Crazy Forever

Haven't been offered anything for a while but in a week I received two. The first was tickets to see a show. Yes I'd love to, I said (without reading what it was that I was accepting - something about getting things for free - don't really care what it is, its free!) Anyway it turned out to be a raunchy erotic review transferred from Paris' Crazy Horse Club. Thought about asking Bails but decided that there was a more appropriate companion in my life who might actually really enjoy it. And he agreed to come. It only took the promise of toplessness for him to be in. Excellent. Didn't really fancy going as part of an all female couple to a titty show.

So behind the Southbank Centre they have set up a temporary building with a tent-like theatre inside - drapped in red cloth, lots of bevelled-edged mirrors and a pillar-box sized stage opening. We had platinum tickets which meant we were sitting at the very front at a table. Close enough to see everything. We were sharing the table with a woman who writes for Burlesque Beat (can't link to it becuase it seems to have a trojan infection) - she was hyper excited.

So there were "perfectly formed" women dancers, wearing virtually nothing save for some painted on pubic hairs and a variety of g-strings. Raunchy music and good choreography. Group dances and individual routines. Great lighting effects - sometimes strobe and sometimes contouring across the dancers bodies, poles, stripping and mincing walks. All greatly appreciated by the male companion. Appreciates them were the exact words. I too can appreciate them but found it strangely untitilating.

My favourite was the routine which included a mirror down the centre of the stage with the dancers pushing their hands, then arms up over the mirror so that a double-ended image happened - once the whole body was used it was sort of like some weird siamese twins trying to pull apart from each other. Slightly alien. And then a routine with a man and woman drunk and snorting coke competing with each other drumming on a table in a sort of drug addled river dance. Finally a pole dancing where the dancers were all doing the same routine in slightly different timing which was reminiscent of the dancing in Sweet Charity.

Some men behind were discussing the fact that the women's bodies looked heavily made-up. In the second half the audience loosened up and there was a bit of catcalling. But nothing like the time at Nux Vomica when the stipper of the year played the violin and melted ice-cubes in her vjj - all the men jumped onto chairs and howled like wolves. Stripping was common at Nux but usually involved artistes who were painted green or other artisitic oddities which didn't cause this reaction. After this we suggested to the organiser that maybe it would be good to have a putting-on next time alongside all the taking-off.

Anyway Crazy Forever had a good atmostphere, some interesting choreography and was greatly appreciated by the male portion of the party. Me, I thought it was a little bit tame. Or perhaps I need something else to get turned on - some men perhaps, some smells, slightly different visuals...

Free Timeout

Finally a freebie that is something I actually would have paid to read (unlike the Metro, Shortlist, Sport etc). Free Timeout shoved into my hand this morning. Haven't actually read timeout for a ages - it had me laughing out loud. Not as thick and comprehensive as the pay-for version but a good teaser for getting interested to find out more. Could be time for more exciting going out...

Morning Meeting

Waiting at Highbury and Islington to catch the train to Moorgate. Always the third carriage - because it is closer to the exit leading to the Northern line. Step on and surprisingly frequently bump into him. There is a momentary decision about whether to be cool and wait to be noticed or to be forward and prod the recognition. Those around are often surprised at what may seem like an overly familiar initial meeting. It not being clear what the relationship status is - colleagues, acquaintances, friends, lovers - who's to say initially.  The chat is mildly flirtatious and knowing. Gentle morning teasing. A slight leaning together. Sexual frisson not so common on the train to work. After three stops there is walking to the tube. A game of guess which tie he may be wearing with the shirt he has on and a quick smell for approval of the cologne he has chosen for the day. Then a swift one stop on the tube and he is off with a promise to give me a shout.

Steam Room Talk

Usually the steam room is quiet - a haven of internal thoughts and dealing with the damp heat working over the skin and into the lungs.

This evening a woman sat pontificating about the sizism at the legal firm she works in (I can't tell you the name but it's in Chancery Lane). They take on trainees but they are always blond and between sizes 6 and 10. They take on black male trainees sometimes but none of them have ever been hired. It's not like in America where the best person for the job gets it no matter what or who they are.

Other people in the steam started to look away, raising their eyebrows. She finally left. Then another woman came in and started talking about the lamb curry dinner waiting at home. She was going to open champagne to have with it. The Muslim men in the steam tutted disapprovingly. On a Monday night? Yes she giggled. Lovely. She talked about the method and ingredients she had used. One man said - it means nothing to me, I don't cook. At which she started to harangue him about expecting women to cook, clean and have babies for him - why does he expect women to do these things for him? Because all women are submissive by nature.

Silence in the steam. Lead balloon. I think you should be careful making those gross generalisations, say I. Well don't you think so? He asked. No I don't I said.

Fortunately before I could get in a fight the lifeguard came to ask the women to leave because the male only session had started.

First visit to the vets

Took the kittens to the vets for their first procedures this week. Philomena was spayed, and Leopold was castrated. Can't tell you how guilty it made me feel. However it was that or incest babies. The girl cat has to wear a cone for 10 days and the boy cat thinks she's some kind of  monster and keeps hissing at her. She keeps trying to walk backwards to get the collar off - to no avail.

Three days later they were due for a check up. Philomena has completely changed personality and went into the basket of her own free will. Leopold put up a fight, scratched and bit me. So I left him behind.

It's all a trauma. And not cheap either!