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| Emily's almost there ... almost. |
We sent admittedly shy Emily Currier to Annie A-Bomb's Philadelphia School of Burlesque at the Walking Fish Theatre to learn about the vaudevillian art form. Each week, she'll file a report of her progress from the tasseled and bedazzled frontlines. Catch up on Emily's first and second adventures.
In preparation for my third burlesque class, I did something I haven't done since getting ready for my first boy-girl dance in sixth grade: I practiced my dance moves in front of a mirror. To get the appropriate tassel twirling-effect in full planetary rotation, I basically had to do jumping jacks. Any potential sex appeal was immediately negated by the profuse sweating. I then made a trip the neighborhood hardware store for some embellishments to my costume (you'll have to wait to find out what!). The cashier checking me out (in a couple of ways) tried to flirt with me through his mouth full of pizza. Oh, dear shop-keep, if only you knew what I was going to use these materials for.
In class on Tuesday we are christened with our new burlesque names: Lyzzy Bordyn, Ruby Cheex, and, well, still just Emily. I forgot to complete all of my homework assignments, apparently, by not coming up with a sassy name. Sometime during middle school, I got a chain e-mail revealing the steps to discovering your porn star name, something about combining your first pet's name and the street you grew up on. While "Frisky Ridge" is ripe with porn star connotations, it may not have the proper playful subtly for burlesque.
Stripped down to our panties and stockings, we watch as Anna demonstrates several ways to get even more naked by removing our stockings. My thighs stick uncomfortably to the chair as Anna shows us how to take off our stockings with two hands, two fingers and even our toes. After the demo comes the moment I've been dreading: our burlesque routine premieres. Lyzzy Bordyn and Ruby Cheex, along with their well thought out names, have been dreaming about and planning for their burlesque debuts for years. I never in a million years expected to be stripping in front of a live studio audience, putting me at something of a disadvantage.
"It's like you're wiping former lovers off your face," says Ruby Cheex during part of my routine. When I stare at her a shock and incomplete understanding, she replies casually, "What, you've never had it end up on your face?"
I've made the rookie mistake of choosing a really sexy song for my burlesque debut. While the other two girls have playful routines and well-formed characters, I choreographed the bulk of my half-hearted routine after several glasses of wine one night. With my background in theater, I can get into the fun of playing dress up and making up a character, but I am having trouble justifying my character's motivations for suddenly taking off all her clothes and twirling her titties around. More than that, I have a pesky habit of getting violently ill when I'm nervous. Before any first date or public speaking, I have to down half a bottle of Tums and chase it with ginger ale. I'm not sure if projectile vomiting is a fitting grand finale for my burlesque act.
Next Week's Adventure: My burlesque debut! / Emily spends time with her friend vodka
You write well. Thank you for such courageous stories!
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