I look just like the girls next door, if you live next door to an amusement park.

-Dolly Parton

Oh, you found me.  So you must be here to sweat it out*, cuz you’ve just entered the House of Cobblah.

churn dat buttah.

Peach Cobblah is an alter-ego who I luckily get to spend a lot of time with as I run events, host galas and lipsynch for my life. Through her I'm able to explore aspects of myself that seem incongruous - my love of dancey hiphop, a clownish* yet sexy attitude, a way more loud-mouthed self who can say more crude things than I'd generally allow myself to. She lights up the stage and commands attention and taps into our baser desires. And she connects with people - she has a very dedicated fan base who eventually discover her other side: Dave.

Peach is just another of the faces I get to put on, this one just happens to have more glitter*, more makeup, and more likeness to Ronald McDonald’s future wife. Peach is a mask much in the same way that putting on a tie and being Professor Dave is a mask. The tie, the wig, and the pen all sit on the same shelf.

It's only okay when I say it.

I buy that shit in bulk.

Girl's been busy.

See me every Tuesday at 1181 for SHAME SPIRAL – Cocktails at 10, Show at 11

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Stop. Doing. Drag.

I almost did. For a hot minute. For a minute I started thinking this had all gone too far and that the dresses and wigs were starting to infringe on my male life (see www.davedeveau.com). Was Peach preventing me from becoming the playwright I’d always wanted to be? I thought. I pondered. I figured it out. HELL NO! Peach is the life of the party.

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