This has been a disappointing week.
1) I got down to the final two for a job that I would kill for. I didn't get it, nor did I get the opportunity to kill anyone to prove my worth.
2) I saw Dita Von Teese live.
But you know what? She was terrible. It was literally the worst burlesque I have ever seen and I don't understand why she is so famous. Well I kind of understand because she's hot as shit. But you know what, boobies can only get you far so far. Okay they can still get you pretty far in my book but I am very shallow and other people should not be this way.
Starting from the top...
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The job was for a writer's assistant position on a show with one of my FAVORITE writers. In fact I have known that we were soul mates for years when I found out she was in the same writing program as me in school five years earlier and saw a photo and we even LOOK similar. However today I feel like our dynamic is not so much one of soul mates, but one of stalker/stalkee. So that is disappointing.
And Dita.
Oh Dita.
Why did you do this to me?
I really didn't ask so much, I don't think.
I just wanted you to take your clothes off and have even an OUNCE of personality. But you did not. I mean, you did take your clothes off, but it turns out that I have slightly more depth than anticipated. Listen, I'm not looking for something that high quality. "Let Me Entertain You" from Gypsy the musical was more than enough for me.
In fact, the strip scene from Gypsy was significantly better than one of the two other burlesque shows I have seen in my lifetime.
(Here is the Gypsy video. You can start at 7:29 for the final performance... or watch it all the way through. This scene is really spectacular)
Up until about three weeks ago, the only burlesque show I had seen (except for the fake musical version) was part of the Queer Arts Festival associated with San Francisco pride last summer. And it was... different than I anticipated.
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First, it was called "Flabulous," and it was a size-positive queer femme event.
It was awesome, if perhaps not the sexiest thing I have ever seen. During the show, a young, tattooed hottie seduced and removed the petals from an extremely large elderly homo dressed as a flower. There were tap-dancing lesbians in drag and an amazing performer from Brooklyn that listed all the things she didn't like about being fat in America while handing out vegan cupcakes. This act culminated in an audience member eating a cupcake that was buried deep in the performer's deliciously large bosom with only her face. My personal favorite was when a girl came out in a Nacho Libre-esque Mexican wrestling outfit, fought with a fake dummy, pulled a burrito out of her pants, and ate it with relish as beans and rice flew all over the stage and audience.
Now it would have been hard to beat this event in creativity, but as far as sexiness it should have been a piece of cake.
It was not. There was no cake at all in this thing.
While Dita is certainly great at undoing buttons with ease, she didn't even really dance or say anything. If you're not going to dance, my thought is that you need to talk so the audience has something to focus on. If you're not going to talk, that better be because you're seducing me with your moves. However if you do neither but just walk to one side of the stage, stare at the audience, briefly push up your boobs, and then walk over to the other side and do the same thing and that is the whole performance, then what is the point?
I assumed things were going to get better when she hopped in her famous martini glass and got water all over her self, but all she did was point her toes and swivel around a couple of times.
In addition to that, the set-up was terrible. The stage was so low that unless you were in the very front row you only saw her from the waist up. Not that I didn't like seeing her boobs, but there's a reason the song "Ass-n-titties" has that title and not just "--- titties." I wanted to see the whole package. In fact, when another performer came on and danced in a chair, you could hear everyone whining because the only thing you could see was the top of her head.
I ended up leaving before the end, mainly because I couldn't really see. And since my girl was with me and she is a good six inches shorter than me, it seemed cruel to leave her staring at some guy's back the while listening to the crowd whoop and holler.
And we weren't the only ones. Even during the first act the audience was beginning to thin.
So there was that. Oh Dita, how you have broken my heart.
I may never recover.
Except that I have heard that there is an awesome burlesque in Santa Monica. That should probably cheer me up.
