7, and I'm sure she has better things to do with her time than rent me movies.

So, without my Mom to supply me with chicken soup on demand, I've been forced to fend for myself, food-wise. Thus - in order to keep my energy levels high - I require good old, nostalgic comfort food.

Whenever my Mom gets a stomach ache, she needs a McDonald's strawberry milkshake - no other milkshake will do. Most people consume copious amounts of orange juice. I know a few people who go down the hot lemon and honey road. And yet others who need toast.

For me, the comfort food list is as follows (in no particular order):

• hominy corn with butter
• soft-boiled eggs, or eggs on toast
  
• Campbell's canned chicken soup
• toast with jam
• orange juice mixed with ginger-ale
• cinnamon toast (toast with butter, cinnamon and sugar)
• cantaloupe and/or honeydew melon

And now that I've exhausted my mental capacity for one day, I'm off to pour myself a big ol' glass of orange juice and ginger-ale.

NaBloPoMo

I'm a few days late, but thought I would give the whole blog-a-day thing a go.

I'm currently under the weather with a nasty cold, so I thought I would start out with the not-really-cheating-but-sort-of "hey, I'm participating in NaBloPoMo!" blog.

Here goes nothing.

Ed is the new Nathan

While I was living in London, I would get my hair cut at a place called Stamp, on Bethnal Green Road. My stylist was Nathan, a very quiet man with a bad-ass anchor tattoo, who regularly sported very tight acid-wash jeans.

I loved him.

In going to Stamp, it was not unusual for me to have to endure a two-hour sitting, because if Nathan was one thing, he was METICULOUS. He would literally trim individual hairs while cutting my bangs, and wouldn't stop until they were PERFECT.

Nathan was a bit of an odd duck. I remember one time when he accidentally cut his finger while trimming my hair, and proceeded to bleed into a kleenex for the duration of my cut. It sounds gross, I know, but there was something so sweet and slightly awkward about him that I actually felt kinda sorry for the guy.

I can report that although Nathan was injured in the process, the haircut turned out beautifully. And I probably gave him a good tip.

In the end, leaving London meant breaking up with Nathan, and enduring a year of mediocre haircuts. It wasn't until today, when I ventured out to Hair Metal salon, that everything changed. Not only was Ed completely adorable, he managed to give me a variation on my favorite Nigel haircut, without me even needing to ask for it.

And as you can see from the below picture, I'm totally going to fuzz Ed's handiwork all up because I'm a mad fidget. But, it still looks great, and I'm pleased as punch.

the show must go on

I think it's time to bring the burlesque back.

I'm not sure what happened when I moved to New York, but the excitement and chaos of it all just gripped me, and I just haven't been able to put anything meaningful into words.

I've debated taking it down all together, toyed with starting up again elsewhere. But there's something about that first little corner of the internet that you occupy that just feels so comfortable. So, in a manner not unlike me - the girl who personifies everything - I just couldn't abandon the burlesque. The internet would eat her alive.

And now that I've been a resident of NY for a year (Happy Anniversary to me!), and it looks like I'll be hanging around for at least a little while longer, I'm really starting to miss writing. And creativity in general.

Things have been kind of crazy, but I think they're going to start settling down a bit (as much as life in New York will allow), and I want to get back to writing regular posts. I need (on so many levels) to start responding to all of the daily inspiration that surrounds me.

So, that said.

I'm back.