I Can't Believe I Brushed My Teeth For This

[shanmonster]

Tonight was cursed, I tell ya. Cursed! Everything started off well. I had my music picked out, and I was about to start getting dressed when the troubles began.

1. I realized I am an idiot. The stereo I was taking to the gig was still at the store, and not at home. I don't know why I assumed it was home, but it was a dumb oversight on my part, especially since I'd even been down to the store earlier and was playing drum solos for the drum maker. Luckily, my escorts for the evening have a vehicle, and driving me to get the stereo was no problem.
2. My zills are AWOL. I can't find them anywhere. I know they're around somewhere, but that somewhere isn't anywhere I can find right now. I'm sure they'll turn up when I least need them. I had replacement zills, but after a few practice strikes with them, I realize I hate the feel and sound of them, and never want to play them again. I've been spoiled by my Saroyans.
3. I had to change my music, because the song I'd originally picked out is best for zilling, and without zills, I decided to go with a veil. The general public loves veils. They're so big and pretty and floaty and ooooo!-look-at-that! And for music, I decided to go with "Shik Shak Shok." It's got a little bit of everything in it.
4. I couldn't find the skirt I wanted to wear with my choli and coin bra, so I switched to my new, bright red liquid metal ensemble and my blue and gold pantaloons.
5. I reached for my brand new red and black beaded top. I'd carefully placed it in a bag so the beadwork wouldn't be damaged by my other costume stuff. But when I opened the bag, an appalling odour punched me in the nose: mould! My pretty new red and black top was white, blue, and green like month-old dirty dishes! Oh no! I rushed it to the sink and immersed it in cold water with Zero detergent. The hard-learned lesson here is don't put cloth in plastic bags.
6. I grabbed my shisha choli instead, then went to put on my makeup. I washed my face, patted it dry, and started with the coverup. All of a sudden, my face started gushing blood from an exploded zit, and it wouldn't stop! Ack! I ignored the geiser of blood and started putting on my eye makeup. By the time I had my lipstick on, the bleeding had finally stopped, and I hid the big red spot with more coverup.
7. All through this process, the telephone kept ringing. No one calls me for days, and then, within the last half hour before a performance, everyone and their uncle gives me a call. What's with that? Sephira was one of the callers, though, and she was sweet enough to offer to be my escort tonight. Hoorah for that!
8. fritzleonhardt and elanya arrive to take me to my destination. We pick up the stereo, and as we drive through town, it seems like everyone in town is drunk. When we get to the Elks Lodge, everyone there is drunk, too, and chain smoking. I hate dancing for drunks.
9. A lecherous man asks me, "Are you married?" I answer with, "I'm afraid so." He sighs loudly. "Well, will you give me a free tour?" Oh joy. I so hate drunks.
10. We get the stereo hooked up, and I go and hide behind a partition while someone fetches the birthday boy. He's drunker than everyone else put together, and although I can't see him at this point, I can certainly hear him. He says things like, "What the fuck are your fucking cunts up to? I'll fucking get you, you cunts," only with more instances of the words "fuck" and "cunts".
11. I dance. He's so drunk, he'd be impressed by someone handing him a banana. But I dance, anyhow. I don't get too close to him, in case he falls out of his chair. I'm afraid my smile must have turned into a pasted-on rictus while I danced, but everyone was too drunk to notice.

Aside from these things, the performance went well. No one pawed at me. I didn't have to use my kung fu. My escorts didn't have to defend my honour, and I got home all in one piece. And to top it off, I think all the mould came out of my pretty dance top.

But I'd sooooo rather dance at multicultural events, restaurants, stage shows, and gallery openings than drunken birthday parties (excepting my own drunken birthday party, of course!). I think I need a shower....

---

Addendum: As I was putting on my dance sandals, the strap on one of them broke. Ack!

Comments

Re: Impressive patience

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

You develop a thick skin in this business.

Re: Impressive patience

[minstrel70.livejournal.com]

But surely someone out there actually appreciates art. Am I asking too much of my fellow man?

Next time I'm in the neighborhood, I'd love to see you dance. A talent and skill that I've never had.

Re: Impressive patience

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

Yeah, some people do appreciate art: other artists. That's why I'd much rather perform in venues where people expect art. It draws the right sort of audience.

I wouldn't say I had a talent for dance. It's pretty much all skill. Learning this dance wasn't the most natural thing for me.

[ex-digitalis869.livejournal.com]

Good god, what a day. Hurrah for tomorrow.

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

Absolutely!

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

I hope my next performance has no drunks at all. Tipsy, I can handle. But staggering, rude, drooling-on-oneself drunk I detest.

[nehmet.livejournal.com]

Aaaah! And I thought my last show was nightmarish!

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

Maybe I'm just banking up. If that's the case, my next hundred shows should be smooth as satin!