Falling Off The Piano In A Little Red Dress

It started out so simply.

Christina asked Norma and I to contribute short bios and photos for the Blog Entourage, since we've occasionally contributed over there. That's not a problem. I've got a decent picture of myself out there on the web (one of the few pictures of me; I'm usually the one with the camera, and rarely the one getting photographed). It was taken at the Visitor Centre in Algonquin Park, and I look all serious and moody. I like it, and for awhile now I've been using it in various social media sites I belong to. Incidentally, there are much less serious pictures of me out there, usually making faces with another relative or two (often my younger brother, who is just as noisy as I am when we get around each other). They're the sort of pictures that make my father sigh in chagrin.

Anyway, Christina suggested that I could just as easily have a picture taken of myself with a rose in my mouth on top of a piano. Just like Michelle Pfeiffer, in The Fabulous Baker Boys.

You've all seen the scene. Michelle plays a singer who joins the Baker brothers, the pianists played by Jeff and Beau Bridges. At one point, she's singing Makin' Whoopee in a profoundly sultry way, lying on a piano in a very sexy red dress. It's just the sort of thing to get a guy's imagination running in all sorts of naughty, naughty directions. And a few girl's imaginations, for that matter. It may have been awhile since you've seen the scene, so have a look.  We'll wait for you.

Steamy, huh? Among the many thoughts I've had watching that scene is the following: what a lucky piano. 

Before you start tut-tutting, I've had the same kind of thought watching Faith Hill and her video for Breathe. If you need to refresh your memory, here it is. It was along the lines of what a lucky bedsheet. Now that I've admitted that, you can tut-tut and wag your finger at me.

At least my parents don't read my blog. I think they'd have more then a few choice words about my lusting after Michelle Pfeiffer and Faith Hill. And if by chance they do... hi, Mom! I swear... I can explain everything.

My first thought was imagining myself sitting on top of an upright piano, singing some Sinatra, and promptly falling off. I can see myself singing. Regrets, I've had a few, but all in all, I did it... oh, hell, ouch!!!! Who made the piano so slippery?  It would either be Sinatra, or some Great Big Sea, which doesn't really qualify as the right kind of music for singing on top of a piano. Although The Old Black Rum would be an understandable reason why the singer in question would be falling off the piano.

Apparently such an image isn't nearly enough for my fellow instigators of mischief and mayhem. Norma and Christina would much rather have me in a red sequin dress and heels on top of the piano. I'm not sure I could pull that off. It's safe to say that I'd tear the dress. It's not like such dresses are made for someone of my build, right? Besides, my legs just couldn't pull that look off. And I suspect that high heels were invented by a sadist.

And as it is, the closest I'll come to wearing a dress is a Scottish kilt (no, we're not supposed to say what we're wearing underneath, lassie, so stop asking and get me my trousers, it's getting cold, and I can feel a draft where there's not supposed to be a draft).

They just want to get a picture of me in drag. Of course, the lovely thing about the internet is that once there's a picture of you out there sprawled on a piano in a little red dress and pumps, it's there forever. And it'll come back to haunt you. If, for example, I should, in twenty years time, become the Prime Minister, or even better, Supreme Majestor of the world (my world domination plans continue to proceed smoothly, by the way... thanks for asking), it'll still be deeply embarrassing if a member of the press asks that pivotal question one day:

"Supreme Almighty One, can you explain this footage of you singing I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt in a red dress on a piano?"

"Fellas, get my shotgun. I've got a blogger lusting after my wife who I want to shoot... I mean, talk to."