Emily’s Dancer Diary - January 11, 2006
Page not found
My male friends like to pretend we have pillow fights back in our locker room in between timeouts. I hate to burst some bubbles out there, but here is a more accurate description of what goes on behind closed doors in the Celtics Dancers locker room...
Sure, there's a lot of checking ourselves out in the mirrors and unintentionally making mild Zoolander faces while flipping our hair to the other side of our face to see which side makes our cheek bones stand out more, but mainly, we're just plain goofy.
A hot pink iPod is constantly blaring. We have dance parties. We have heated debates on Fleetwood Mac. (Who knew someone could feel strongly against them? It's not like we're talking about Bones, Thugs, and Harmony.) Snoop Dog turns me into a different person and makes my booty-pop almost looks legitimate.
Alison provides us with Pixie Sticks and we take "hits" of sugar as we dance to No Diggity before we exit the locker room for the national anthem each game. A reverent bunch, we Celtics Dancers.
Alexis takes about five minutes to get ready and hates waiting around, so she does crossword puzzles and Sodoku from The Metro, or reads her international policy textbooks. I have nothing funny to say about that; she's just plain impressive.
When I see a USC shirt in Jen's or Haley's suitcase, I hide it and refuse to give it back until they vow to send their future offspring to UCLA. Let's just say that I still have a few USC clothing items in my closest that I really don't want. I'll be having a garage sale soon.
I get a bit claustrophobic being in tiny dressing rooms with 20 other girls, so I take walks around the back tunnels of the Garden. No, Mother, I don't bring my pepper spray but there are security guards everywhere.
Once in a while, when we have longer breaks, we try to use our time productively and do sit-ups and push-ups. Okay, who am I kidding? We did this once and it was a good two months ago.
Despite being the three oldest girls on the team, Danielle, Athenia and I derive endless amusement from trying to play jokes on Marina, but it really only amuses us and we probably deserved to be benched soon for our kindergarten antics. For example, (and I'm well aware that this will probably be a "you had to be there" anecdote) we put on three-inch-long, purple rhinestoned false eyelashes and had them on for a good hour before the game started. We kept striking up conversation with Marina in hopes of her saying something, but alas, the game was about to start and we had to take them off before she ever acknowledged our immaturity. We still found ourselves hilarious, though, which really is all that matters.
Right before we go on, there is a lot of this: "Which way to we face? Who's doing the Foxwoods promotion? Who's holding the banner half-court and who's under the basket? When should I leave for the Seat Upgrade? Should I bring my jazz shoes with me in case I don't have time to change out of my boots before the next dance? Are we looking to the front when we leap during Sexy Back? Do I have enough lipstick on? Are the arms up or down when we kick? Is my hair falling OK? Do we jump out of the double turn on count 6? Is the hip shake on 4 or 5?" Very glamorous stuff.
Yes, I've probably crushed a few teenage boys' hopes and dreams with this entry, but hey, shove 21 girls in a locker room, give them an unlimited supply of mirrors, hair products, make-up and show tunes, and you're asking for trouble.