Friday, March 28, 2008

Not Want!

It's 7.30 in the morning. Wait. Let me repeat that. 7.30 IN THE MORNING! And I'm at work, surrounded by dancers and their parents and one woman whom I've heard ask god to bless no less than six people since she walked through the door. (Let's hope God is as all loving and forgiving as she seems to think he is, because if she were asking me for that much it'd be wearing pretty fucking thin by now.) I have a feeling today is not going to be a good day. (To be fair, not many days that start at 6.20 am are good days.)
90% of the people I can see at the moment look like they just dropped out of a stripper competition. There is so much hairspray in the air, if anyone tries to light a cigarette, we're all going up in the biggest fireball since the Hindenburg. And most of these kids can't be older that ten. It's actually kind of sad. (Even more sad are the mothers who look that way. In attendance are at least five graduates of the Tammy Fay School of Aesthetics.)
In all honesty it's not nearly so bad as beauty competitions, but you can see it on so many of the parents faces. "You're living my dream, so don't you dare fuck it up." Like every competition like this though, it's all big smiles and look-how-perfect-we-are people. The kind that if you watch and listen long enough, you'll hear the most horrible things said through a smile. It's something I remember painfully well from when I was their age. As much as I hate to admit it, I used to be one of those kids. (Though I was never really one of them, I never did buy in to the whole "girly thing" and they knew it as well as I did.)
So it should be eight fun filled hours of estrogen, nerves, insanity, pressure, judgement and bad music. If you have any mercy you'll come and put me out of my misery. Or at least come and keep me company.

In less than an hour I've pointed to the clearly marked admissions desk about three hundred times, dealt with one stolen purse, a kitchen crew that doesn't understand that plugging every coffee maker in to one outlet blows the breaker and complains from people who live in the neighbourhood about people parking in front of their houses. Oh yeah, this is great.


Janna said...

So, wait, WHERE's the admission's desk?
Can you point to it for me?

Gwenhwyfar said...

Come a little closer and I'll throw you in the right direction.