I am so bummed out right now. Competitions are so good at bringing out the worst in me. It ruins the fun of being on stage. Even the ones I don't really care about. ("I'm sexy filler") I give the other two events I participate in, my all. Because I care about them, could possibly place, & have before. (I still haven't received my prize package, from July... is this thing on?)
Tonight I gave up a lucrative Friday night shift to go do a fucking goofball set at a club 12 miles across town, riding my broken motorcycle, to go on first, so I can leave to go home, sleep and be at my 'real job' at 6am. Only to have the DJ totally fuck up my music, because he "can't play it off an iPod" (it's 20fucking11!) have zero crowd response, not get a single vote (beads) from any audience member while a 'frienemy' judges, and the photographer forgot that I told him to not take pictures of my vagina. I felt like time had stopped, dancing to some stupid techno remix of one of my songs going on forever, kicking the ceiling while trying to do tricks, and trying to have some 'crowd interaction' with 2 people and their $8. "Is that tattooed on your face?" "No, it's grease paint, obviously..."
Why do I do this to myself?!
So I can play nice in the political end of the PDX dancing bubble.
Oh Lark, you have the best jokes!
Tonight I gave up a lucrative Friday night shift to go do a fucking goofball set at a club 12 miles across town, riding my broken motorcycle, to go on first, so I can leave to go home, sleep and be at my 'real job' at 6am. Only to have the DJ totally fuck up my music, because he "can't play it off an iPod" (it's 20fucking11!) have zero crowd response, not get a single vote (beads) from any audience member while a 'frienemy' judges, and the photographer forgot that I told him to not take pictures of my vagina. I felt like time had stopped, dancing to some stupid techno remix of one of my songs going on forever, kicking the ceiling while trying to do tricks, and trying to have some 'crowd interaction' with 2 people and their $8. "Is that tattooed on your face?" "No, it's grease paint, obviously..."
Why do I do this to myself?!
So I can play nice in the political end of the PDX dancing bubble.
Oh Lark, you have the best jokes!
