That's where I was last night.
As far as I'm aware, this was in no way affiliated with the ACTUAL Pussycat Dolls. Although given it involved dancing like strippers and wearing very little clothing while doing so, I guess it had SOME similiarities.
I should clarify at this point, I wasn't actually taking part in such an event. I was merely observing. My friend C (who I noticed when I linked to the page has actually left a couple of comments on there) thought it might be fun and I had to agree. It did sound like a good laugh.
I've never seen so much orange skin and bad hair extensions in one place. And, trust me, in Glasgow there's generally a fair amount of both.
There were six girls competing for the title, and the prize of a years glamour modelling contract. Not entirely sure why this was really related to how well you could dance but I guess it was meant to be entertaining. The thing is, we ran into an old friend of C's who lived near to us in our old flat and he was there to cheer on two girls from his college. Drama students. Let's face it, they were ringers for sure. The thing I've always found with drama students is they are all-rounders. They tend to be able to act, more often than not they can sing . . . and they've pretty much always had some sort of dance training at SOME point.
In the first round it wasn't immediately obvious though. The girls all came out and were introduced by the compere, who was a dj from our local radio station Clyde 1. It was quite hard to even understand what most of the girls were saying. A little foreign dude jumping up and down trying to see next to me turned to me at one point after one girl was asked her most embarrassing moment and asked "What did she just say?" I leaned down (for he really WAS that small - mind you, I was also wearing heels for a change!) and enunciated "She sent a rude text meant for her boyfriend to her dad." (Haven't we all???*)
Then after being introduced they had to do their best catwalk style walk up and down the floor. That was fun to watch. (Seriously, it was a bit of a giggle).
But then came time for the dancing. Each girl had to do two minute-long routines that they had choreographed themselves. Immediately it became obvious that most of them had apparently cast themselves as strippers with their skimpy outfits and props. The first four were straddling chairs, gyrating against the wall . . . one even had a cane! (I should add the disclaimer that none of them were bad dancers though - they did have the sort of moves that others would envy on the dance floor, just perhaps not in an ACTUAL dance contest!) Then the drama students showed them up with actual PROPER dance routines that looked like they'd actually spent some time choreographing . . . and, most importantly of all, they were REALLY REALLY GOOD.
The second round seemed to involve dance tunes and this time the girls seemed to have uniformly decided to writhe about on the floor while wearing even less clothes. With the exception of the drama students who once again wowed us. The last girl in particular was incredible, her routine even involved what appeared to be breakdancing moves. Me and C had been cheering them on anyway since they were the only ones remotely linked to us, but this girl 100% deserved the cheers.
She won. Unsurprisingly. The weird thing was though she had to have been one of the most unlikely looking people to win a glamour modelling contract. She was a really pretty girl but in more of a tiny, doll-like way than anything else, and her outfits had been more practical for dancing than sexy. Go figure.
All in all though, it was a great night.
And as for the evil bar stool mentioned in the title? Yes, it made me fall off it. It was absolutely NOTHING to do with the fact I'd already had several glasses of wine, oh no! It was fully the bar stool's fault. I promise. And it wasn't embarrassing AT ALL . . . **
*Actually I haven't. Have you?
**And I DIDN'T bruise my bum. Honest.