Denise Jones has such a warped sense of humour that she saw a troupe of male strippers as an opportunity.
No, not that kind of opportunity. Perhaps this needs some deeper explaining.
Jones is a theatrical comedian. She is an actor, improvisation specialist, arts administrator, and now she can add in "male stripper" to the list.
Your eyes are not playing tricks on you, and this is not a gender identity test. She, a self-identifying female, is now a stripper of the male persuasion. Except, she never actually strips. The only real peeling is the laughter.
Jones has set a new kind of standard, one that smashes all previous glass ceilings. She attended a performance by The Comic Strippers, a comedy group populated by her friends from around the Vancouver performing arts community, and she didn't just love the show, she wanted to be in it.
The chief cook and shoe polisher with The Comic Strippers, Roman Danylo, didn't get his bow tie in a knot. Another knot. A naughty knot. He immediately saw the sets appeal.
"I actually wormed my way in. I thought the show was so great, why wouldn't I want to be part of that?" Jones said. "Roman just said huh, yeah, all the dudes in the cast are fictitious male strippers. I could be just as fictitious as the next guy."
Guy? Is that the word, when not everyone is male? Sure, "guy" has been widely characterized as a non-gender-specific term, but that isn't consensus, and suddenly words and definitions matter in the Comic Strippers world.
"I do actually struggle with gender non-binary issues," she said. "That goes back a long way. Like when I might be on stage and it occurs to me to say 'hello ladies and gentlemen.' Knowing what we know, now, that seems odd to say. It's incomplete, it isn't necessarily accurate, and it isn't inclusive."
Rather than flip through the dictionary, she tuns to the true painters of lexicon: comedians. One of her friends uses the phrase "people of earth" to address crowds. Another exercises the word "guls" because it conveniently packages guys and gals.
Speaking of packages, The Comic Strippers are each called "chips" and none of them ever actually disrobes. With her fake moustache and manly wig, Jones might actually be wearing more clothes than her on-stage colleagues. No matter.
"No one ever addresses the fact that I'm a woman. That is not part of the show. It's not something we make anything of," Jones said.
"And I love that, because it makes it automatically more inclusive. I just happen to be a male stripper. Take me as I am. Everyone is taken as they are."
It doesn't even come up in the "chip checks" - the staff meetings where the various cast members discuss new material, analyze the recent shows, and keep the act in motion.
There are many "chips" all called in from the performers of the Lower Mainland scene. Sometimes a show will use up to six cast members, many as low as four, and they work on a rotational basis so everyone involved can stay fresh and pursue other gigs as well.
"I've been able to do a lot in my career as an actor, an improviser, the former artistic director for Vancouver TheatreSports League for the past five years, and honestly this is the most joyful show I've ever been part of," she said.
"It's just so stupid and fun and doesn't have to delve deeper into issues. It's just so body positive and joyous. That's my only end goal. If I get to make people feel good and take a break from the fresh bad news on the planet, then that's the job for me."
Up there she's just another one of the guls.
The Comic Strippers will strut their stuff on the stage of the Prince George Playhouse on Friday and Saturday.
Tickets are moving fast. Get them online anytime at the Central Interior Tickets website.
