Hello gentle Americans. I feel a bit slothful. I am on a work/vacation in New Orleans and I have not taken the time to write. Somewhere in my head I feel that a writer does not take a day off from his craft whether on vacation or not. So I am writing.

I came here to work at club Voila and thought what a crime it would be not to stay on a few days and see this amazing city. As I am writing this I am full beyond belief, my stomach distended from a day filled with oysters, gumbo, muffalettos, home made chocolate pudding and many other delicious delights. Mixing all these different foods in my tender stomach are a volatile combination making GAS-X a close and dear friend.
I arrived on Thursday and in the two full days I have been here I seen so much of this beautiful city-from the sensual French Quarter, the boisterous drunken charm of Bourbon Street, the silent mournful wreckage left by Hurricane Katrina and within that destruction pockets of hope sprouting like daisy’s from the cracked pavement, the seedy smoky gay bars-even having an incredible lap dance by a paid professional, who soon became very unprofessional, and began making out with me. I did not object.

It is a place to drink and escape and a place to connect and be present. I am getting to heady for my own good and my stomach is still aching from today’s onslaught of regional delicacies. Basically I would like to puke and reboot.

The show at club Voila went without a hitch and my hosts Thomas and Steven, including the management were a pleasure to deal with. I snapped some shots of the event at club Voila so you can catch a glimpse of the action.

On stage at VOILA!

My hosts: Steven and Thomas

Princess Stephanie

Hello gentle Americans. I had one of the best New Years in a long time, celebrating the big moment with a special screening of Xanadu, the 1980 classic camp musical starring Olivia Newton John.

It was a packed theater filled with revelers and I would like to share some special pictures that were snapped during the evening.

I won’t be blogging for the next few days as I am off to lovely New Orleans to entertain the gays. Check in with me on Tuesday.

Stay fresh,

x
Hedda Lettuce

Hello gentle Americans. Last night I saw the movie The Wrestler. It was a lackluster picture where every turn was predictable and a tad maudlin, but Mickey Rourke’s dead on performance was the glue that held it together.

Though while watching I was mesmerized by Mr. Rourke’s distorted face adorned with long blond locks, it had a familiar quality to it, and than it dawned on me: He looks like Kathleen Turner! Take a look at the pics below and tell me what you think.

Mickey Rourke

If there is a sequel to The Wrestler please hire Kathleen Turner or at the very least as Mickey Rourke’s body double.

Stay fresh,

x

Hedda Lettuce

Hello gentle Americans. Something happened during my final show at the Metropolitan Room that I have been reticent to speak of. But I think in order to get passed the awkward situation that occurred I must unload it here, in my blog.

It happened during the first ten minutes of my show, where I do my audience improv work. I talk to various people and ask them questions, which usually lead to extremely funny scenarios. I was on a roll while chatting with this woman when it overtook me, the most horrible smell and it was than that I realized someone in the front row had farted. And not just farted they released an act of bio terrorism on the theater that I think the Hamas would have been proud of. This heavy stench cloud lingered in the air, literally knocking me off my feet and I had to use the piano as a brace to keep myself from dropping to my knees. It was as if someone shoved a pound of poo up my nose; my stomach began to churn as I looked out into the audience to see who the culprit could have been all the while trying to remain in control.

This ferocious fart was also attacking several audience members, their heads slightly lowered as they itched their noses. I was being upstaged by someone’s nasty bodily function and instead of acknowledging it or making a joke about it I thought the better idea would be to continue on with my comedy as if nothing ever happened. Which I did, with minor difficulty. Denial is a very powerful tool.

At the end of the show, as I greeted people, I looked into their eyes hoping to discover the farter. But the farter was obviously a pro and did not let on. Occasionally throughout my day I will get whiff of the stench, as if there were fart fragments still lodged in my nose, reminding me of that horrendous experience. But I am prepared now; at the beginning of my shows I have the announcer say: No cell phones, flash photography or farting allowed in the theater. It seems to have worked.

Stay fresh,

X
Hedda Lettuce

Hello gentle Americans. Tonight was my final show at the Metropolitan Room and I am a bit saddened.

Lettuce Rejoice was a huge success, more than I could have anticipated, and I want to thank the fans who made this all possible. Without you, your love, support and your $20 bucks it could have ended up being such a sad holiday. I would especially like to my sponsors: Steel Gym, HX Magazine and Boy Butter.

To show you my thanks I would like to share some wonderful photo’s my dear friend Amber snapped of me in action.