Jack goes to the ballet!

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Oct 042012
 

Ok so this story starts with my GF telling me she has a spare ticket to see Sleeping Beauty the ballet. At the time I was fully entrenched in a multiplayer session of Black Ops and two kills of a Huey minigun run. I looked up from the screen, gave her my most charming smile and said “Sure honey I’d love to do that.” The truth – I had no idea WTF she had just said. I was completely consumed by my hatred of wheelspinner44 who’d just ended my kill streak – mother f#cker.

Ballet? Sure babe sounds awesome! Said no man ever.

So two months later I’m dressed in a shirt and jacket and perched in something called the ‘stalls’. I looked around and noticed the joint was filled with old couples and chicks; it was then I realised I’d been sucker punched. The ballet started and at first I was pleasantly surprised. The stage was filled with women sporting legs that’d turn Liberachi straight. I was enthralled; they had power, poise, skill and most importantly, they were smoking hot. I must have had a grin on my face like the Joker because when I turned to face my girl she was giving me that one raised eyebrow look that immediately lets me know my reaction is taking me down a road of pain. “Such skill,” I mumbled as I adjusted my facial expression. Needless to say my joy was about to be thwarted!

Enter the Prince, AKA Mr Skintight. I’ve previously voiced my opinion regarding men who wear tights to train, no one wants to see your junk jiggling around, douche bags. Ballet is where the frog in a sock originated, it is the home of tight wearing junk jiggling. Don’t get me wrong the Prince was an impressive athlete. He bounced around like a Kangaroo on LSD. However, his jiggling junk significantly detracted from the performance, or so I thought. I looked across at my girlfriend and guess who was now wearing a grin like a Cheshire cat?

Ten minutes in I lean across to my girl and ask, “So when do they start talking?” She gives me one of those looks, the kind reserved for my extra special moments, “Darling, it’s a ballet there is no dialogue!” WTF? I’m at a complete loss for words, just like the production it would seem. Watching a performance without dialogue is like watching a Predator feed in Afghanistan, boring as shit! So just like in the Ghan I started to let my imagination run wild. Before I knew it the Prince had taken on the honey badger voice, particularly relevant when he was battling the witch who for some reason in my head sounded just like Oprah. Every character developed it’s own voice, the entire cohort of the Princess’s suiters became the Expendables as they pranced their way around the stage like a gaggle of homosexual conquistadors. Without gunfire, explosions and hand to hand combat, the fight sequence between the Witch’s minions and the Prince was lamer than Samsung’s defence in the Apple copyright case.

So for one night I was exposed to some classical culture, but most importantly I took away some important lessons:

1. Never agree to anything when playing Black Ops, MW3, Battlefield 3 or any other multiplayer game.

2. Ballet has no dialogue and should be watched slightly inebriated.

3. No matter how physically impressive you are, tights make you look like a douche.

JS