Monday, October 12, 2009

Dance Dance Stagnation


(not gay at all)

My first step show experience was. . . interesting. I've actually seen an exhibition or two, so I thought I knew what to expect. Not so. The teams were all representatives of campus Greek houses.
First of all, in attendance were so many fashions and hairstyles I didn't know what to do with myself. A question I wonder now is how many pounds of fake hair were in the auditorium? Probably as many as my weight. Needless to say I was thrilled. I knew I was in for a treat before the show even started. I was seated next to the aisle across from the kids doing the AV. Right before it started, I noticed a girl in a really cute dress talking to them, bent over at the waist. The hem of her dress was crazy and asymmetrical, and I totally got a face full of ass. At some point, she wised up and put a hand on her bottom as if to make the pose acceptable. She then got on the stage to introduce the MCs. There wasn't even any lighting, and she started talking into the mic, and no one could even hear her. "Somebody need to put a spotlight on that ho," I heard from behind me. That's exactly what I was thinking.

The first performance was by the Christian frat. I wasn't aware those existed. I asked my friend if they were stepping for Jesus, but really I was wondering if they were date-raping for Jesus. They came on stage and went into poses, waiting for the music to start. At least one of them was standing with his arms out and head hanging as if on the cross. NICE. The music blasted, and one member mimed whipping the other three to the beat as they writhed in pain. It was the hotness. They did some traditional stepping, but I have to say there was much more hip-hop dancing than stepping across all performances. Which was cool with me, I greatly enjoy both.
Mixed in among the frat teams were larger dance crews that did fantastic numbers. My favorite was definitely the team that was dressed as robots and imitated all sorts of sex acts. Sexy robots fucking? I'm there. They all had silver body paint on their faces, but it wasn't heavy enough, so instead of looking like cool Tin Men, they were more like Copper Men. One robot dude was so fwiiiine, I found myself just watching him the whole time. He's dancing, popping and locking, and -oh shit!- a lady robot ripped his shirt off! What a treat.

What determines who I watch the longest at any performance is definitely attractiveness. Is that wrong? I don't know shit about dance, and if you dance better than a stereotypical whitey, it's all Greek to me, so I have to have some sort of criteria.







I recently went to another performance of the ultra modern (I think? At least it was to me) Merce Cunningham Dance Company, and I held to this rule of thumb. Shit was bananas. The soundtrack wasn't so much music as it was noise, but I loved it. The dancing was. . . dancing. And awkward posing. It was way too long for me, but I guess I enjoyed it. I kept trying to figure out if there was some story I was missing out on, but clearly it was over my head. Everyone was in a camouflage sort of leotard with different patterns of black and white stripes on the front and back. It made no sense to me. I flipped through the program before the show and decided I needed to keep an eye on this Silas Riener fellow. Wow. Those leotards might as well have been painted on, and I was very pleased. My eyes were ass-level almost the entire time. Anyway, Mr. Riener delivered impressively and worked up a healthy sweat while doing so. That's kind of what I liked most about his performance over the other men. . . a generous sheen of perspiration. It really gave him an edge.