may the force be with you...

may the force be with you...
Originally uploaded by backtobax

My attempts at fancy dress have mostly ended in disaster. I'm usually the person who turns up dressed in some ludicrous outfit, when most people's fancy dress costume is nothing more than a hat / fake mustache. Last weeks party was no different. Once again (even after moaning on about fancy dress being 'shit' and 'too much effort' and saying to my boyfriend 'oh I might just go in jeans'...) I decided at about 4pm to dash out of the house and run frantically around charity shops looking for bedsheets and white boots. Then I spent the rest of the afternoon sewing and sticking until I finally made my bargain bin £2.50 Leia costume.

However, as is usually the case I turn up dressed like a right plonka having gone way over the top, when most people at the '80's film character' party have either chosen a fairly respectable / subtle character or not dressed up at all.

I felt a little awkward for the first 20 minutes, especially after a few Star Wars enthusiasts pointed out that Leia actually wore that costume in 1977, and therefore doesn't count, but after a few little wines I was running around going "szzzzaaawww, szzzaaaawww" or however you spell the noise a light saber makes.

So after all my sewing efforts I thought a little photoshop (bad photoshop) wouldn't go amiss, so here we have my lightsaber action.

yay!

sex and politics

This is a bit of a delayed reaction really, as this actually happened last Friday, but what with hangovers and new jobs to deal with I hadn't thought to write this down until now.
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Anyhoo, Friday I had the drunken pleasure of seeing a burlesque nudey lady shaking her bits and eating fire in this bar (rather unsuited for this type of thing) but it was fun none the less, and all rather silly and tongue in cheek. I always thought of burlesque as being the arty, acceptable side of titillation, rather like a live version of 'bizarre' magazine rather than 'hustler', or 'readers wives'.
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I also had the additional pleasure (or so I thought at the time) of giving this nipple-tasseled lady a cigarette outside the bar. 'Brilliant!' I thought. I finally get the chance to talk to a woman like this and find out what makes her tick. A woman who gets her bits out for a living (albeit in an artyfarty genre) therefore she must surely be confident, inspiring, in control of her destiny, a modern feminist even...
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I was wrong. Sadly, our conversation went like this:
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nipple lady: "thanks for the fag"
me: "not a problem, so that was pretty great what you did out there, I couldn't do something like that"
nipple lady: "oh really? yeah. er... I hadn't really thought about it, thanks though"
me: "really? but I mean, how did you get into this sort of thing? Are you a dancer? An artist?"
nipple lady: "erm, well I used to work behind the bar"
me: "oh what here?"
nipple lady: "yeah, and like, they were like, doin this night and stuff"
me: "what the burlesque...?"
nipple lady: "yeah, and so I thought, ah well they're gonna pay me more, and so, well I got nice tits ain't I, so I just thought yeah"
me: "oh"
nipple lady: "can I borrow your light? mine's gone out"
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I think the fact I refer to her as 'nipple lady' sums it up really. And the moral? (not that there should be one) - some things are for viewing pleasure only, the rest is better left to the imagination.