felidae

Last night was the UK SuicideGirls Burlesque Troupe auditions. Never before has a sentence been constructed that rocketh so much as the last.

I took the train (drive? PFFT!) down to Cheltenham with my friend Taz who was also going to try out. My brother turned up too, mostly because nipple tassels are his idea of a perfect evening. On arrival we checked into a Travelodge and within minutes the family room wed booked for the three of us was festooned in feather boas, thigh boots, thongs, and bikini tops the size of postage stamps. My brother wisely decided to go for a walk after the Ann Summers explosion, so Taz and I got in some last-minute rehearsing.

At around 8:30 I called Nadine to assure her we were okay, and received in return a panic-stricken blither that nearly perforated my eardrum, because apparently the 2-Pigs doesnt open at 10, it opens at 9. Craziness ensued, but we got there roughly 15 minutes later.

At this point Id like to issue a warning do NOT stress Nadine; not if you value your life. When Nadine gets stressed she could blast you off the face of the earth with a single syllable. I reiterate the warning concerning Nic too, but at least she just talks to you like a herd of small schoolchildren who she knows put a ball through her window and is aware of where they live. Between them Im surprised the talks they gave us didnt come out like the bit in Indiana Jones where they open the Arc of The Covenant.

Surprisingly I had no few people come up to me and tell me theyd been scared of meeting me, but that I seemed really nice. HAH! FOOLS! I HAVE TAKEN YOUR SOULS!

*ahem*

Anyway, when ready and announced and after much, WHOSE IS THIS CD AND WHAT IS IT AND WHICH TRACK?!!!!! we began. The last time I was involved with the whole burlesque troupe thing I was on first, and this time, last. Gah Its no use being a grand finale if your grand finale consists of your getting on stage, looking at the audience, and debating just grabbing the mike and announcing, Ladies and gentlemen, Im not one for big endings, so instead I eschew the song and dance option in favour of meandering shambolically to a close. then walking off.

In the event, however, I pulled myself together long enough to remember most of my routine, and happily not fall off the fucking enormous heels I wore. although I did experience a moment of CRAP! IM STILL IN HALF MY FUCKING OUTFIT! REMOVE TIE REMOVE TIE REMOVE TIE! which is the opposite of one of the other girls who peeled everything off in the first minute and a half and was left prancing around ad-libbing for the remainder of the song.

As I was last on I didnt get to see the majority of the acts, but those I saw were incredible and I was privileged to have danced alongside them.

So things went well, though on waking the next day I discovered Id lost my wallet containing all my cards and my train tickets. CURSE YOU FATE! CURSE YOU WITH HERPES! The world didnt come to too great an end though, because I growled at the train conductor and wafted my receipt (which Id kept in my back pocket, thankfully) under his unbelievably unctuous nose until he backed off, making calming motions in my general direction. The wallet wasnt the only thing lost, however, because in the crazy drunkenosity that was the dressing room Nadine misplaced an entire bottle of vodka, and Taz lost her makeup, her stockings, herself when she left to go try to find a 24 hr Tesco to buy some more, and her own bottle when she finally got on stage. Two minutes into her routine she simply crumpled and jumped off, crying. Damn shame too because by all accounts shed been doing admirably until then. Poor babe. She was gutted on the way home.

Anyway, we get to hear officially from Nic who made the cut sometime this next week, but Ill give you a hint not me.

Pictures to follow.

Fun Felidae Fact: If I again decide to wear a skirt the size of a belt and attempt to remove it on stage without looking like Im stumbling around a changing room, I will be utilising a sewing machine and Velcro in advance. That is all.