Pandora's Box

I need to remember to bring a pen with me everywhere I go. When I get inspired to write, I cannot deny the calling. So tonight at the Suicide Girls Live Burlesque show, having no other writing utensil available, I made cryptic notes to myself on the show flyer with my lipstick. Cryptic because I didn't want to use up my entire tube of $20 lipstick in one night. I was able to decode most of the notes except for this one: "SG? closties off .L NC" Any guess what that means? Your guess is as good as mine.

So the show started out with what I referred to as "boys making noise." The opening band was bad. And I mean bad. I wouldn't call that music. I was unable to decipher any of the lyrics. C was certain that the refrain to one song was, "Everybody save the dogs." I think their so-called music was akin to those inkblot tests that psychiatrists use. You can turn the sounds into anything you want. And why doesn't it surprise me that C was hearing that they were going to save the dogs?

The following band, The Fitt, was much better. They played very catchy tunes, unquestionably musical. The only thing missing with the second band was eye candy. In a group of five, not a single pretty boy. The absence was tolerable for the first few songs until I remembered why we paid the $15 at the door - to see cute tattood and pierced chicks getting half-naked.

The first suicide girl to perform was Pearl. She had shortly cropped purple hair and came out in an interesting getup, including funky sunglasses. She hoola-hooped her way onto the stage. This was C's favorite performance of the night. Pearl managed to do a full strip-tease, not leaving out a single sensual hip gyration, all the while keeping the hoola-hoop in motion. I was quite impressed.

Another gal came onto stage draped in a black semi-sheer sheet, dancing to the beat of a Nice Inch Nails tune (I forget which one, as fond as I was of them when they first came out, all their songs sound roughly the same to me). The most thought-provoking aspect to her dance was that she had a tournequet around each limb (arms and legs - tied loosely for theatrical purposes). The blatant reference to IV drug use was shocking, but almost thrilling in its edginess.

Then there was the gal dresssed in a tough grungy outfit - garters with a tight black top that had been ripped to shreds. She danced to You Shook Me by AC/DC and when the lyrics sang out, "I came..." she shook a bottle of beer and sprayed its frothy foam onto the front row of the audience. She then took some swigs of her beer and spat them out at the audience. She was a petite sprightly little thing with a pretty face. The juxtaposition of her appearance with her clothes and behavior was quite appealing.

Then there was the more common routines of school girls wearing dog collars and a Mrs. Robinson act.

For the grand finale, the gals spread chocolate sauce and whipped cream all over each other and again the front row of the audience.

C and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, though Becca's feminist perspective was offended at least once or twice throughout the night.

And best of all? I was happy to finally have an occasion to wear my new red shoes!