I’m thinking perhaps Nigel has been reading too much Stephenie Meyer. Why all the fascination with “beasts,” Nigel? Last night this was his go-to word to describe any and all female dancers performing. We get the impression that if these ladies don’t appear on stage growling and clawing at the moon, Nigel will be sorely disappointed. Those of us who were less concerned with dancing lycanthropy were excited for the return of one of the best competition shows on television.
Let’s dance, let’s shout, and shake our bodies down to the ground.
Hi gang. Hope you are having a wonderful week. We have updated the Writer’s Guide to reflect the new changes in the theme. If you are a Crasstalk author, please check it out.
After an interminable wait, America’s Best Dance Crew is finally back! I have been on the lookout for what seems like years (ok, months) but premiere night has finally come! As always, the invisible “Randy Jackson” was pulled out to do an introduction only to be put away in the American Idol drawer until the final episode where he will present the trophy and everyone can wonder “Who is that?” again.
In any case, some of the changes this season include focusing on a particular artist per week. This week was Lil Wayne and we’ve been promised Ke$ha (thankfully, that is the the first time I’m ever typing that), Katy Perry, and Justin Bieber among others. This year’s guest judge is Dominick Sandoval from Quest Crew (and So You Think You Can Dance), one of my personal favorites. Now, I’m not going to profess to be a dance expert or anything but I sure enjoy the hell out of this show as well as SYTYCD. And, I’ve been known to take a class or two myself, just enough to know that I suck but can appreciate how hard it is to do any of that stuff.
This episode focused on the first five crews: I aM Me (Houston, TX), Eclectic Gentlemen (North Hollywood, CA), Request Dance Crew (Auckland, New Zealand), Phunk Phenomenon (Boston, MA), and Street Kingdom (Los Angeles, CA).
First up was I aM Me crew, which stands for Inspire, Motivate and Energize. Watching the intro, I noticed one guy who looked familiar and holy crap, is that Phillip Chbeeb from SYTYCD season 5? Awesome! I always love it when I see familiar faces. This guy was amazing in his popping and he was able to stick it out for quite a bit on that show through many styles until the ill-fated Russian folk dancing experiment in week 5 where they just kinda whirled around a lot. But, Phillip is a much better dancer than that and this group did a really great performance to “Right Above It” to kick off the season. Sharp, inventive, and their strength was in their intricate hand movements. One of the highlights was a tutting section that felt very kaleidoscope-like. Dominick said that this was the way to open the season.
Next up was Phunk Phenomenon, a group whose style is self-described “organized chaos”. One of the defining points of this group is that there are three brothers who ended up losing their father before they were able to be on the show which as everyone knows in reality tv, this means that they might go home. Cute group. I thought they were sharp and danced their asses off. The song was “A Milli”.
On to the group from New Zealand, Request Crew. Nice to see that ABDC is opening itself up to the world. These girls are all of Polynesian background and have nicknamed their style “Polyswag” which was out in full force during the song “Knockout”. They were ok. They’ll probably stick around for a bit and I’m looking forward to seeing more although for some reason they made me nostalgic for Beat Freaks from season 3.
Now for some elegance from the sexy guys in bow ties, Eclectic Gentlemen from North Hollywood, CA dancing to “Fireman”. They also got on my watch list for ones who might go home since more crying was involved during the intro. During the critique, the first words that came out from D-trix were “Ya’ll making this waaaaaayyyy tooo hard” and I was like uh oh, that doesn’t sound promising. I also thought he was gonna call them out for dressing like Quest Crew during one of their final performances. It didn’t get any better with L’il Mama’s observation that they went from smooth to hard-hitting and that by being on the show they already knew what it is and that they should just “keep pressing forward and not let anyone stop them from being what they want to be”. Okay,…got it. Trying to say something without really saying anything, gotcha. JC Chasez did get into some choreo critique and said that they seemed stiff. Ok, I bet it’s them that go.
And finally Street Kingdom from LA. Now THIS was getting amazing. Raised on the inner streets of South Central and being from quite difficult backgrounds, this group has found fellowship in the church. Ceasare “Tight-Eyez” Willis is one of the original members of krumping which is an aggressive style of dance and was born out of trying to channel negative circumstances into positive expression. If you haven’t, definitely go and Netflix “Rize”, which Willis is in and was shot by David LaChapelle. It’s a very interesting look at the origins of krump and clowning – its predecessor – and what role it has played in its community. Some of the visuals are just stunning. So, of course they are my favorites and I am very curious to see how they do. I impress easily but I’m so impressed that they are on this show. They have more members than life itself anyways – 10 at last count. Obviously they are not in this for the prize money.
So in the end, of course Street Kingdom just aced through to the next week, followed by Phunk Phenomenon. I aM Me made it which brought it down to the girls and the Gentlemen. In the end, it was the Gentlemen that had to go home, as expected. Overall, it looks like an extremely promising season. There was no group that I could just say that I hated or just visibly sucked, so that was a relief. Who are your favorites? Anything stand out to you?
On Friday, I received an e-mail from the pole dancing studio where I take classes notifying me that it was closing as of April 3. My heart sank a bit at the news. Not only because I’ll miss visiting that studio and the women who gathered there, but because of how much the space helped me.
While pole dancing may be seen as the latest workout du jour for just about anyone, including Jesus, it also provided (at least) one woman — me — with a way to find the dormant sexiness and awaken it.
Two years ago, I decided to sign up for Level 1 at the studio on a whim. I’d never done anything like pole dancing and after signing up, kept thinking, “Oh god, what the hell is my fat ass going to do on this fucking pole?!!”
Thankfully, that feeling quickly faded away. The studio space was small, which meant each class only had six women at a maximum. Each woman had their own story, some saw the class as a means of getting exercise, some wanted to learn how to pole dance for flirtation with their significant other, and then there were women like me — very shy, somewhat awkward, and convinced that they couldn’t be sexy if their life depended on it.
After the first class, I was hooked…and bruised in placed I’d never been bruised before. There was just something freeing about the experience. No one laughed at me if I couldn’t do the pole trick perfectly after 10 tries. Instead, there was constant encouragement from everyone.
From the freedom found in the studio, it seeped into my everyday life. Slowly but surely, I noticed myself buying flirtier underthings, thigh-high stockings, and shoes with a four-inch (or more) heel. I held my head a bit higher. My friends saw my confidence improving.
Since that first class, I went on to take a couple more and performed in the first “recital” held in the studio. (The above photo may or may not be of yours truly.) Until a knee injury forced me to slow down, I visited weekly to work out with a group of industry pole performers who frequented the studio. My range of motion is still great and as my instructor/friend Holladay once said, “You may not have a boyfriend now, but I’ll make you flexible enough to make people think you do!” Indeed she did.
Although I would be the first in admitting I still have many hurdles to get over before becoming fully happy with myself, taking classes at that studio and meeting some great people along the way has helped in removing many of those obstacles out of the way.
The Portland-based band, The Ravishers, recently released a video for their song, “Underachievers,” which includes scenes filmed at my favorite studio. One of my teachers, who I also count as one of my friends, is shown in studio scenes, too.
So long Primal Beginnings, and thank you for all you’ve done.
Dancing has been called many things – sex with your clothes on is one. But that doesn’t explain why you can still do it with your parents or a friend or your sister and it’s not weird. What does explain that is that dancing is one of the most fun things people ever concocted.
WASPs ain’t inclined to boogaloo. Or boogie. For us, a boogie something for which you need a tissue. We’re not wired in such a manner. We waltz or two-step and that’s kind of it. Fortunately, I’m half a guido. So I do have a few good moves. Most of them are featured in the video above.
Let’s start with Madonna’s “Holiday”. I’ve never been at a family function where this was played and Mom Crocker didn’t come over, grab me, and proceed to Tear. It. Up. Neither of us gets through it without hysterical giggles. And there’s history there.
In 1983, I was 16 and the proud owner of Madonna’s first album. On vinyl! I hosted my own birthday party, and convinced Mom and Dad to go out. But, like all smart parents, they left late and came home early. My friends were – are – nice people, so there were no real worries. I found out more about this later.
Seeing Mom and Dad come downstairs in their going-out finery was nice. Mom had on this gorgeous pink silk suit with a cream-colored blouse and pink linen stilettos, and her hair was up in an amazing chignon with a marcasite barrette, and she looked like a lovely Dynasty Mom. Dad was in a Mad Men-era navy suit with shiny shoes, and had stolen one of my skinny ties from my closet. That should have been my clue. This Dad was a much-changed Dad from the Saturday- morning- with- a plate- of- waffles version.
A dinner comprised of all hors d’ouvres is The WASPy Way, and an East Williston tradition. So, at 8 or so, about 30 nicely-dressed kids showed up. No one was going home hungry. The horror unfolded shortly after. Mom and Dad greeted everyone and swept off into the foyer.
But there’s a lot of house, and once you see someone in the foyer, it’s kind of not always clear to a busy teenaged host that they’ve actually gone. I was pouring drinks and passing little party dogs in pastry and in general having a blast.
My friend Devin told me “Your folks are outré”, about 10 minutes in. The living room had gotten quiet, I noticed. Everyone seemed to be watching something hilarious unfolding in the kitchen.
Madonna’s “Holiday” was on the stereo, and my parents were dancing.In front of the dishwasher.
For some reason, my parents LOVE Madonna’s first effort. This has survived nearly 30 years. I’ll never know why and I’m not sure I want to. This was obvious as they shook it before the KitchenAid. There were 14 people peeking in from the butler’s pantry and 10 more from the foyer. Mom’s skirt, in the fashion of the time, was narrow at the knees, so she hiked it up a bit and every girl yelled “WOO!” Dad did a THING called The Bristol Stomp. I was afraid he was having a stroke.
“Holiday-ay!” yelled Mom.
“Cele-BRAY-ayte!”, said Dad.
“We need a holi-DAY-ay!” they sang together.
I about died of red roaring shame. Because the one thing worse than having overbearing parents is having cool ones. Or ones who think they’re cool and are kind of a little off. My friends were laughing, some with them, some at them.
But every time we’re all together at a family event, Mom fiddles with the music, pops in a Madonna CD – she must wedge three copies into her bag right after she puts her earrings on. Then she finds me – she can always find me no matter how I hide – sashays over and asks me to dance while my father points and laughs. I pretend to be annoyed. She knows I’m not. She’ll be doing this when she needs a walker to ambulatory.
Leave your funny, tragic, wardrobe-malfunctioning stories in the comments, but I just remembered one more.
++++++
2004. My college friend Dominic was marrying his beloved and asked me to be an usher. After the short ceremony, we piled into the limo for the long trip to the ersatz Water Mill catering hall. (Ever been to one of those on LI? They ALL look like The Sopranos’ abode. Marble tile! Brass n’glass! Flowers tormented into out-of-season blooming!)
There were seven guys in the limo, including a big, burly guido who I didn’t know. I promptly forgot all about the fact that my own beloved was on his way to the reception in his own car, and commenced a mental affairette in my head with the burly guido man.
Kiss me, you fool!
Let’s call him Big Joe. A LOT of drinkin’ was going on in that limo! Big Joe put away about a fifth of scotch himself. But he was so big and hot I overlooked it. Some nugget of genius had brought Doritos. Dorito orange cheez paste is tough on a tuxedo. Big Joe ate a whole bag, and I got to dab at his shirt and lapels with seltzer water to remove said orange cheez paste. At this point I was looking at him and chewing ice cubes.
At the reception, I collected myself, calmed down, and acted like a good usher should. This involves working the room for lonely ladies and asking them to dance. So, I’m on the dance floor with Dominck’s cousin Francine. The bass is loud, as it always is. The song was a favorite classic: Jamiroquai’s “You Give Me Something”. Francine’s really into it, and so am I, and we’re doing a little waltzy thing I learned in high school.
Then I spot Big Joe and he’s looking a bit worse for wear. And at a moment of quiet… he FARTS. It was a blast like the trumpet of a horny elephant with a little wet squeak at the end. Francine grabbed my hand. “Did you just hear…”
Well, everyone did and there was no dog to blame it on. Then came the stench. Low tide. Dorito cheez, scotch fumes, eggs, maybe a soupcon of rotten meat.
The dance floor cleared like the upper class decks on the Titanic, leaving Big Joe swaying at its center. That’s pretty much a confession in my book. His erstwhile dance partner was in parts unknown, probably Kalamazoo. People were muttering some pretty terrible things about Big Joe.
Francine looked like she might barf, until I started laughing with actual tears, which got her started. The hapless DJ segued into KC And The Sunshine Band’s “That’s The Way I Like It”. Francine was laughing so hard she cried off her makeup. The oblivious bride wandered by and said “You two are sure having fun…” I said “Oh honey, we’re having a BLAST!” Francine pulled me to a now-empty table where we sat so she could convulse in peace. We watched as the reek spread to people who hadn’t heard the actual Trumpet Of Doom.
Every song lyric became a double-entendre.
“Yowza, yowza, fuckin’ yowza!” she howled. “I thing Big Joe just pooed!”
“You can feel it! It’s electric!” I gasped when they played The Electric Slide.
“I bet he’s in the can, Shaking His Groove Thing!”
“Pardon me boys? Was that the Chattanooga choo-choo?” More tears.
This went on for 20 minutes, until our respective spouses teamed up to find us. Mr. Francine was none too happy to be abandoned at a wedding where he didn’t know anyone and finding his wife yukking it up with a Gay. My own Cap’n had heard what happened from the bride herself, who was so angry she wanted him to accompany her as she asked Big Joe to sober up in the bridal suite. None of them thought this was funny at all.
I walked Francine to the lobby restrooms so she could fix her makeup, followed by our husbands and the still annoyed bride, who had dispatched the maitre’d to the still-empty dance floor with a can of Glade.
“Just a second.” I said. Paused by the table in the lobby, I wrote in the Guest Book: “BIG JOE’S ASS”.
