Now that you all know that I can’t type to save my life, especially when drunk, I feel rested and recovered enough to tackle the translation of my notes from the Colorado Pole Competition.
I said goodbye to David C. Owen this morning and am ready to go.
His Spotting and Bailouts workshop yesterday was brilliant, by the way. I felt like death which was actually okay because the class was about how to survive a fall or bail out of a move safely. Yesterday falling off the pole was something I could definitely do. On to the translation.
I want to know where the idiots at.
Best quote ever from the CPC. Erica Cobb, deejay from 92.5 The Wolf. She emceed the event and introduced each performer and read their bios.
First let me say that she does not have a face for radio. Homegirl is fine.
There were more PhDs, scientists, researchers, teachers, mothers of multiple children, and even a doctor in the line-up of competitors. Seriously, it got a little annoying.
After introducing the 15th highly accomplished dancer, she put down her paper and said, “I wanna know where the idiots are at.” Not in that crowd, unless you count me.
i was embarrased to only be able to do five (dead) so I figured I better get in on it soon before Jen West wastes me.
A friendly pull-up contest started up at the after party on the roof of Spill Lounge. There were a couple cabanas and I saw someone give one of the supports a little test tug.
I’m a pushy drunk and saw an opportunity to show off a little. I also wanted to make sure that if there was going to be a pull-up contest, that I got to go first. While I can do some pull-ups, I can’t hold a candle to everyone else in the room.
My only opportunity to impress is by being the first woman up.
I was able to bust out five (but Lonny says four, FUCK YOU) pull-ups from a dead hang and and looked badass until Jen West (co-owner of 3sixT Pole Dance Fitness in Denver) got up there and did thirty.
Watchign men deal wit their penises shrivel and grow at the same tiem
I watched with great amusement as the non-pole crowd observed (civilians, so to speak) and were unable to comprehend why so many hot women were doing pull-ups in push-up bras.
Twirlgirl sauntered up in her stilettos, leather pants and hard rock hair looking like a heavy metal dream come true. I could see the confusion on the men’s faces as they were both turned on and emasculated at the same time.
chastizing the good docdtor for showing off wit his one arm pull ups while smirking
Right, then Ken started doing crazy one armed pull-ups while smirking and mugging at the crowd. He hung from one flexed arm (the better to show off his biceps my dear) with his body pulled into tight tuck. He swiveled around the grinned and laughed and made it look as effortless as a kid playing around on a swing set. It was badass.
Meryi didn’t know what to dorder at the bar beucase she’s 21. Duh.
Mary joined us in the minivan for the ride to Denver. Who knew my mom-mobile had enough power to achieve escape velocity from Boulder’s gravitational field?
She’s kind of an enigma wrapped in a mystery. Mary in my car is very different than Mary in her blog. But I was determined to break her down. Yes, I changed her name. TO PROTECT HER IDENTITY. Diabolical, no?
It wasn’t until we got to the bar did I figure a few things out. Lonny and I went up and snappily ordered our drinks and she just stood there for a few minutes.
Me: Would you like something to drink?
Me (trying a slightly different question): What would you like to drink?
Mary: I don’t know.
But we’re still standing here.
Me: Okay. Do you drink at all? Would you like a soft drink? What do you like to drink?
Mary: I like beer, wine, vodka.
Well that just about covers it.
Me: I’m pretty sure they have all those things here.
Me: How about a beer? Or maybe a vodka tonic?
Mary: I’m not sure.
Me: I’m gonna stand over there because this is stressing me out.
She caught up with me a few minutes later with a vodka cranberry in her hands.
Mary: I found something to drink!
Me: Yay! I knew you could do it!
Then I thought about it for a minute and asked, “How old are you?”
Mary: I’m 21.
Me: Ohhhhh! I get it! You just aren’t used to ordered drinks because you’ve never been able to do it before!
And I was again reminded of how damn old I am. I am literally old enough to be her mother. I suppose it’s one of the pitfalls of pole dancing (and probably any kind of dancing except, maybe polka), the constant reminder of my age in comparison to others. It’s not a bad thing, though. Really.
empariting deep thoughts onto Meri while totallhy drunk and realizing how stupid I sound
After the party we loaded up in the minivan to head back to Boulder. Fortunately Lonny was driving because I had some serious words of wisdom to bestow upon the young and impressionable Mary. For instance.
“life is both long and short” duh
Did I mention I was wasted? I really hope that one drink she had (plus the shot I made her do) got her equally drunk otherwise she’s probably blogging about how annoying old people are; they think they just know everything but really are stupid and cliché.
Sorry for the drunk words of wisdome. I’m an idot.
If she does blog about how stupid and old I am, I hope she will at least draw a flattering cartoon of me, hopefully as an adorable squirrel-human hybrid.
Moving right along.
using a whole week’s worht of ROC on mhy face because I was too drunk. But sonya said her dermatogligist told me that in ten years I’d regret not having used retinol in my 40s.
Apparently I am super strong when I’m drunk because I got home and washed my face and tried to apply the anti-aging cream my friend’s dermatologist promised me (her) that I (she) would regret not using when I’m (she’s) 50 and it’s too late.
Jeez, when you put it that way …
I squeezed way too hard and half the tube came gooshing out. Now my arms and legs are reaping the benefits of Retinol. Can you see the difference?
Can you see why I couldn’t do this yesterday? This was seriously hard work.
Lemony wanted to know if yesterday’s post was actually posted while drunk. She said that would have taken serious balls.
Well, no. I was sober when I posted it, which is why some of the words were actually spelled correctly.
She was like, “I was wondering if you could even type. Are you missing fingers?” When I’m not drunk, I do. Given how many of my posts are semi-coherent, my loved-ones can rest assured that I am sober most of the time. But the next time I tie one on I’m going to post that shit right away. For Lemony. Because she’s a winner.
Time to cut the crap.
In other news: