Last night I got my no-handed chopper and dumped by text message!

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater

***UPDATE: very short clip of my no-hands chopper is now here!***

I’m happier about the no-handed chopper, obviously. Pics when I have my camera on me at the studio next time!!

Until then, just imagine it as an uglier version of this (because I’m still learning, duh!), and with a hand supporting the grip leg, just as with Jade splits (which I CAN FEEL are coming, woot woot). Also, shout out to Cathe over at Our Pole Tricks for doing a no-handed chopper like a boss, just saying.

Technique note: ***the secret*** to the NHC is shifting the weight into your arm pit as you set the leg. Not as hard as it looks, since amazingly, I got it on my first attempt. Next step: trying it on the non-dominant leg.

We also worked on this pose that I’m pretty sure Antoine made up himself, because he’s creative like that (YES I BLOGGED ABOUT YOU ANTOINE, be less fabulous next time and you’ll be safe!) but so far, no dice on hitting it. It’s really friggin’ hard. Oh well, next time!

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Oh, so is it just me, or is it extra gross to get dumped by somebody you are not officially dating? Like, you were hanging out for a couple of weeks, and you text them to meet up because had a good day and you’re feelin’ extra sassy, and then they text back that they are “too busy to give you what you need.”

Um. Chicka what?

I just… okay?

Someone please tell me this has also happened to them, because I’m bewildered. I can’t decide if it’s nice and respectful, or a huge diss (like, I know I don’t owe you a break up because we’re not going out, but I just wanted to go out of my way to make it CRYSTAL CLEAR that I don’t like you).

My ego… it… stings.

In other news, sorry the posts have been so few and far between, but things should pick up soon as my NEWLY FIXED COMPUTER should be arriving any day now!!! Thanks, Dad!!! I can’t wait until I can watch movies and write blogs in my spare time again, because lately, I’ve been listening to the radio (seriously) and reading when I get home like it’s the year 1942. Which has been pleasantly chill, but, I’m over it at this point.

<3<3<3 and happy twirls!

Cathy

I heard the new Drake album and NOTHING WAS THE SAME

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater

If you haven’t heard it yet, here are my favorite Pole-tastic tracks. Enjoy!

1. Come Thru

Simply put, I FALL DOWN DEAD FOR THIS SONG.

2. From Time

Great, mellow vocals on this.

3. Hold On, We’re Going Home

I actually first heard this track watching Dirdy Birdy… that’s how you know it’s good.

Re: this video though… my opinion is that Drake set in 1985 for exactly one reason: so a waiter could bring a phone to his table in a dramatic fashion.

4. Pound Cake / Paris Morton Music 2 ft. Jay-Z 

I don’t understand this title, but song is hot.

5. Too Much ft. Sampha 

Bonus:

Janelle Monae and Miguel=hot fire.

Okay, so I’m a big, fat hypocrite.

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater
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Scene from our run-through on Sunday (I’m on the right, kneeling). I was an hour late to the 10am-6pm practice because I tried to go to a birthday party AND have drinks with a date the night before–after 8 hours of rehearsing on Saturday, of course.

ALRIGHT FINE. So I picked on 300 sandwiches girl before realizing, yeah, I’m kind of an overachieving people-pleaser like that too.

It’s kind of like being a really desperate actress who gets dismissed from an audition and just won’t accept it. “You want sexier? I can do sexier!!! You need a German accent? I CAN DO THAT. Someone who makes expertly crafted sandwiches? Hang on, let me go to the library and get a book on that, BRB.”

Lately I’ve been racing back and forth between my day job, Bellyqueen rehearsals, coffee with a guy I like (and am trying to impress while sweaty and exhausted and adjusting my outfit on the way back to work–yes, we have to get our coffee to go because I was supposed to be back at the office 10 minutes ago, ahhh), day job again, dance classes, Fireblossoms rehearsal, night job, night course, work study, pole classes, more dates with boys I am trying to impress while scattered and exhausted… and y’all, I am THISCLOSE to failing at all of it, at any given time.

I can feel it–that little wobble on the tightrope. The expression on somebody’s face when I have to apologize yet again for having to leave early or arrive a little late. The schizophrenic list of shit I have to do the next day that flashes through my head just before I fall asleep, like that creepy scene in a Clockwork Orange, and I get so overwhelmed that I start thinking about calling in sick to everything because it’s too, too much. The Failure is lurking, waiting for me to slip up.

Luckily, it’s almost over; the Bellyqueen show is Friday and Saturday. But it’s really made me question why I do this to myself. I overbook, over-commit, overload, all the time. Why? WHYYYYYY.

Why do I put all this pressure on myself to have a date after a 14 hour day, and look perfect and act charming when I’m exhausted?

Why does it feel wrong to have 3 hours to myself at home, alone? Like I should be anywhere, doing anything else?

Why do I have to throw achievement in my bucket at all times to feel like a full person?

The voice in the back of my head is always saying, “Do more, work harder, be better,” and if I’m honest with myself, if I had a boyfriend who really liked sandwiches, I would probably be doing that on top of everything too.

Balls. I can’t be the only one like this… right?

Are you guys overachievers too? How do you decide which stuff to prioritize? When does pole start falling by the wayside–when you have a hot date, or only when work stuff comes up?

XOXOXO,

A very frazzled Cathy.

BREAKING NEWS: 300 Sandwiches Chick Cried After Her Pole Dancing Class

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater

She didn’t feel sexy enough.

Reenactment of what this girl's boyfriend looks like. NOT sandwich-worthy. And possibly undead.
Reenactment of what this girl’s boyfriend looks like. NOT sandwich-worthy. And possibly undead.

Jeeeeeeeeeeeez o’petes this makes me sad.

First, the whole story makes me feel yucky. Guy tells girlfriend, “Babe, you are 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring.”

Girl “jokingly” starts a blog documenting her sandwich-making pipeline to a rock. Except, how much of a “joke” is this if she’s calculating the time breakdown of sandwich making/distribution so that she can be engaged and married before her mid-thirties?

How much of a joke is it if she’s seriously and in earnest using words like “wife material”? How secure is she in herself and her relationship if she’s freaking out at a pole dancing class because “not looking sexy enough” means her boyfriend is going to look at other girls?

None of this seems particularly funny to me.

Not that I’m being judgy here–I completely empathize with her. But let’s just call it what this whole sandwich experiment is: a tactic to win love and approval from somebody who should already love and approve of you. And that’s fucked up. It’s not cute. It’s not a joke. And if somebody dangles a ring in front of you like it’s some kind of carrot on a stick for you to prove that you’re “wife material,” I’ll have to quote Dan Savage and advise you to DTMF.

As far as this woman’s experience with pole dancing, as a teacher, I can tell you she’s hardly in the minority for crying after. Girls get really down on themselves in beginner classes for not being able to achieve a stripper aesthetic within their first hour. Which is crazy to me, because who is even looking at you? Your boyfriend is not here! This is about learning tricks and having fun, and sweating a little in the process. If you already walked in looking like a rock star on the pole, why bother taking a class? It’s about learning and having fun, not being perfect or using the class as a litmus test for how hot you are.

If there is any man-related sexy to be gained from pole dance, it comes from the confidence you get through expressing yourself. Chances are, as a beginner, you don’t have a pole at home, and no men are allowed in the studio. All you take with you when you finish a class is how you feel. If you come out down and crying over not looking sexy enough, what’s the point?

Oh and NEWSFLASH: most men don’t even find what I do on the pole now sexy. What they really like to see is what I promise you everyone can already do: pop your booty, flip your hair, and smirk like you know exactly what you’re doing.

You don’t need a class for that. (Seriously, try it the next time you’re at a club: make eye contact with a guy, smile, and do a little head roll while you’re dancing. That is NOT a banana in his pants, ladies).

stephanie smith
Okay so IRL he has a tan, but STILL.

Moral of the story: if you have a boyfriend, he should love you. Sandwiches are bonus. Pole dancing is bonus. And if you DO want to do these things, for god’s sake, do them because you genuinely want to. Life is too short for crying after class.

OH, just wondering though… can we all speculate as to which studio she went to? Clues: Midtown, and the class is likely called “Climb and Spin”… GO!

Happy (SELFISH) twirls!

Cathy

Can we continue to talk about nonsense because pole hurts and is boring right now?

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater

I have to lol at all the backlash against the Fonji, AKA IMOTW: Impossible Move of the Week.

Noooooope.
Noooooope.

Like, what are you people, Olympic gymnasts? I loved that anyone looked at this utter insanity and though, hmm, I could do that but I would prefer not too. Like that’s even a possibility for me in this lifetime, laaaaaaaaawl.

Anyway. Slow pole week. I’m mostly chipping away at things that are extremely difficult and painful, but are unimpressive, such as mid-air choppers and the elusive elbow hold. No one is impressed by this, but holy cow does it hurt.

So instead, let’s discuss IST: Idiotic Small Talk, and also, my rage that people don’t seem to know how to talk to each other aside from the same asinine comments about what people are wearing or the weather. (Or you can just skip to the Louis CK vid below, which more succinctly does all my complaining for me).

But first, the TSCIHEO: The Stupidest Conversation I Have Ever Overheard. It goes like this: two dumbasses who apparently work together get into an elevator. After a “hey” and several seconds of silence, the male dumbass says to the female dumbass, “Oooooh, it’s hot coffee season.” (She is holding a cup of hot coffee).

More seconds of silence, as the FD (female dumbass) slowly absorbs the concept that it is fall, and thus cool, and she is holding a hot coffee. Then she says, “I don’t really drink coffee.”

More silence. I have the urge to kill both of them. Instead, I glance at her cup of coffee suggestively. The suggestion being, YOU ARE HOLDING A CUP OF COFFEE WHAT ARE YOU SAYING STOP THIS MADNESS.

“I drink lattes,” she says. Like that clears it up. But she doesn’t just say “lattes.”She says “leh-TAYS.”

Leh-TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYS.

Of course I had to give her a look again because a latte is coffee AND WHY ARE YOU SAYING IT LIKE THAT????

Then they got off the elevator. It was a 20-second interaction, but it set a murderous tone for my whole day. And then I went to lunch and this guy ran up to hug this girl and the first thing she says is, “Hiiiiiiiii (heavy on the vocal fry, natch)… I like your shiiiiiirt?”

I know I’m being a bitch and there’s nothing wrong with complimenting somebody’s shirt, but really? They looked like they were long lost friends, running through the streets to throw their arms around each other and reunite. And that’s all they had to say. I LIKE YOUR SHIIIIIIRT?

OOOH, IT’S HOT COFFEE SEASON.

I DRINK LEHTAAAAAAAAAAAAAYS.

(I swear I’m not getting my period).

Is this why we’re all frantically hiding behind our smart phones in social situations? We just have nothing of important to say to one another anymore?

I mean, when I see my friends or colleagues, I genuinely want to know how they’ve been. I wonder if my friend who’s a groomer finally got enough dogs at her new job; I wonder how my hooping friend’s show went. I wonder if that rando guy from San Francisco ever DID call K. (He didn’t, womp womp. Guys, quick aside: why do you beg for a girl’s number so you can “call you tomorrow” and just not? Mysteries of the Universe, hmph).

Just, the moronic shit humans say to other humans makes me want to rip their gold iphones out of their hands and plug up their mouths with them. And then probably take the iphones back out and run away with them, because my phone got stolen and I need to check my Gmail, mang!

I saw Louis CK’s bit on Conan yesterday, and as usual, agreed with him so much that I welled up and almost kissed my computer monitor. So watch it, and it his honor, let’s all make the world a less irritating place by having a genuine conversation with someone today. Bonus points if you wait for your coffee at Starbucks without scrolling through your phone, like the guy who just completely missed my sexy posturing and shy-yet-interested smiling. Laaaaaaaame.

Anyway here’s Louie:

XOXOXOXO
Cathy

Can we talk about boys for a second?

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater

I have a theory: dating in New York and dating in high school are exactly the same. 1. It’s really exciting when a boy has a car, and 2. you still have to watch out for hickeys.

(*ices neck*)

So, I did something super out of character and went to a club.

(I KNOW).

But here’s the twist: it was a Korean club, which means way, way fewer New Jersey bros, which vastly improves the club experience.

In fact, it was mainly a ton of really well-dressed, well-mannered, sophisticated as f*** gentleman. By gentlemen, I mean that NO ONE humped me from behind, but I did get lots of dancing, the aforementioned canoodling, and offers to buy drinks! (SERIOUSLY GUYS NEVER BUY ANYMORE, WHAT A TREAT). Oh, and if you decline the alcoholic ones, a gentleman will buy you water, because only plebian cads want to see you get sloppy.

(Pulp Fiction got it wrong by the way–the best thing to see when you come back from the bathroom is a cute guy in a suit holding a bottle of water he bought for you. I died and went to heaven for a second).

So let’s hear it for the boys, ladies! This one even drove me home at 5 in the morning and didn’t try to weasel his way into my house. What a great night, what a great guy–and a not so great bruise on my neck, but I’ll deal. Hi Patrick!

Now, compare that to the white dude who messaged me from OKCupid (Two notes on this: 1. Yes, I took y’alls advice and got on there, because I realized I’m never going to meet a nice single guy in a belly dance class, and 2. No, I don’t date white guys that often because I find them entitled, boring, and WAY too fond of a popped collar. Also, they all secretly like Dave Matthews. What’s up with that????)

Anyway, in this case, I decided to have an open mind and give it a chance. The guy seemed nice. We had a decent convo about performing (he’s a musician), and he suggested we meet up. It was almost harder to say no than yes. Why not?

We decided on Union Square for general location, because it’s equidistant to his uptown and my Brooklyn addresses. But funny enough, he didn’t seem to know where he wanted me to meet him. NBD, I would get there and text him, I figured, and we’d pick the place together.

But, the night before I lost my phone at the club (nooooooooooooo), so I had to email him asking for the location in advance.

“Ok, gotcha. Let’s meet in front of Whole Foods.”

satc

…

Chicka what?

I withheld judgment and instead went to my friends house to make scrambled eggs, talk about our previous night (she kissed a boy too, holla! WE NEVER DO THIS, SERIOUSLY), and get a second opinion. She was as sassy about the situation as I felt, which was encouraging. “That’s bullshit–he’s going to ask a lady to wait outside on the street for him? Get out of here with that.”

My thoughts exactly. So I politely wrote back, she peering over my shoulder with approval, “How about we meet inside somewhere?”

Gentle reader, you probably already see where this is going, but my jaw dropped.

“Oh, okay… meet me inside Whole Foods.”

…

INSIDE Whole Foods? Oh, okay, that makes all the difference. LOLOLOLOLOLOL.

You guys, this douche honestly thought I was going to schlep all the way into the city on a Saturday night to stand around in a grocery store waiting for him.

Shockingly, I declined. And then (not so shockingly) he insinuated that it was because I was materialistic. Oh PLEASE–I can buy my own drinks and dinner–the issue at hand is how crass and thoughtless it is to ask a first date to wait for you in a grocery store instead of somewhere comfortable and warm, such as a bar. Or hell, just anywhere with chairs, and no produce section.

I guess the moral of the story is, no more white boys. Seriously. Literally anything else will do.

Regale me: what’s the worst first date you’ve had? Or offer of a date?

This would have been my 3rd from OkC, and not even the most disastrous, next to The Guy Who Wouldn’t Talk About Anything But The Game of Thrones and Closeted Gay Guy.

Marginally related: the Korean club had poles and go-go dancers, which has now made me wonder if this could be my dream job. Just, up on a pole, surrounded by hot guys in suits. Yes. Please.

(Jokes aside, If you have ever go-goed, please email me about it or comment because I’m curious as to what it’s like).

XOXOXO and wishing you happy poling and dating!

Cathy

I’m aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive (as in, no, I didn’t die (!!))

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater

Quick, enjoy this clip of 1980’s Xanadu while I come up with some stuff to tell you about!

I hope that was sufficiently weird for everyone.

So. HAI!!! I MISSED YOU GUYS!!!

You know how sometimes you go through periods of talking about stuff and not really doing it, and then you go periods of doing stuff and not really talking about it?

I have been doing the latter, and you guys would be SO proud of me. I feel like an actual… dancer. This is sort of what my schedule has been like (post day-job, naturally): 

Mondays: 2 hours belly dance (class and a Fireblossom’s rehearsal)

Tuesday: Night job… with a little stretching and Fireblossom’s routine running as soon as my shift is up (I work in a gym with small dance studio area)

Wednesday: 3 hours Bellyqueen rehearsal (for the upcoming Silk Roads show), followed by an hour of pole class

Thursday: Night class! I’m learning Digital Marketing, you guys! No dancing 😦

Friday: 3 hours Bellyqueen rehearsal, an hour of pole class

Saturday: Flexibility class, pole class, Fireblossoms routine drilling with K

Sunday: Pole class, hoop class, hula hoop class (this is my work study day so I hang out at the studio for several glorious hours and sneak into classes, muhahahaha)

…And then I wake up very sore on Monday and do it all over again. Oh and I’ve been RUNNING. Wat?!!! I truly have no idea what’s gotten into me lately. I just feel very in my body and out of my head lately. It’s cool.

Anyway, here’s some stuff I learned about constantly exercising:

1. Stretching after is MANDATORY

I’m not really a huge fan of stretching before a workout unless it’s part of an official warm up. But after, when I’m all warm, and I know I’m gonna be stiff for the next very full day of stuff tomorrow? You bet your ass I’m stretching. Also, not stretching when you’re all warm and don’t have to be anywhere? Wasted flexibility-building opportunity.

2. Eating is TOTALLY mandatory

I started noticing that two hours into Bellyqueen’s 3 hour rehearsals is impromptu dancer lunch time… and I was the only one not eating while everybody else was busting out sandwiches and fruit salads n’shit. These girls dance for a living, so I think it’s safe to take their cue on making time to fuel up.

3. You really have to listen to your body

I have so much physical stuff going on that I really can’t afford to get injured right now. I’m learning to take my ego out of it and walk away from a pole move if I can feel I’m not getting it and it’s straining the wrong places. You can always try again tomorrow, it’s not that serious. And it’s certainly not worth having an arm or a leg out of commission for a week.

So what has everybody else been up to?! Any new developments? I’m working on my extended butterfly, flying choppers (yes, the ones that gave me a car crash bruise last year), some spin combos, and my archnemesis, aerial choppers (I think I finally have it on my left side, it’s just… very slow). I’m also trying to trap/shoulder-mount out of inverts instead of sliding to help build those core muscles up and get more control. So far so good!

Anyway, FILL ME IN–what’s new?

XOXO,

Cathy

I’m burnt out and someone pooped on the towels: NOTHING LEFT TO DO HERE.

Posted on by Cathy Vandewater

So, it’s been a strange week.

-I was in Boston, which was GREAT.

-I met a boy, which was okay, and then great, and then meh.

-I got a fantastic opportunity to work on a Bellyqueen show coming up (which is an unbelievable learning experience–BALANCING A CANE ON MY HEAD LIKE A BOSS–but it’s a 6 hour weekly commitment).

And thus… I’ve made it to exactly 2 pole classes in two weeks. 😐

misc-nothing-to-do-here-l

Oh, and then to put a cherry on top of a banner week, in the last two minutes of my 10 hour work day at my gym job over the weekend, I opened a washing machine full of our towels and discovered someone had shit on them.

Like literally.

Somebody shit on the towels.

I have a lot of questions about this, but mainly the situation just made me instantly really tired. Like, seriously? So close to going home and now I have to figure out what to do with an arm full of wet, shitty towels?

(We threw them away, in case you were wondering. But not before I had an existential moment in the laundry room, just staring at them with my mouth open).

Anyway, I’m really focused on learning tons of new choreo for the Bellyqueen show, working extra hours at my nights-and-weekends-job (so I can afford the time off from my day job that the show rehearsals require), and as much as I want to be in the pole studio I’m just so… exhausted. I caaaaaaaaaan’t.

The one class I took last week (SIX DAYS AGO… I HAVE NOT TOUCHED A POLE IN SIX DAYS) was great, but I made it suck because I was mentally checked out. Ie. not trying very hard, giving up quickly, being kind of a whiny pain in the ass… (“it huuuuuuuurts!”)

It’s just that when I’m tired, pole feels felt like one more item to tick on my to-do list before I can watch SATC with a sandwich and collapse.

(NB: My desire to watch SATC all the time when I’m burnt out is extra ironic because Chris Noth lives in the building I work at. So I’ll just look at him like GOD CHRIS NOTH CAN YOU PLEASE JUST LEAVE SO I CAN GO HOME AND WATCH YOU HURT SARAH JESSICA PARKER’S FEELINGS???). Eh. I just want what I want, okay?

Bad attitude, I know.

And yet I haven’t adjusted it. Even now I’m like lol I won’t be able to do a push up in a week if I keep this up, too bad, guess I won’t change anything I’m doing! SANDWICHES AND NETFLIX PLS.

Maybe I just need a lil’ more rest and I’ll be back in the game soon. I hope. If not, someone please help force me 😐

The funny thing is, I’m still poling in my head constantly and finding lots of great new music (playlist coming soon). So until then, I HEARD THIS SONG AND I CAN’T WAIT TO FLOW TO IT WHEN I GET MY ACT TOGETHER: (ps. is it just me or is Marvin Gaye having a moment?)

Happy twirls!

CV