A few months ago I was hanging out with my friend, Bethany. Not sure how it came to this but I was trying very hard to skip in place.
“I just can’t do it,” I told her. “I don’t know what it is. I can skip forward but not in place. Or backwards.”
“It’s not hard. Look,” she said and then she demonstrated an adorable Skip In Place.
Fast forward to the dance call backs on Saturday and sure enough, in the Shoeless Joe choreography, there was a Skip In Place. Also, just regular skipping. I could do the first 16 counts or so and then I’d skip forward, then try to skip in place and lose it. I was probably over thinking it, because I typically do, but I wasn’t sure that I was on the right foot to segue into the next move and then the dance would dissolve.
To top it off, I have a problem of being vocal about my mistakes. I know. Shocker, right? When I was a surgical assistant I had to learn to not say “Oops!” “Shoot” or “Poop” while in surgery. If the patient is awake and hears that…not very comforting. I do the same thing when I’m dancing. Every mis-step announced with a Gosh Darn or something. Argh! (Oh and that too….)
So I didn’t do so hot on that number. I feel like I did better on the Lola number but…I was still probably one of the worst of the dancers. I know y’all think I’m great but you’ve never seen me do this stuff. It’s not pretty.
On Sunday night I told Man, “I think I hurt my back a little during the dance audition…”
“I’m thinking during the Lola dance…there’s this move and I think I over extended my back a little.”
We both started laughing at me because seriously, these are basic dance moves that I’m injuring myself on. Lame!
So last night I was waiting and waiting to hear back on the casting assignments. I entertained and distracted myself by volleying texts with my friend, Kelli. This segued into a volley of our favorite bloggers.
I absolutely adore The Bloggess! She’s so funny. If you recall, I’ve mentioned her before. Go here: http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/ to read the blog that won me over. I read her book too and what really kills is that our lives run kind of parallel. She’s funnier and crazier than me though so she has a blog that goes viral and gets book offers. Really pisses me off! Get this: last night I’m checking in on her blog and I find a blog where she brings home a sloth. I kid you not people! How?! That was my idea!! Grrrrr…. I’ll get you Bloggess…one day… (That was not an actual threat. Please don’t sue me or something. I just love you. And loathe you…dream stealer.)
Anywhoo, I also took this long torturous evening to demonstrate the Lola dance to Man. It starts with some sexy slow walks forward, turn away and then a coy look back over the shoulder, dip and then swing that booty to the left and then right with hands on the lower back.
You are probably laughing already.
I finished up the dance with a Shakira toosh shake at the end.
“Well?” I ask Man.
“Looks like your back must still be hurting.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I just did my best sexy moves and you say, ‘it looks like your back hurts?!’ Ah geez. I’m not getting that part.”
“Well, does it? Your back hurt, I mean?”
“No it doesn’t hurt! That’s me dancing!”
“Oh no…” he said through chuckles.
“Crap. I probably won’t get anything that involves dancing.”
“They liked your Crazy Face,” he hopefully offered.
“Yeah…I’m not sure about that anymore.”
Close to 9 p.m. I finally got an e-mail with the casting assignments. I got a part as a Doo Wop Girl in Little Shop of Horrors which is on my theater bucket list (Yea!) and a part as a cop in the Cop Song from Urine Town. (Google it! Super fun song!) I also get to be in all other adult ensemble parts.
Not surprising since my dancing appears that I’m performing injured.
“Time to take a dance class,” Man said.
“I did. I tried that tap class and the instructor said, ‘sometimes the dance chooses the dancer. I don’t think tap is choosing you.'”
“Yeah. She said I should try other dances until I find the one that ‘chooses’ me. I can’t even Skip In Place.”
During my Text Volley’s with Kelli she mentioned that she took a modern dance class with a friend and the instructor told her that her “lobster claws” were “distracting.” Brutal! That to say, I’m not the only one with issues. You know? Jazz Hands, Kelli. Jazz Hands.
“You seem disappointed,” Man observed.
“I am. I shouldn’t be. I get to be a Doo Wop Girl and I’ve always, always wanted that part. Your brother would be the dentist and I would be a Doo Wop Girl.” (I wish I could do a show with BIL. Adding to my theater Bucket List.)
“And you get to be in that cop song. Probably because of your Crazy Face.”
“That’s not the song for Crazy Face. They aren’t using me in that song.”
“You scared them.”
“Apparently… I would just like to one day get a role that has an actual NAME instead of a description. Seamstress, aristocrat, nun, Doo Wop Girl, cop…”
“Baby, you have only done three shows. Only two here in Denver and none with this group at all. You always get call backs and that’s with other people who have training and experience. You are chalk full of talent. You just need some training and more experience.”
“Yeah… Dance lessons. All the dance classes for adults are so focused. I don’t just need to learn tap. I need other dances under my belt too. I need to learn to Skip In Place!”
“You’ll learn it. Maybe even in this show.”
“Yep. Every show is more experience and more training!” I tried to pep up.
I went to bed frustrated again with my mediocrity. Average blog. Average performance talent. Average artist. Below average house keeper….
“Maybe I’ll get to wear a really cute outfit as a Doo Wop Girl,” I whispered hopefully to Man.
“I bet you will,” he said in a comforting tone. “You’re just getting started, Babe. You have a great start.”