Wednesday, July 7, 2010

If you want an omelette, you've got to break a few legs...

Oh darlings. What a horror week I have had.

To start with, I had a frightful weekend of traveling and touring that sent me positively around the bend and left me with a cold big enough to slay a walrus. Not a mild-mannered Antarctic walrus. Oh no. Rather, one of those cocktail-weiner-guzzling, buffet-frequenting resort walruses that one finds in all the worst hotels. It takes a decent shot of tranquilizers to knock down a swamp-donkey of that size.

Oh but I digress! My pained throat. I had a dreadful time trying to sing my way through the American Songbook at Vinny's Diner the other night. A chesty voice on a woman of my young years is just not becoming. If it hasn't worked for that talentless hack Liza, goodness knows why it would work for me.

But I have pushed through, with a resolve that can only be described as heroic, and I feel I must be on the mend. Notwithstanding my gargantuan hangover (let's just say Ms. Von Teese wasn't the only one swimming in martinis last night), I feel alright. Give me a whiskey throw-down and I'll be ready to go on stage once more.


Ugh. I think I just coughed up a swizzle stick.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Another opening, another show

This evening I performed a show in what can only be described as Hicksville, Tennessee. A short drive off the interstate, the venue was completely lacklustre, with a rodent infestation to rival ancient Egypt, and a hick infestation to match.

I opened with my usual repartee, sang a few showtunes from my eighth album, and then clinched the deal with a fabulous closing number (alluding to no fewer than three of my international sell-out tour performances).

Whilst I cannot say the crowd was utterly understanding of my unique brand of art, it was only their loss. Mine is an art that transcends genres, generations and state penitentiary lines.

I did also see a bar fire that began with an argument over the ownership of a glass eye.

Alas, Kurt's Steak Hut suffers from the same problem that plagues the more remote towns around these parts - a surfeit of glass eyes and a dearth of fire exits...

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

You can't spell "beginnings" without "gin"

In preparation for my next big show I've decided to start sharing my words, my thoughts, my ideas and my violent hangovers with you all.

Think of it as a form of therapy.

For you.

You see, darlings, life is one constant journey of self-discovery and self-repair. From the first awful break-up, to the discovery of the glass coffee table you broke last night in your gin-induced hysteria (and its subsequent repair). The only hope we may hold is that this journey is shared with friends.

Failing that, we shall share it with whichever two-bit-Johnnies walk our way.

And I look to you, sweet darlings, to be those two-bit-Johnnies. We shall sweep up the detritus of our lives together, creating new beginnings and new hope as we each rise like the proverbial phoenixes that we are, up and out of the (cigarette) ashes, in the hope that one day someone better will come along and take us away.

Until that day, all we have is each other. What a great partnership it shall make! Two lonely stars in search of an answer. And one of those stars needs a bloody drink...

It's time to sparkle darlings!