You guys, this Wednesday was Valentines day, and it’s probably the most bipolar holiday ever. Depending on whether you’re single, or in-relationship status, you were either super bitter, or horribly ecstatic. I was neither because I had to work on a fairly complex excel spreadsheet that literally took me all day. Granted I do like working on those, so I guess that would lean me into a relationship-ecstatic status. My fingers gently typed away those weekly summary numbers, while excel took them in and grew larger and larger, until we both lost track of time, and span off into an eternal bliss of rows and columns…So that was my day.
And then I got actual flowers delivered to work. From my actual significant other. Nobody else got flowers delivered, and they were all totally jealous. So naturally I made sure to parade around the room with my beautiful flowers, and rub it in their faces. It was great.
And that night we had booked tickets to go see a Burlesque Show. And yes, it is probably the most obvious thing to do on a Valentine’s day, right after a jazz venue, and a rose covered bed. But I have never seen a Burlesque Show, and I always wanted to. You know, to see what all the fuss is about, and obviously because nekkid ladies.And so we went. And I did not like it. I’m internally debating whether I should link to them here, cuz Imma ’bout to talk smack, but let’s just assume it wasn’t their best show. Although, one would expect that on a day that draws the largest crowd they would try a little harder. Maybe that’s just too much critical thinking….aaaand never mind, I actually can’t find the link to the show anymore. So that solves it.
But I was hopeful at the time. The venue was located in East Village, streets were swarming with couples, air was warm and pleasant. We entered into a dimply lit club, the night was promising. The show’s host was on the stage. And it was this super big lady in stripper heals, and leopard dress, and she was talking, and kept talking, and kept talking, and kept talking. Then we saw like 2 min of another girl doing an erotic dance. And then more of the host talking, and talking, and talking…you get the idea. Granted some of the talking was raunchy, and I’m only assuming meant to rile up the crowd, all it did for me was sent my left eye twitching. But you know what really finished it for me – magical show performance. I kid you not. That is the last form of entertainment I would classify as sexy. I mean nothing gets you more in the mood than ‘pick a card, any card!’ They had that.
The last lady performer was probably somewhat good. They found one. But it was too late, too little. An accidental fire would probably save the show, but it didn’t happen, and now I have to live with this memory forever.
So do know, things don’t always work out as planned. But it doesn’t mean you should stop going to Burlesque shows. Or maybe you should.