Hello gentle Americans.  Yesterday I arrived in PTOWN with a limo filled with all my belongings.  Dresses, jewelry, casual cloths, wigs, make-up and heels filled the black stretch limonene to capacity.   A darling friend of mine owns a car company and graciously lent me that gas-guzzling beast otherwise I would have had to ship everything and who has the patience for that?

Arriving into town my heart warmed a bit I looked upon the Pilgrims Monument jutting proudly in the sky.  I did a silent pray as I gazed upon its grey majestic brick structure that went something like this:

Dear being of a greater nature (I hate the word God) please make my show ‘EAT ME!’ a huge financial success.  May the weather stay warm and sunny. May the fudge (which the town is known for) be rich and delicious.  May the men find me irresistible, allowing me the pick of the litter for my carnal desires.  May the ghost of Michael Jackson stop visiting me in the middle of the night and doing a moonwalk on top of my bed (odd as it may seem Mr. Jackson has appeared 3 times thus far, but I will tell you that story later) and may my breasts stay firm and high never sagging towards my nuts.  Oh, and let there be world peace.  Amen.

Deciding to jump right into the fray I signed up to do Show Girls last night.  Show Girls is a weekly event, led by Ryan Landry, where the towns performers get to present and showcase their latest numbers, song or routines for a packed house, promoting whatever show they may be doing.  I choose to do it for that reason and also to find out the local gossip and who has a bone to pick with you even before your high-heeled feet even hits the pavement.  I rather know who hates me at the beginning for the season so I can at least prepare myself when they sneer in my direction.

What I did find out was that the Owner of the Provincetown Gym wouldn’t let me hang my posters up at his fine establishment because I supposedly slighted him last season.  Racking my brain, desperately trying to figure out what I could have done, I came up with nothing.  That does not mean I did nothing it just means I don’t remember.  My feeling is if you if you been in this town long enough you are bound to piss somebody off.  My plan of action is to go to the gym and apologize for what ever wrong ding I may have done; perhaps bring an offering of good faith like box of fudge or perhaps even better a tub of Boy Butter?  I will keep you posted.

Stay fresh,

x

Hello gentle Americans. Gay pride has come and gone, but not for some.  As I was on the way to the Coffee Shop this morning I strode by a middle aged man passed out on the sidewalk, propped up against a brick wall.  He was shirtless, wearing a pair of bright orange hot shorts, holding a gay pride flag in his hand with and empty 40 next to him.  Though he did have a content look on his face, one that said, “I may be pissed drunk and passed out at 8:30 in the morning but boy did I live last night!”

The autopsy report is in: Michael Jackson had no food in his stomach only pills.  Darling if you were to cut open half the girls in NYC you would find the same thing.  I bet Anna Wintour (editor of Vogue) has a cup of coffee, a tic tac and some speed in her stomach.  Mr. Jackson was on to the greatest diet plan in the world-Pills! So a big fuck you to Jenny Craig!

Today I am on the road all day. Traveling from NYC to Province Town (A small fishing village off the coast of Boston) where I will be doing my show, ‘EAT ME!’ all summer long.   ‘EAT ME!’ opens July 2nd and I am sure it will be a smashing success.  I have written 6 new songs with some brand new comedy inbetween. If you have to be in the neighborhood just stop by and say, “Hi!”

Stay fresh,

X