Standing backstage at the music hall during tonight's dress rehearsal, one of the dancers struck up a conversation:

"Are you one of the guards?"
"Oh, I only aspire to be."
"You could be me; I'll give you the costume -- it's easy man."
"I think the audience would demand their money back."
"Oh no, half the time they don't even know you're there -- their focus is on the dragon."
"I'll keep that in mind -- I'll watch and maybe I can take your place next year."

chortle chuckle guffaw

I hate reading others' blogs where they squeal about a cute guy that maybe looked at them, so all I'll say is that this guy intimidated me. Maybe I'm so used to dealing with bar trash I don't know how to handle something different.

Participating in the Nutcracker Suite is definitely not for those insecure about their masculinity: My costume is a subtle shade of crimson neon with white piping, pink shoes with cottonballs, and a hat with a cotton-candy feather. We guards carry giant candy canes and strike poses during the middle part of the ballet. Yes I know: very somber and butch.

I volunteered to be an extra here to do something fun -- and to hopefully meet some eligible bachelors! My own stereotypes about the ballet have been dashed: Everyone flashes wedding rings, wifeys and kiddies. The dancer who taught our moves cracked off-color jokes about the female dancers, including the one who is his wife.

What do I have to do to get a date around here: Get arrested?