I am recovered from yesterday's Jour de WTF, thanks to a lot of high-quality vodka, some Triscuits, and the good, good love of you good, good people. Yesterday's whirlpool of self-doubt has petered out, leaving me bobbing around in the ...sparkling …bay of ...mid-range contentment, and YES! another perfect metaphor from your host, Violet of the Pacific.

So… in the absence of a coherent entry, here are a couple of things on my mind today:

Is there a reason that so many burlesque girls incorporate “von” in their names? Is there something specifically Germanic about this art form, or is “von” just the new “de,” as far as swanky stage names? Ja, ich bin hopelessly behind the trends, but you already knew that. I did, however, once try to start “von der” instead of “Mc” in the sarcastic name Olympics, but it faded to little acclaim.

It is once again time for Performance Outfit Anxiety Corner! I have several options for our next show, all of which I will reject, reconsider, and finally abandon in favor of some unlikely combination involving an all-black ensemble and very high heels. Witness the drama! Or, you know, don’t.

The mystery lady, standing near my desk, looking through a binder. Who are you, mystery lady, and why are you carrying a tape measure? There. I just stuck out my tongue at her back. That’ll show her.