On Stereotypes.
Remember when I said I’d write every day like I used to? We all knew I was full of shit. Its getting better though. The burlesque show is over and Im more settled so I can have time to write now. If I decide to. Actually I’d rather be reading and planning my vacation to Scotland but Im a little smidgen drunk. Not wildly drunk. Drunk enough not to make travel commitments at present. So you people get me for now.
The burlesque show went well. It got pretty intense, especially the day of, as live theatre tends to do. After busting our asses to put together some form of a live band (in the end it was just Thai and Drummer effectively "white striping it") 2 of the songs got dropped day of. Leaving them with 1 song to do. They did some unpracticed randoms during intermission. They were drunk. I felt badly after pouring on the pressure for them to perform. But hey they got to see a lot of boobs. All was well.
One performer got so wasted, in fact arrived wasted she could barely perform and then couldnt sit down and shut up all night. It was good for a laugh until she stole someone’s cell phone and later at the after party admitted she stole it and gave it back. Fabulous. Shes been photoshopped out of photos. But not out of our hearts.
I did well. The last week I had to write a second act because performers were STILL dropping out of the show. I decided to dance to Little Red Rooster, the Willie Mae Thornton version. I made a vegas show girl style out fit with eggs for pasties and popped out of a giant egg, It was a hit. I also produced kinder eggs from within the billows of my skirt for the audience. They were melty. But they were MELTED by the heat of my flesh. So people liked it. I was told by the organizers that the two acts I wrote were 2 of the strongest. I was proud. I had been nervous for the first half of the rooster dance but after that I realized-this is what I should be doing. Burlesque dancing is right for me. YAY. And so I shook my sparkling, fried egg shaped pasties at my audience. Big hit. I had got stuck in the egg at first but I turned it into a gag. Good thing mom sent me to theatre camp as a preteen EH?
The prop girl had been a bit mad. She send me to her apartment without an apartment number (naturally I assumed that meant it was a house and not a 13 floor building) but we prevailed in the end. What the hell am I to do with the egg now? Sigh. Its still in Thai’s trunk 2 weeks later.
We’re planning another show for December. I havent cooked up an act yet.
Other than that I havent been socializing. Em and her British boyfriend just broke up because his parents didnt like her and didnt want him moving to Canada. Theyre control freaks. Shes better off…unless you consider that she rented an apartment she could only afford with his help and bought a bed because he refused to sleep on a matress on the floor. Hes a skeezebag.
Im going to begin sociallizing again now that I have more time. Im also planning a 1 week trip to Scotland at the end of August. Thai wanted to go out east but hes been and I wanted us to explore somewhere else. I really prefer to speak the language of where I go. I want to study Spanish this year so I can feel comfortable going back to Bolivia. I just feel it is rude to make no effort at all. So I thought with no notice (we just started planning last week) we’d go to an English speaking land. Scotland came up because I found a book on Scotland hikes. Thai had wanted to go hiking because, as you may recall I went on an intense hike here in Canada last year. It was hard work and I wouldnt do it again. But I would hike from hostel to hostel (or B and B or guest house or hotel). So long as I dont have to carry any sleeping or cooking equipment as it is heavy. I can carry a weeks worth of clothing and a thingy of toothpaste. No prob. Im going to start training this week. Walking for an house or so with a backpack of books for weight. It wont make me in peak form, but it wont hurt either. How bad do I want to be proposed to in Scotland? Slightly more than I want a pair of highland dancing shoes. And Im bringing home those shoes.
I know its soon. But FUCKING HELL. Its just right.
I rush things. Its how I roll. Plus I proposed to That australian guy and that Irish guy and why do I think there was a third one, that other Irish guy I guess. Oh and I was ring shopping with Rummy. And nothing. No real rings. No marriages, convenience or otherwise. Nothing. "Once a bridesmaid" people have nothing on me.
Speaking of Rummy, he just got arrested for driving twice over the limit. It was in the paper. The clipping is on the fridge along with a clipping on my best buddy from highskool’s dad who shot two trespassers.They were fishing in a creek near his home and wandered up it on to his unmarked property. He was always a dickwad.
Speaking of dickwads tonight when I was in William’s with Em one of my old church pals approached us. You may recall a story about a guy who thought Id make a church wife and asked me to coffee after years of not talking to me and later found out from a friend of mine Im a bisexual drunk who likes being on stage in lingerie. (So can I have an off white wedding dress?). Anyways. It was his sister. Bizarrity number 1:She mentions the burlesque show by saying her brother told her about it. He isnt on my facebook and I do not discuss anything with him on MSN. Havent spoken to him in ages. Was he there? No idea. Didnt think to ask. I was too busy making a fool of him by telling her we dont talk and he is stalking me. Laughs all around. Nextly, her aunt went for a date with my dad. Hes listed on a christian dating site called big church and they went to garden centers (his obsession) and he obsessed over betty boop (you may not know this but I get told I look like Betty boop every day of my sordid existence) So that was a riot. And then he made plans with her and he broke tham and talked shit about her at work….he works with ehr brother. Good job. So at least now I know daddykins is still a fuckstick. I told her thats ok for her aunt because hes a wife beater and a childbeater anyways. I didnt think saying he molested me was hip-coffee-bar-chain appropriate. Maybe if we were in an Irish pub Chain and I could have immediately knocked back a half and half. No such luck.
So of course I went home and joined the site. Made my profile appealling to my father. And looked up his profile. You have to pay to see them, but I could see his name and his photo and I laughed because his user name is all hipster computer lingo and last I checked he took at least 2 minutes to find the R on a keyboard. He still has blonde frosted hair. SMEXY. It doesnt help that Im reading Anise Nin’s uncensored diary where her
therapist has her seduce her father only to reject him to get him back for leaving her. Of course I wont go that far. Probably just have him meet me somewhere and not show, at tops. Lewis thinks I should show up there and flip him off and laugh. I wont though. Its to get him back for my friend’s aunt. You cant really get sufficient revenge on 17 years of abuse and molestation. And if you could it would have to be so heinous it would be more damaging to my psyche to think fo the revenge than when I was abused to begin with.
I still have nightmares though. There are really bad nights. Thai is so supportive. He actually just shaved all his facial hair off because I had another one of my little episodes where the feel of it reminded me of something so terrible I cant even think far enough down the memory to find out why it makes me violently ill. He says he’ll never grow it out again.
Because he wants to make me safe.
It isnt all good. But mostly it is :D. The other day we were walking and I was standing on an old flatted bike tire part and he said "look a dead snake". Snakes scare me so bad that even a dead one is startling. I can remember every time I saw a snake, dead or alive. I freaked out. When I realized he was kidding I was enraged. I marched off toward home ahead of him and nearly stepped on an actual dead snake. At this point I had a real melt down. And when we got back to the house the guilt he felt was obvious but I laid in to him. It was just so insulting that we had been talking about my fear of snakes earlier and he still picked on me, and then he had actually got to see me react to the real thing. I was humiliated twice. But of course seeing me react to the real thing made him feel worse for doing it. I was in sheer terror and of course, he didnt want that. He hadnt been thinking. I was a little hard on him. We made up eventually. I feel bad. I dont complain or fight excessively. But it seems I have a lot of weird issues. He never complains NEVER. Hes so patient. Im certainly not perfect. I wish just once hed point out something that irked him so I could fix it the way he fixes what is bothering me.
In short, Im lucky.
I just realized this entry is about me performing a strip tease and having so called “daddy issues“. Its a bit stereotypical to say such bullshit. I don`t think one has anything to do with the other. After all, what was done to me hardly made me more comfortable with my sexuality and in fact I was taking my clothes off for the enjoyment of paying interested parties before I admitted to myself Id been wronged. Id say Im fucking lucky for every second I guiltlessly enjoy my body, or any other aspect of my life after the beginning Ive had. And if you are one of those trite assmongers who thinks every girl who takes her clothes off or has promiscuous sex has daddy issues, and reading my diary doesnt make you think that we are more than just 2 Demensional characters in a paperback, then thats fine. I wont launch a big sob story. But if thats the pathetic shit you believe, just be a good father and we can all be happier people.
wow got a little angry there. No more tequilla for me. Im out. Im reading this cute story about a lottery winner with an IQ of 76 and a terrible money grubbing family. Its an endearing tale done in the winner`s view point. Sometimes I just need a good, sweet tale.