I am flaxen-haired. Well… at least I used to be (<-click). I spent years, and a shitload of moolah, making sure it remained some version of blonde. Blonde, blonder, BLONDEST; a condition that all dyed in the wool, flaxen-haired, card-carrying ‘almost blondies’ are afflicted with. Furthermore, when my boobs kicked in at seventeen and remained obvious throughout […]
I’M A BLONDE – and other complications Read More »
A shiny surface attracts my attention. Now that I am face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball, mano a mano … do I like what I see? Is it a convincing look-alike reflected back? Does it bear a resemblance? Are we two peas in a pod? Or am I being duped? Stop mocking me. I have issues. I have meditated,
Look at me. HERE I AM. Gaze at me. Have a good look. Give me the once-over. SEE ME. Consider me. Relate to me. OO-OO-PICK MEEEE. My professional calling card back in the day. A very CLOSE-UP likeness of my kisser. No pocket-sized, wallet-sized innocent snapshots are these, but rather zoomed in magnifications of
READY FOR MY CLOSE-UP Read More »
My daughters were baffled when they got wind of the fact that I was not even an every-now-and-then doobie partaker. Bewildered that I never snorted anything. Flabbergasted that my high school years were not loaded with alcohol-infused partying. And I think a bit disappointed. They are still not convinced! According to them…“Are you kidding me?!
Rehearsal had come to an end (we thought) – the exertion evident in our sweaty productive fatigue – when we were asked to be seated for some group dynamics theatre “games”. One by one we went round the circle, told to describe each other’s character traits by way of a chosen flower. Naturally I have
A SUNFLOWER BY ANY OTHER NAME Read More »
Aaaaand… quadruple turn into an aerial then prep to whip thirty-two fouette turns into a side-straddle leap step kick your face slide into the splits then stand on your head and spin. 5-6-7-8 GO! Holy flexibility. I’m dizzy. Ouch. while back in my day Were you a dancer who could sing-ish, a singer who could dance-ish,
CAUGHT DANCING WITH A VACUUM (AND I’D DO IT AGAIN) Read More »
Back in 1972, when I was a college freshman minoring in dance, my aha moment revealed itself when my need to wear a leotard all-day-every-day was nixed by my Quantitative Reasoning, Natural Sciences and Spanish professors. That being the case, I had no choice but to take another course of action by transferring to a
AND AN EPIC TAIL (FYI, it’s loooong…) The Cabaret Room, in the Playboy Club, was teeming with patrons; smoldering cigarettes glowing, a cacophony of ice clinking and an ambience embodying the dimmed esthetic of a classic noir setting. With the Bunnies performing their iconic ‘Bunny Dip’ – the White Russians, Harvey Wallbangers and Tom Collins
IT’S KIND OF A BUNNY STORY Read More »
I’ve had my share of boo-boos, bloopers and faux pas. However, it should be mentioned that I am, in most cases, coordinated. For crying out loud, I am a dancer … unlike my sweet mom who tried her hand feet at ballet with some rather unfortunate results. Less Baryshnikov – more Lucille Ball. My flair
OOPS I DID IT AGAIN Read More »
Singing into hair brushes and bopping like nobody’s watching… you all did that …didn’t you? Well I was certainly no exception. Oh how I flourished in my bedroom…. my rehearsal studio. My dressing room. My costume department. My stage. My performing arts haven. In that room it was unrestrained, full-on SHOWBIZ-NESS. I was Ann-Margret in
GETTING DOWN TO BIZ-NESS Read More »
