Scratching my own funny bone for shits and giggles. Lampooning books, music and being a single woman over 40. Recording observations with an almost Seinfeldian obsession for the minutiae of life. Things can get sweary around here. You understand.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

DANCING THEIR ASSES OFF

To try and snap me out of my funk, Mum suggested I might like to accompany her down to Easts Leagues Club for her birthday last night. This wasn’t the first time I’d stepped foot into this establishment so I had a fair idea of what to expect. It kind of has this air of desperation about it...sad old timers marking time, catatonic pokie patrons and thrice divorced balding middle aged men with plenty of money and no dress sense...but she enjoys herself down there so who I was I to deprive her? They have cheap, decent home cooked style food, rock and roll dancing and big cash prizes; plus I enjoy her company so it wasn’t too much of a stretch. So rather than sit there and sulk about ‘where have all the good men gone?’ I decided to don the latex cat-suit, pop on the night-vision goggles and indulge in some long overdue reconnaissance. What else is a Russian Spy to do when her dancing technique resembles something like Elaine from Seinfeld on crack?

My first impressions were centred on the dress-sense and age of the female patrons. Without a word of exaggeration, some of these women were hitting 70 and still trying to squeeze themselves into tight tops with spaghetti straps (despite having arms that looked like a string bag full of camembert) and clingy dresses in leopard print with plunging necklines and it wasn’t pretty. This is definitely something I’ve never seen in such concentration before: middle-aged to elderly women still out on the pull. Not content to sit at home with tea and toast and Eddie Maguire for company, these old ladies were out there shakin’ their booty (and other fleshy bits) and refusing to lie down quietly. Various tensions amongst the regular patrons were centred on bitching about who was dancing with whom and one-upping each other in the war to snag the best man. Whilst a part of me was thinking ‘yeah go sister!’ another part felt sympathy for all the grandchildren out there sitting at home with surly teenaged babysitters instead of their grans. Some of these kids will never know what it’s like to get a big sloppy whiskery kiss or have their nostrils fill with the scent of lavender talc or sink their faces into a large pair of pillowy bosoms on a cold night. Then my thoughts turned to economic disaster: were the makers of floral bath cubes, lace hankies and shortbread feeling the pinch? Well at least manufacturers of polyester halter tops in garish prints and hairdressers specialising in platinum hair-dos will never go out of business. Though I might suggest that the people whose job it is to market support underwear to the middle-aged are simply not trying hard enough. Then again, maybe I should just pull my head in and hope for the best in my advancing years. One thing is for certain: I don’t want to be desperately fighting for the scraps at age 70 whilst discussing the details of my illnesses with all and sundry. I think I’d rather die in a state of blissful apathy; eating shortbread and smelling of talc whilst a grandchild snuggles into one large pillowy bosom. How do you see yourself as an old person?

21 comments:

curious-idoru said...

it's oz, Nat, we never sent the good men over! :P
Wait til ut's your gens turn for these old parties - will they be full of elderly punks & goths? or pill poppin' ravers. tho odds are they will be pill poppin' just not the fun kind.

Dr Yobbo said...

Sounds like hell. I hope I die before I get old.

Bangar said...

Nat you hit the nail on the head ... it's Eddie driving them from their homes, we need some quality TV entertainment to keep them home.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

BANG: Yup. Foxtel should be included in the pension package.

YOB: Saw a few Roger Daltry wanna-bes down there last night. But the pants didn't fit like they used to.

ID: Some of the old folk down there didn't need the white face and black robes. Some of them looked practically dead already.

Big Bad Al said...

Was there any under the table dealing in viagra?

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

Abso-fuckin-lutely AL! Old men don't die...they just get hornier.

Mayhem said...

Ouch.... sounds like me at 43. Not much hope for me then! Lol!

yankeedog said...

I went to a few singles dances back in the day. It wasn't a terrible experience, but there was no one I was looking for.

I've also been to elderly people's social functions. In some ways they're not so bad-but I'm kind of a sedate person. A lot of those people had interesting lives and have some great tales to tell. But, yeah, there is a lot of what you described as well.

As for being old-well, right now we're dealing with a 94-year-old that we had to put in a memory care facility. Dementia. What a crap thing to see a once-vital person degenerate! Existence without life.

I'd hope someday we do something like in 'Soylent Green'-a room with your favorite music and images, and a shot afterwards. If they want to make little green crackers or canned meat out of me afterwards, hey, whatever.

Sorry to bring the place down. You did ask, though.

Anonymous said...

I'll be the one enjoying Gen Y wiping his backside. I plan to move into an aged person's home at age 50 so I can spend even more time with baby boomers before they croak. But I will take on the role of entertainment director, which sees me don an outfit like Julian Clary's from Sticky Moments and deliver a silky smooth comedy routine between dinner and cards each Sunday night in the common room.

The best bit is that a big chunk won't remember the jokes from the week before.

Abe

Steve said...

I hope to see myself a lot like my grandfather. Mostly because he lived to be 93 and had a fairly good quality of life, albeit moving very slowly. And he was an awesome storyteller, which is what I hope to be able to be at that age.

And is it safe to say that the booty shaking stopped long after the actual dancing stopped on some of those ladies?

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

ABE: Laughed myself stupid! The image of you dressed as the evil Julian Clary will always be with me! You so should do that. For real!

STEVE: You bet your wobbly ass it did! (Ahem...not yours specifically you understand) Yeah I can't wait to do the whole 'back in my day' gig with the little ones. I aim to be EVIL.

YANKEE: Yes I did ask and it was a serious question despite my attempts at bitchery and humour. It would be soul destroying to see an elderly loved one lose their basic functions. I can't say that I would be able to do that with much poise and grace. As usual love your ideas. The Soylent Green scenario doesn't sound too bad at all!

MAYHEM: You still have plenty of time before you're in that league!

Paul Nicholas Boylan said...

Well. That was fairly depressing...

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

I already thought you were manic :D

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

Stay tuned folks...coming up...STREAKING VERSUS FLASHING. THE FACTOIDS.

Bondiboy66 said...

So, you gonna be doing the demonstration videos for Streaking and Flashing? Fnarr!

I aim to grow up to be a bitter, twisted and cranky old pain in the arse. Rather like I am now at 43, but with more wrinkles, nose and ear hair and less head hair. Perhaps livened up by drinking more and more naturism - perhaps at the same time.

chazfh said...

I'm happy where I am now thank you, so do not intend to age anymore.

Hmm maybe I'll take up tango.

Flinthart said...

I've seen a few versions of old that I can tolerate. My major role models here are writers like Ray Bradbury, still rockin' on at 89; martial artists like Jan de Jong, who had a triple bypass on tour in his late seventies, and was back on the mats, teaching, within four days - and my own father, who looks as though he hangs out with Dorian Gray's personal portrait artist.

Seriously? I've never seen an elderly martial artist who hasn't aged very well indeed. So I plan to keep up the practise. I mean -- the value of a sharp smack in the teeth never really seems to go down, does it? So I might as well ensure I've got one handy when I need to offer it...

PS: 'camembert in a string bag' -- still recoiling at that. Very sharp!

Havock21 said...

jesus..I ain't doing that..DOWN IN A FKN BLAZE OF GLORY, Kicking the living snot outta some Gen Y git, taking his slightly younger than me wench and DIEING whilst .....ON TOP..well..maybe on bottom..BUT STILL FKN AT IT and Dieing

Therbs said...

Hey Nat, at my Easts Leagues you'd be croaking in front of a pokie. I had enough of a look at the end game when my dad spen his last couple of years in a dementia nursing home. But, as Abe pointed out, at least I didn't have to come up with new jokes each week.

Natalia the Russian Spy said...

BONDI: Lost my steam for the streaking/flashing debate! Naturism is one of the 'isms' that I wholeheartedly support. Feeling the wind on your wet skin down at the beach with no fear of Uncle Pervy bothering with your wrinkly old sack is my idea of heaven.

CHAZ: The tango is great for your glutes. Nothing like an old man with a perky rear.

FLINT: You've posted photos of your Dad before and yes he is a fiesty looking spunk.

HAVOCK: Ha! With a fag in one hand I presume?

THERBS: Yeah my Mum cooks for a respite centre and she has to fake laughing at the same jokes week in week out.

yankeedog said...

"I aim to grow up to be a bitter, twisted and cranky old pain in the arse. Rather like I am now at 43, but with more wrinkles, nose and ear hair and less head hair."

You and me both, Bondiboy!

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