She super bad now
She's here to really blow your mind
Dancing, dancing, dancing
She's a dancing machine
Now for a holiday story...A story about holiday parties to be exact. A story about my company's holiday party.
Every year my benevolent and somewhat faceless employers throw us a holiday party that never fails to be extravagant and somewhat weird. I'm not sure who plans these things they have an penchant for employing drag queens, midgets, Mexican wrestlers, and perfomers in skin-tight, flesh-colored unitards. Usually not at the same party and never the same person.
This year we had a couple of cirque de soleil types (in flesh-colored unitards) hanging from strange drapery up in the rafters. We also had some sort of casino thing goin on. The money was fake which was good because the dealers (despite being very friendly) had trouble counting to 21 at times.
The theme of this years Gala was "Fire and Ice". This elemental motif was brought to life via a group of performers
called "Fear No Ice". A group of people who bill themselves as the first ice sculpture performance group. Sometimes new ideas come to the surface and find a person surprised...Blown away that such a sublime and important thing lay dormant in the collective subconscious for so long. People see or hear about these ideas and say things like, "How is it that _I_ never thought about that!"
"Fear no Ice" is not one of those ideas. The reason why these guys are the first performance ice scupltures is because this is a silly idea.
The group consists of two men stomping around stage with chainsaws while a 2 minute piece of music is set on a 15 minute loop. The men are dressed in a furry white thing with lights on their heads. It's as if someone from the Blueman Group and Sam Fischer
from Splinter Cell copulated and these artists are the result.
The performers run around and stare menacingly at big blocks of ice, than twirl away as oddly timed pyrotechnics belch out sparks and flame in such away that seems to surprise even the people on stage.
It was all very...Strange. As one sits there watching this spectacle she is bound to feel compelled to appreciate what's happening. It's apparent that someone put a lot of time and passion into this thing...But it sorta falls short of being as fantastic as it clearly wants to be.
The party did come with all it's usual good stuff. Plenty of great food, plenty of fun people, and plenty of free booze which always leads to the obligatory gossip item.
This year it was probably the woman who stood up on a table and started to get freaky-naughty in front of everyone. It was a PG performance, but what was striking about it was that the last time I spoke to this woman she was complaining about the amount of inappropriate sexual material she has to endure in her office. I couldn't stop thinking of this as I watched her twirl her clothes high in the air above her while doing a fantastic pantomime of something you might see on the discovery channel...Or the spice network depending on your cable package.
One of the areas where the party-planner fell a lil short was in the heating. It was colder than some sort of cliche in there. The good thing about this was that it promoted more dancing than usual since it was one of the few ways (aside from coffee) that could keep from ending up like Jack Torrance at the end of the shining
In their infinite wisdom the party planners also decided to hire a group of "instigators" dressed in tight black pants and some sort of shiny, red, sequined shoulder pads. These young women (and one spastic man) were responsible for making dancing, getting other people to dance, and dance with people who were already dancing. They were all attractive and extremely enthusiastic.
At one point, while myself and a few others were out shakin it, two of these hired guns shimmied into our circle and began to raise the roof with us. This ended up being really strange. One part of your brain notices that these hot girls are smiling and dancing at you and says, "Damn G! Look at you all studly and shit". The other part of your brain is saying, "these women are being PAID to pretend to have fun with you sucka!"
It got weirder when I noticed that one of the dancers kept looking at me and sort of...Ghosting me. In other words, I would dance a certain way and her eyes would light up and she'd nod her head and start moving the same way. Her expression seemed to say, "OH you like THAT sorta move eh?! Yea I can dig your groove! WATCH ME!"
After a few songs the DJ started mixing in some older songs like Ton Loc's "funky Cold Medina". The hired guns stopped singing along and sorta seemed like they were pretending even harder than before to have fun.
"You've never heard this song before have you" I said to the one who WASN'T mimicking my every move.
"No...I don't think so" she said.
"How OLD are you?!" I asked.
"I'm 19!" she said brightly.
We left shortly after. I dunno what the others were thinking but I was feeling something close to shame. :)