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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Throats slashed

Someone is frying fish and it stinks.

I got a gift certificate to the Burke Williams spa for my birthday, and today I went in for a facial and an eyebrow wax.

Burke Williams is this giant place, with showers and steam rooms and jacuzzis and all that jazz, and I was nervous to have an impersonal experience. But I did not. The aesthetician was awesome, and my skin is radiant. I am not kidding about this. I am most certainly GLOWING. Even Terence noticed the difference, and told me that I looked completely refreshed, and that I had the cutest freckles. My skin is so, so soft and I am feeling tremendously vain.

And extra double bonus: my eyebrows are r-a-d. I asked for natural with some arch, and that is precisely what I got.

This is the part where I tell my Parisian friends about yet another Bertrand Burgalat event. As you all know, he is my most favorite, uber talented Fake Boyfriend and he is having a soirée at the Mains d’Oeuvres on Saturday June 1. People! He is Corsican, like the great Napoleon, and has the profile to prove it! I think he is only going to be dj-ing, but honest to God, that man is so amazing he could play the fucking spoons and I’d be enraptured.

:: nouvelle édition du Club Samedi Tricatel (Samedi 1er Juin) ::

A partir de 16h, derrière les Puces de Clignancourt - Ciné-Club - DJs: Christophe Lemaire, Madelaine Levy, Bertrand Burgalat... - Concerts (19h): Strawberry Smell, Faem & Deluxe avec le Krimi Orchestra - Cuisine: les douceurs d'Olga

Mains d'oeuvres 1, rue Charles Garnier 93400 Saint Ouen Bus 85 (arrêt: Paul Bert) M° Garibaldi ou Pte de Clignancourt

:: fin ::

Tonight I am going to see Elvis Costello! And right before, we are having cake + champagne to celebrate Vanessa’s birthday. What could be better than cake and Elvis? I have to remember to bring kleenex because I cannot see Elvis perform live and not cry. I used to get really embarassed about this, but no more. I am OUT about my love for his voice, his music, his lyrics. The man is a genius.

Ohmygod, I can’t believe I was going to sign off without mentioning this: so Terence and I go to Sweet Lady Jane to pick up Vanessa’s cake (Merci Henrriette!) and we are about to drive home with the cake, when a French woman approaches and asks us if we can give her a ride to a rental car place on Santa Monica. I was looking at her, listening to her story, trying to decide if she was for real or a murderer or what (“I was een an accident a couple of dayzago, and I have a rental car, wif ze keys locked inside”) when Terence leans over, and opens the passenger side door. She gets in, says her name is Chantal, and adds that we don’t have to drop her off at the rental agency, we can just drop her off at Fairfax (where we would be turning to head home.) So Terence tells her that he’ll drive her to the rental place because he needs the good karma, and she was so psyched! I mean, she looked like she’d just had a facial! The drive took maybe 10 minutes, and we talked about the French elections, about traffic and public transportation in Los Angeles... it was pretty trippy but at the same time, really cool.

6:16 p.m. - 2002-05-30

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