All set to the tune of The Strangers' "Crab
I'm telling you,
these people are the rocket scientists of burlesque. They
And as if, by this
point, we hadn't been treated to enough visual
stimulation, my new husband (he doesn't know it
yet) Roky Roulette aka Rice-a-Roni from San Francisco
literally bounced onto the stage.
He was so insane,
hyperactive and silly, I wanted to take him home. This
guy frantically jumped up and down on a pogo stick
while stripping out of a leisure suit.
With hair flailing,
gold teeth shining, the largest bush EVER poking
out of his speedo, he fell down once, knocking
everything over in his path, and then got back
up, keeping his frantic energy, and continued to
go to town on that pogo stick.
Yes, I simultaneously peed my
pants AND fell in love that night.
The Iggy Hop of contemporary
burlesque and the World's Only Pogostriptease
Artist is available for all kinds of events and
Roky may be contacted at www.rokyroulette.com or firstname.lastname@example.org.
Our sides in pain
from doubled-over laughter, we had to get a drink. A
real one, this time.
Our feet were killing
us from our earlier exploits of museum walking,
so we decided to sit down in the lounge and just
drink our foot-pain away.
It seemed the show
was over anyway, and the club slowly turned back
into the cheesy Avalon I have unfortunately grown
accustomed to. Neither the change in music
nor the clothing was even remotely interesting. It
was almost even offensive, in comparison to the
previous feast of self-expression we were witness
to. This overtaking of the club and the resulting
clash of the two cultures was a funny thing to
witness in itself.
The burlesque crowd
couldn't pack up and get out fast enough to avoid
the ever-growing obnoxious mainstream crowd. We
were pleasantly amused by this, watching the Amazon
go-go dancers get overrun with New Jersey strip-mall
girls that wanted to stand up on a high box and
get noticed for their comparatively inane abilities
to sway their hips back and forth.
We wanted to leave,
too. These new people were only interesting
for a limited amount of time.
Pushing open the
exit door, a woman behind us obviously from the
festival, was in such a hurry to escape she pushed
us and yelled at us to move.
I said, "I was trying
to open the fucking door". Outside in the
sudden downpour of rain, her butch side confronted
me and there we were, nose to nose.
"What did you just say to me?"
Gulp. (Me and my fucking
"Um..I said I was trying to open
Her eyes softened,
as she gently slid her hand down my face and told
me I was pretty. I thanked her. Conflict
over. She left; we hailed a cab, laughing
at how frantic she was to leave that place.
I have to wonder.maybe
we wouldn't be at war if we caressed our enemy
and told them they were pretty. I think she
should go over to Iraq and end the war for us. That
is, if she could bring herself to calling hairy
men pretty. Hm. I doubt that would
work. So much for world peace. I suppose
if a man, in the midst of conflict were to pause
and stroke another man's face, proclaiming his
beauty, this world might actually be much more
violent. Or, perhaps a bit less sexually
Did I say I had
a fantastic time at the Burlesque Festival? What
was once a tiny little dying sideshow found on
the outskirts of society is now packing a club
as big as Avalon and drawing huge sponsors, and
lots of press.
Burlesque is about to really hit. So fasten your seatbelts for a fabulous
future of whimsy and twirling tassel-clad titties. Oh, and don't forget
to attend the many sideshows Coney Island has to offer this summer highlighting
several of the above-mentioned burlesque acts. A calendar of events can
also be obtained through the festival's website.
Lady Ace Lady Ace presents
STRUT at BOYSROOM every Friday.
STRUT features Burlesque
boys and girls, go-go boys & girls,
YOU in your underwear and a great DANCE PARTY.
Come join LADY ACE after the Pussycat Lounge for some late night fun & frolicking
with your favorite NYC Burlesque stars! www.thebombshellgirls