ASK ASTRID. Advice Columnists Are Made, Not Born.



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ASK ASTRID.

The story goes…

Miss Astrid was always too much personality for a stage, and she’s certainly too grandiose to be encapsulated in mere words on a screen. So she single-handedly launched a coup in a lawless corner of Chechnya, led a hostile takeover of a local media conglomerate, and recruited, armed, and mobilized rebels to occupy a tiny television station. Filmed during a 36-hour standoff with the Russkies (or, to hear Astrid tell it, “Panty-vaists“), here you have it, ASK ASTRID, LIVE ONSCREEN. (And also, brought to us by the wonderful people at Woodshop Networks. Who might have shot some of this in Philly.)

Dear Miss Astrid…

Miss Astrid’s mother was a Bavarian Princess.  Her father worked in a German freakshow billed as “World’s Tiniest, Meanest Man.”  Her mentor in singing and love was Sammy Davis Jr. The above qualifies her as an expert on everything.  “I already have an opinion.  You just don’t know it yet.”

Pearls of wisdom from “the true weimar fraulein” are delivered on the last Friday of every month, now in awesome video format, brought to you by Burlesque Beat and produced at Woodshop Networks by Scott R. Johnston and Andrew Geller with lighting by Kevin Gallagher. We welcome you to ask Miss Astrid anything you like. Email her at askastrid@burlesquebeat.com. You can also tweet her.  She likes that. Please address your question “To the Almighty Miss Astrid Von Voomer,” or “Dearest Miss Astrid,” or at the very least, “Dear Miss Astrid,” and sign your question with your name, city and state/country. Please. Let’s not piss her off. And remember, this is the advice you need—not the advice you want.

Ask Astrid. The first step is recognizing that you have a problem.

Photo ©Don Spiro and used by Burlesque Beat with express permission.

Burlesque Emcee Miss Astrid with pearls

 

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