Lookie them cute talented young lasses! I was assigned the task of getting a 30-minute dance performance for the event about a month ago, and I thought my shortlived career as a copywriter/translator/client service exec/event organiser would be coming to an abrupt, tragic end when the dance academy headmistress called and cancelled 2 weeks away from D-Day. She said she's having horrible gut-wrenching morning sickness. After leaving me with a few other contact numbers, she hung up and refused to pick up my calls ever since. So the Yes Girls (oh, the corniness) was what I was left with. No academy or company wanted to take the risk fighting against time. So I gritted my teeth, went to someone's grandmother's (gasp) house to check out the girls (and in the process got lost several times, my sandals were partially eaten by their dog, and realised that the girls weren't professionals, just a bunch of kids putting up retarded dance moves at dinner shows where people are actually more interested in the food), watched the kids scream at each other (and their mothers screaming at each other), painstakingly survived a few more sessions (Boss forced me to agree to not bitchslap anybody under any circumstances because we had no more choices), snarled some threats (to not pay a cent)... And then it was D-Day.
Their performance sucked (with the exception of Erica, the Ariel in yellow - if it's not for her uber-bitchy grandmother I'm definitely bagging her as a talent). I'm glad the food at the carnival sucked harder than the dance. My client wouldn't stop complaining about the size of the fried chicked wings served. Yay.
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