Von Teese Me

This week I’ve had my first burlesque experience!

Im going to admit that the trip to The Italian Way for pizza, mixed with a couple of bottles of wine probably wasn’t the smartest way to start the evening but who knew burlesque in a local church would be so exhausting?

Despite my bravado I will admit to being a tad nervous about humiliating myself. As mentioned previously I am most definitely not Dita Von Teese and the only time I’ve shaken my boobs in public has been if the bus went over the speed bump too fast.

With all that in mind I have to confess I had a remarkable time, superb in fact. Madame FooFoo LaBelle made us all instantly relaxed and at ease besides, you’re focusing so much on her that you don’t even notice anyone else’s arse in your face. It was such a diverse group of shapes, sizes and ages that you didn’t really care if you ‘Shakira Shake’ looked more like ‘dying for the loo’*. No one was looking and no one cared.

Supposedly we picked a particularly difficult evening to begin our quest for our inner vamp but hey, we bloody well gave it a shot. Samba Rock was the routine of the evening which was full on samba with a touch of posing.

I learnt that my grasp of basic shapes leaves a lot to be desired with my ‘boxes’ ending up more like ‘triangles’. To be fair though I feel my ‘triangle’ trumped my poor friends ‘pentagon’. None of that mattered though. You could have done a full blown ‘decagon’. As long as you did it with enthusiasm & flare you’d make it fit somehow.

Personally I think it was a fabulous experience and what a way to keep fit! A few more nights of that and I’ll be frolicking in a champagne glass in no time.

Next week it’s ‘Hey Big Spender’ and who can say no to that?  Minus the food and wine I think I'll give it a damn good shot!

By the way if anyone is interested or wants more information check out Burlesque Cardiff.

* My Shakira Shake was obviously perfect and would indeed put her to shame.

The Joy of Lush

The other day I made the foolish decision to go into Lush, for ‘a browse’. Some time later & considerably poorer I emerged with a bag full of goodies among which was The Joy of Jelly, Sex in The Shower & French Kiss!

In these days of stringent advertising laws and trading standards I’m expecting a lot from my new products!

Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be disappointed?

Diss Me I'm Irish

Well it's that time of year again. The time of year when the lovely people of the world join for one brief moment to toast the Irish for being such lovable drunken rogues. Now I’m not complaining, it’s always nice being Irish & as far as stereotypes go, lovable drunk, isn’t too bad now is it?

What I do object to however is the wide variety of Irish accents I’ve been forced to listen to today & if I hear one more Welsh person say ‘Craic’ I will be taking my shillelagh and ramming it down their well meaning throats!

Living in Wales it seems I’m expected to be more ‘Irish’ on this day. People seem genuinely disappointed that I’m not dressed head to toe in green, drinking Guinness & weaving grand tales of the old world. Every other day they are perfectly content with my lack of Irishness but on this day, St Patrick’s day I’m expected to do my duty & show up to work drunk in the back of a police van.

Ah well it will all settle down soon. Tomorrow it will be safe to walk the streets once more. A world without Ian Paisley impersonations and dodgy Irish accents. Imagine .

Just Call Me Lany B L'Amour

Well after months of hmming & haahing I am finally booked to go to my first burlesque class next week.

The class promises to teach me some simple dance moves such as bumps, grinds, poses & walks. All this while under the fine tutelage of one Madame Foo Foo LaBelle!

Now people that know me would agree that I'm perhaps more suited to Hungry Hippos than Dita Von Teese but to hell with that.  I reckon I can strut my stuff with the rest of them.  I'm sure to be shaking my tail feather (literally), in no time at all.

Thankfully I wont be alone.  I've managed to persuade some hapless victims/friends to accompany me.  Now all I need is a Burlesque name & a drastic wardrobe overhall & i'm all set to shimmy & shake!

Forgive me world!

There’s A Man Works Down The Chip Shop Swears He’s Elvis

Recently I’ve been noticing that the general population are trying more & more to get ‘a celebrity look’. You can’t walk down the street without bumping into someone who is trying very hard to look like ‘somebody’.

I know this isn’t a new thing. We’ve been emulating famous people for years. In fact I once worked for a theatre company whose director looked exactly like Hitler! This wasn’t a mere coincidence; the look had very obviously been cultivated. Why I will never know!

Over the course of this weekend I noticed about six George Lambs, a dozen Zac Effrons & I’ve lost track of the number of Robert Pattisons that are currently patrolling the streets.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am more than happy to see hoards of any one of those guys stalking around. In fact, I think I would pay good money to witness such an event. My problem is simply that most of these wannabes don’t look anything like those guys & trust me, if you don’t get that Rob Pattison or George Lamb hair exactly right, you’re going to look like an escapee from an asylum.

What’s becoming very clear to me however is that it’s not the men choosing to do this. If you do spot one of these lookalikes there will undoubtedly be a smug girlfriend draped all over her handiwork thinking she’s created the new Zac.

All I want to say to these girls is that a skinny tie does not turn your 15 year old boyfriend into hot property. In fact it’s more than likely going to make him look like an arse. Remember, the clothes don’t make the man. Except of course the Hitler lookalike, I’d maybe stay clear of him.

Positively Pink with Possibility

Anyone who knows me will know that my husband and I have been hit pretty hard by the recession. Having both been working in finance at the time of the collapse it’s been a strange couple of years. Hopping from temping post to temping post the future has been rather uncertain for us both.

This morning my husband discovered that he will once again be looking for work. He’s disappointed but also optimistic and to be honest so am I. Something seems to have clicked into place for us in the last few months & although we are all but back at the start something seems different this time.

I don’t know whether it’s the sunshine or the radio’s great setlist this morning but I’m feeling this recent activity in our working lives is for the best. Far from being depressed and worried, I’m excited about the possibility.

If you know my husband you will agree that he wasn’t made to work in an office for the rest of his days. This is his time now, of that I am positive.

Thar She Blows

As a 29 year old girl some people find it peculiar that I almost exclusively wear skirts. In fact much to people’s horror, I don’t even own a pair of jeans. I like skirts, feel good in skirts & am unlikely to change this anytime soon.

This little quirk of mine has however exposed me to an element of nature that I had previously not even known existed. It’s an unforgiving predator & no skirt wearing person is safe. I’m of course talking about the pervy wind!

As you may be aware, ordinary wind is not a problem for skirt wearers. You grab a patch of material and hold it down. That tends to the do the job nicely. All in all it’s a small obstacle, easily conquered.

The pervy wind however is not so easily foiled. The pervy wind is cunning & has no set pattern. Also, it’s virtually undetectable. You could leave the house on a seemingly serene morning only to find the pervy wind lurking on a street corner, or more commonly, a busy bus stop.

What separates the pervy wind from the ordinary elements is simple. The pervy wind seeks out unsuspecting skirt wearers, seemingly on purpose, & without warning will whip a skirt high in the air with a reckless flourish. Unless you have witnessed this phenomenon for yourself it’s hard to understand the full impact it can have on a person.

Needless to say, this is quickly becoming the bane of my life. In fact so much so that I now take it into consideration when deciding on what I’m going to wear as no amount of skirt holding seems to stop the pervy wind once it’s started.

As an old hand at skirt wearing, I now know the ways of the pervy wind and, while I will no doubt continue to fall prey to this almost daily humiliation, I am prepared for its strikes. Now I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there is nothing I can do to stop it I’ve decided to join it. If I’m going to put on a show, it’s going to be a bloody good one.

I would urge other skirt wearers to join me in this peaceful alliance. Have a bit of respect for the rest of population. Ditch the boy shorts and granny panties. Make it French and make it lacy! I think it’ll be a much better world for it.

Dead Awful

Thanks to fabulous show that is True Blood, I have recently started reading the Charlaine Harris series of books that the show is based upon.  Anyone that has watched the show will tell you it's a sexy, irreverent, piece of drama with enough sex, violence & fangs to satisfy any gothic urges you may have.  The books on the other hand . . !  

Well with such snappy titles as Club Dead, Definitely Dead & All Together Dead you can understand why I was a little dubious cracking open the first book (Dead Until Dark in case you were wondering).  I must admit I was pleasantly surprised.  Don't get me wrong, I don't see Charlaine Harris walking off with a Booker prize anytime soon but 'Dead Until Dark' is a perfectly enjoyable bit of fluffy fantasy.  In fact, I was so surprised by how competent the first book was that I got myself the next 4 in the series.  

Oh, what foolish creatures we mortals can be!

The second in the series was readable, barely.  However and about ten pages from the end I had to put it down in shame when this Mills & Boon moment was unleashed from our brooding hero, Vampire Bill:  

'It's lovely, but you may be slightly overdressed for the occasion.'

'What occasion would that be?'

'The best sex of your life.'

Aagggghhhhh! 

 

Why then you ask did I pick up the third book this weekend?  I'm afraid I'm not sure.  Obviously some dark corner of my mind is using this series as a form of self flagellation for some unspoken crime.  Or maybe, just maybe, I'm hoping the books improve.  

That being said I think I'm really done now.  I just can't do it to myself any longer.  I've realised I love myself too much.  Oh and I have Charlaine Harris herself to thank for this revelation.  Nice and early into book 3 Charlaine gave me the push I needed to put the novels down for good.  Thank you Ms Harris.  Oh and in case you're curious, the offending paragraph is below: 

'BIll's Missing,' Pam said, shooting from the conversational hip.

'No, he's not.  He's in Seattle,' I said.  Willfully obtuse.  I had learned that word from my Word-A-Day calendar only that morning, and here I was getting to use it.

Umm yeah, someone might need to have a word with the narrator about what is wrong with this scene!
 

The End of An Era Part 2 - Back To The Future

Ahem, well it appears I may have posted too hastily regarding my previous assignment.  Less than one week into my new position and, well, I'm heading back to the last one! 

 

My lovely new/old colleagues can rest assured they welcomed me with open arms in a rather difficult time but I can't be down beat as I'm rather excited about getting back to my fabulous old/new colleagues.

 

Make sense?  No? Well, my life is never straightforward!