Last night I once again traveled to Stock’s to take watch the performance of The California Dolls.
The Dolls were advertised as a burlesque group from Los Angeles, who had previously come to Wolf Point. After spending most of the day watching MMA, this was kind of a nice break.
The moment I walked into the door, I saw two firemen, who recognized me as “The Newspaper Guy,” then they threw their hands at their face, begging for me not to take pictures. Gym Class Heroes’ “Yourself Back Home” blasted through the speakers. Part of me took this as a sign that I should probably get back to the apartment.
Following Gym Class Heroes came the infectious ballad “Blurred Lines.”
Now, I have not seen the MTV Video Music Awards of Miley Cyrus and Robin Thicke, so this song has not been completely ruined for me. Still, this is a song that has repeatedly gotten stuck in my head during several times during the summer. There have been random times where I’ll just be minding my own business and Robin Thicke’s voice will pop into my head.
It would happen at work.
My boss Darla: Make sure you bring a camera and press pass to the game … “because you’re a good girl.”
I’ll be trying to order coffee at McDonalds and it will show up.
Barista: “Any cream or sugar for this coffee? … “I know you want it … I know you want it.”
I’ll even be listening to an episode of the “Steve Austin Show” podcast.
Steve Austin: All right Mo, the word of the day is duggame, which kind of sounds like hug me… “What rhymes with huge me?”
The Dolls said their show was to begin at 10 p.m., though they decided to meet with some of the customers before going to change into their tops and bikinis. One of the Dolls, a blond who resembled Brooke Hogan, noticed I had my writing pad. She asked what I was doing. Rather than giving my usual response of “I write things down to keep me sober,” I told her I was writing notes about some of the fights earlier.
When Brooke asked which fights took place, I decided to simply say “not UFC,” instead of confusing her with the different promotions and fighters that encompass mainstream mixed martial arts.
The Dolls mostly talked with the firefighters. The brunette mentioned she liked men in uniform and told the firefighters they were going to be stripping for her later. One of the firemen, who I’ll Gabriel because he looks like the angel from Supernatural, said he wasn’t, to which the Doll said she would be unhappy camper and “unhappy campers start fires.”
I have to admit it was good to have some humor at the tavern. It countered the conversation that I was hearing from the next table.
It was a love story of sorts. The woman sat with who I assumed was her ex because she kept thanking him and repeating how “he had her” and “he had been her world.” Although this seems like a typical love story, it kind of grows dark to where I won’t share the details. All I will say is I later left my table and went to the bar to get away from it. When she went to pay for her tab, she put the cans down next to me and i had this feeling she knew I heard her conversation.
Another part of the night where humor crept in was when the MC for the dolls was being hit on by a man who was slurring in his words. She told him that grabbing her butt would be the last thing he would do. Apparently he took the term “stripper show” seriously.
After several minutes of humorous events, including getting slapped in the rear end by Gabriel, the show began. This is where being a graduate from a liberal arts college and a big city kid can be at a disadvantage.
When I think of burlesque, I think of more, pomp and pageantry. I think of performers producing over the top dancing and comedy. I think of women wearing outfits that I swear stole from the closets of “Macho Man” Randy Savage and “Nature Boy” Ric Flair.
What I saw could be classified as a different kind of burlesque, for people of the biker and beer drinking crowd. The girls came out in bra and panties, dancing to rock songs and giving lap dances. I was far away from the action, not by choice, but because I wasn’t quick enough to get a seat on the floor.
Had I done so, I would probably would have been given a special dance, hopefully to the tune of The Rolling Stones “Sympathy For the Devil.”
It was not what I was expecting, but customers were still having a good time and that’s what is really important.