Went to a book release party for a local “celebrity”* the other day and I thought, “that could be me.” Minus the boring/lame-ass commentary she did when her friends introduced her and she went up on stage to “read” a portion of her new book of course. She didn’t really read but rather told a story based on one of the vignettes in the new book. And did she ever tank.Maybe she was nervous, maybe she really doesn’t like crowds like her buddies do, who knows- whatever it was though, she probably knows herself well enough to have known how to keep herself from floundering on stage. I know what my cousin -the one that’s just like me, ‘cept he has a penis- would be saying right now: “Quit judging people!” But why? That’s what I was put here for. Not really, I’ve always wanted to say that though. I really envy those fools who utter things like that with true conviction: “I was put here to (insert any random verb or thing- dance, write, sing, play an instrument).” Damn them! At least they don’t have to spend their time searching or their money drinking to see if in their intoxicated state things will “become clearer” and they’ll somehow ‘know.’ Oh well, we all can’t have it that easy, and besides all this learning is so exhilarating most of the time. All these phone calls, how can I blog with all these people calling me all the time wanting reports and updates- Damn it!
So there I was trying to get as much dinner as possible, seeing as how one of the local breweries provided all the beer and the bartender said “a suggested donation of $2” was suggested. OK! Great- that’s my kinda event. I donated the first three times and from there forward it was maybe a buck for two beers every other time or something like that. I was also getting my gay husband beer so we were saving money by getting them at the same time, and I had his wallet- a rarity since he seems to think I’m made of money.
The best part of the whole thing was the entertainment, the Dames A Flame** were there and it looks like they’ve been working out ‘cause they all looked GOOD! It takes balls to get up there on stage and flash your almost bare ass to the crowd without thinking much about it- wow! As we cheered their act I overheard two guys behind me discussing the intricacies of burlesque, they kept saying things like, “That’s what Burlesque is all about, “ and since I always want to find out what things are all about I kept waiting for them to say but I guess that the Dames are so good they don’t need any actual explanation. The first time I saw the Dames at an “Elvis Death Day” event I was convinced I needed to become one of them, it made perfect sense then; of course I was on my 6th or 7th PBR by then but it made sense. I could see myself up there shamelessly shaking my ass to old Elvis tunes to the sound of drunken fools woohooing below me- yeah! That must be the life. Then I saw their pasties and tried to figure out if the pasties thing would work for me- well their pasties worked for them. But then again they seem to work best on smaller breasts, and those I do not have. As I dissected my serious thought of becoming a Dame further, it became apparent that my breasts weren’t built for pasties and so I thought I better move on to other things to do with my time. Besides, I heard they have to travel to NY and other places for Burlesque Conventions and stuff and how would I explain that at the bank anyway. “Oh, excuse me Napoleon, I need a week off to go perform in pasties and hot thigh highs and frilly underwear, I’ll call you guys when I get back.” I don’t know if that would fly around here.
Did I tell you that I live vicariously through my imagination? ‘Cause I do you know, and although that affords me things/events/people I wouldn’t otherwise have access to, it also stinks as there are times when I really would like to pursue these further and well, it’s not like I really have a backdoor to my armoire and I can step right into it. Such is life though and the mix of real vs. imagination seems to have carried me this far.
I think the Dames thought we were stalking them at one point. I say we, ‘cause most every time I’ve been to see them my gay husband has been there. And he’s a rather memorable guy, with his thinning blond hairs, his dark-rimmed glasses, permanent scowl and really cool guayaberas I make him wear- they have to remember him. I’ve seen a little hint of fear flash across Big Mike’s (that’s the lead singer, eukelele player, funny front-man the Dames always perform with) eyes when he recognizes us wildly waving and grinning at him from the audience. Mind you, Big Mike is BIG, but I think he’s a lover not a fighter, else why does he insist on wearing his Geisha costume all the time? What do I know though; I’m not even locally famous yet. And yes, like most of you I’m a legend in my own mind but beyond that- who knows.
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*Local Writer- Hollis Gillespie
**www.damesaflame.com
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