There was an act in Friday evening's burlesque show where the three ladies frittered around the man with leather pants, who was holding up a giant egg. A giant egg.
And Coco exclaimed, "Paris!" and I thought, sigh, no it isn't, would that it was, but the burlesque makes us feel that much closer, doesn't it.
And then she said "I'm sure of it, Paris!" and I turned, thinking the red wine had obviously gone to her head. And then she explained the story of the Judgement of Paris, which had obviously been modernized in this act with an egg for an apple.
Of Course! She confirmed it with a quick googling the next day, and the reminder that one really should never go to a burlesque show without a clever and literary sort in tow.
a quick addendum to the pastys situation: I was given a fuzzy white heart by a very handsome stranger last night, and when I got home and stuck it to the wall next to my door I suddenly remarked to myself that of course! it is sticky on the other side! And that, i think, qualifies most admirably.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am now one pasty shy of being a Better person.