Two Words

Xylophone. Solo.

N, the Violent Femmes got nothing on you.

WOOOOOOOO!

It's snowing in Paris! Everything is covered in white fluffy goodness! I'm so happy! Et en plus, tonight is the circus Christmas party!

It's snowing on Circus Christmas!

How wonderful is that? Pictures will follow, but I've got to get ready for the show!

It Was Bound to Happen...

I, for one, am surprised it didn't happen sooner, but with one week to go, its official: the circus has swine flu.

And now, because I can, some Swine Flu related cartoons.



Poor Piglet... poor, poor Piglet...

Wait... What?

A rather curious article was sent to the troupe this morning. Well, not so much an article as a blog entry from some random corner of the internet. While the author has positive things to say about the show, that's not at all what she's interested in. Moreover, while I think what she has to say is meant to be quite positive, I'm personally not too sure how to take it.

Here's an excerpt (translated by yours truly):

"And so, looking at this heterogeneous troupe, we see different costumes ranging from total nudity to more or less becoming attire, I had the reflection that almost none of them had a body like we see in magazines or television: they were short, quite tall, some had a small pot belly, others had slightly saggy bottoms, were flat chested, and yet they showed what they could do with these non-ideal bodies without hesitation."

I can think of more than one person in the troupe that may develop a slight image complex from this article. I know that the author, a nutritional psychologist, is trying to point out that even professional circus artists and musicians don't have what is considered the perfect body, and yet look at the beautiful and poetic things they can do! The body is an instrument to create a story, not an end in itself...

That's all well and good, but she's not the one that has to parade her imperfect body on stage. I don't think I ever mentioned it before, but I was initially quite uncomfortable in my wheel costume. I was excited that it was red and a little bit sexy, but I when I was being fitted, it was often in the tent, with everyone else around. The cat calls and remarks about the top left me feeling rather uncomfortable, and seeing as I don't even wear shorts in real life, wearing tiny shorts on stage wasn't a very enjoyable prospect.

But I got used to my costume and all was well. Now I'll be worrying about my ginormous shoulders, pasty legs, and muscular thighs... Thanks nutritional psychologist lady! Way to show some sensitivity!

Sigh...

Wardrobe Malfunction II

Just when I thought it was safe to go back on stage...

You know what's better than having your bra strap break, or having the front of your costume torn? Having the zipper on your itty bitty booty shorts break, exposing what your mama gave you to the world.

Fortunately, this happened after my number. I did have to go on stage in that costume again, but I'm mostly hidden by a very large canvas at that particular moment, so I like to think no one saw. Other than all the people sitting stage right, I mean...

I should have been expecting it. After all, il n'y a jamais deux sans trois!

Wardrobe Malfunction

While the term 'wardrobe malfunction' may give to visions of breasticles swaying in the breeze, I'm afraid my mishap wasn't nearly as exciting.

The show started out innocently enough. Then, mid-way through my number I noticed that one of the strings from the fabric we use as canvas in the show was stuck to my shoulder (the damn things get everywhere). Only it wasn't a string. It was my bra strap. It had either broke or come undone. I tried to ignore it but as the number progressed it continued its escape from underneath my costume.

Seeing as I didn't really have the freedom to stop and fix it, I decided to just ignore it and keep going. And so, while my bra strap was smacking me upside the head, my cast mates were having a right good laugh in the wings.

Humph.

You'd think that would have been enough for one show. But the wonderful world of live performance had a little more fun in store. In fact, I had just let down my guard. We had just finished the group trampoline number, the official end of the show, and were getting into place for the encore. I went to jump up onto the upper platform of the structure, just like I've done for over 50 shows, and my costume gets caught, the front rips off exposing considerable more of my cleavage than usual, and I get yanked down like a pup on a leash.

My cast mate's reaction to the event: "Aw... I didn't even get to see any tit!"

At least I can say that the eighth to last show really knocked some socks off! Or something...

Not Until the Fat Lady Sings!

So I've been sitting on this bit of info for quite some time. Mostly because there was a period of uncertainty as to whether or not it would happen. And seeing as it's one hell of an event, I didn't want to jinx it. With the event in question only a week away, I think its safe to spill the beans.

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll just let the let a couple of pictures do the talking...


I know, eh? The above would be Paris' National Opera at the Palais Garnier. Myself and two of my colleagues here at the circus will be doing the lead in to a performance by Guillaume Aldebert. He's the main attraction in a Christmas show being put on for the children of the French political elite. The show is the afternoon before our second to last performance in Paris. Should be interesting to see how things turn out...

Ah, quel vie de cirque!