I was in a huge rush on Friday night, so frantic was I and hopeful that the night would run smoothly. The cards were stacked against me. My booking agent had called me minutes prior to the dilemma, and I had already been in trouble.
Marc, my agent calls me at 5pm.
“We need you to do a show tonight at Club Opium in South Beach,” he tells me, and my heart skips a few beats, “ I told the host of the party, that you would have no problem giving the guests of honor a burlesque show. Would you mind doing a burlesque show tonight?”
“Oh, sure not a problem,” these words jump out of my mouth before my brain permits them to.
Fuck, what the hell is burlesque?????
After assuring my agent that I had the perfect costume and act, I ran to my faithful laptop and looked up burlesque shows. Funny, flirty, Marilyn Monroe type girls show up. Cute little song and dance. I browse the pics.
Hair and makeup shouldn’t be a problem, but I’ll have to buy a red feather boa to go with my gown, which I already had, I but had no idea it was burlesque.
I grab the dress, and run for the jewelry chest for some long hanging vintage pearl earrings, BUT . . .
The jewelry chest had been broken in to. There were a few miscellaneous earrings and a bracelet or a necklace or two, but everything else was STOLEN!!!!! I had no time to panic, although I feel the fear and the frustration unbidingly run up my spine. No time for worries. I have to come up with an act and a costume plus allow myself the drive to South Beach.
Because there might have been a thief in my house, I grab the few things that could pass off for Burlesque and I dash off, locking the door behind me, as usual. There was nothing to do about my jewels, and had no time for worries. I had a job to do.
I got home from the show at 3am, and it was a success. I was so enthralled that I had forgotten my jewelry thief. I drift off into a Seroquel induced sleep, and then, in the area between blissfull sleep and mid-consiousness, I hear, Ayla, my kitten, mewing and crying. She never does that, but it was nonstop. My concern bolts me out of my drug induced sleepy haze, to see her looking behing the couch, trying to reach something that she couldn’t get to.
What the hell???
I turn on the light, and move the couch adjacent to the bed, where I find my kitten’s hidden stash. The earrings, the bracelets, and necklaces. Pieces of my broken ceramic ashtray, a tampon, assorted cat toys are all under the bed.
My little culprit was caught red-handed. She grabs the hard-to-reach little green furry mouse with the bell on it. I laugh really hard before turning off the light and drifting off into a relaxed all-day-long restful sleep.



