About Ms. Laveaux

 Since your curiosity got the best of you, the least I can do is give you a peek behind the curtain. (Settle down, tiger...It's not literal.)

The "Cliff Notes" version:
  • a sparkling enigma wrapped in fishnets and sarcasm
  • a glorious contradiction of fierce warrior and pampered princess who contemplates whether to wear strappy heels under a couture gown or cowboy boots - just in case
  • a steel magnolia who still believes a gentleman should hold the door for a lady - even if she can make a trucker blush when she smashes her finger in that same door

Full version for those with a stronger constitution and a little time to kill:

My love for music has grown exponentially over the years and remains the most powerful link to memories of people and places along my journey.
No matter how blissful the memory, or heart-wrenching the event in my life; there is at least one song that captured that emotion and immediately transports me to that exact moment in time. As soon as I hear the first few notes of a party anthem, the swell of a power ballad, requisite sappy love song, or the resounding refrain of a great drinking song; I'm there - when or wherever "there" may be. Although I am a huge movie buff and have watched an inordinate amount of television and film, nothing compares to the imagery evoked by really great music.

 Most of my childhood consisted of staying up past my bedtime playing records and practicing my act. I dressed up in my best outfits and performed for any audience available - Barbie and her friends, unsuspecting family members, and random strangers with candy.
(Don't laugh about Barbie. That chic had a dream house, a pink Corvette, a pony, and Ken - the original metrosexual boyfriend.)  

Sadly, I fell victim to the trappings of a "real job" and entered the workforce as expected by polite society. Although it dealt a crushing blow to my creativity, my "respectable" job funded a rapidly growing addiction to designer shoes and fine jewelry. My intervention came in the form of a sangria-induced epiphany.
Why should I continue offering myself on the altar of occupation and risk the extinction of my dreams?

After pulling myself up by the vintage leather bootstraps, I thrust myself headlong into the pursuit of my dream - to perform!