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Pie Fight Night (with a few tangents)
Jan. 22nd, 2005 12:06 am**cannot do a cut from my computer at home - apologies for a long post if you aren't into reading this much xo-cindy**
Amazing good life affirming reading at Translate to a small crowd but I felt alive and good and if that one sleazy guy hadn't kept trying to touch me it would've been better, but I took care of myself and the art was good and I love a performance which led me to...
Jon Sims Center
The air is nearly buzzing with tulle and makeup and hairspray fumes as people rush and run. I get to be stage mom for five minutes or less as I fix final_girl's tutu and hug beckastar. Charliegirl is the diva in PVC and black flowery lace top that is brilliant and those patent leather fluevogs that I have coveted since I saw them at the one counter culture store in Michigan in 1992 - but that's another story. She is moving crazy fast in those brief girl steps that skinny shiny pencil skirts worn with platform heels require while the house keeps on filling up. The first round of proper seats are full, and the crowd sitting on the floor is shuffled around to add more seating, people are standing all down the hall and making with the patient booty shaking as the DJs spin mash up wonder. Reporters on hand, cameras poised, we are all waiting for the glittery eruption of BALLERINA PIE FIGHT!
Lynnee Breedpal is the Emcee tonight - perfect monster truck bravado in mirrored glasses, 1993 Madonna tshirt, vintage tux shirt and DIY trucker cap. Rock it out. The official DJs of SF Club hit Bootie mix up Nine Inch Nails HURT with Beatles COME TOGETHER, it is evil hot - vicious. Floor seats are added again as the front row looks sure to get thier hands on pie shrapnel and the room starts to fully reach capacity. A guy settles into the seat in front of me and I invite him to get rowdy and cheer with me. His super beautiful gay shirt is black with red stars and glittery doesn't even begin to cover it. The fashion forward are in the house.
We wait so long that the traditional San Francisco attitude starts to fall away. Like excited nine year olds who know that the cake is coming soon - camraderie and smiles are plentiful. So many random introductions and new friends. Broken necks of plastic flowers wrap around the makeshift boxing ring with decades of old theatre tinsel while the ballerinas file in and out of backstage like atheletes crossing the field. This is no easy task, we are their cheering fans.
The house is now scary full and the heat and expectancy is growing. Lynnee runs over and we brainstorm some ballet lingo and monster truck rally chants. The rowdy blonde quartet behind me move fully into their drunk and start yelling about ballerinas showing their tits. Good to know that women yell that as well as men. The dancers are warming up in rag tag tiaras.
ROUND 1
It starts off with grace, but by pie number two there has been a direct cleavage hit and all semblance of Checceti Method is gone. Pie three hits in the face and it is on. A double bow leads into...
ROUND 2
Pies are missing as the rowdy dancers in the wings lead the crowd in a chant of PIES PIES PIES. Pies are quickly procured and frosting is flying, dancers are down as the taffetta tulle and pretty gives way to cream and bananas and hairs that looks more like pastries than coiffures. The audience chants FACE FACE FACE and a double pirouette lands a pie square in the puss.
ROUND 3: Natasha Cream Puff vs. Coco Loco
The first dildo in the pie fight rears its head, as a pie gets fucked American Pie style and then is promptly cleaned off with excellent oral technigue by opponent ballerina. Then the dancers tumble to the ground in a clothes tearing, fully rowdiest, down the panties pie smush. Faces, wigs, hair, breast are all creamy chaos as the scent of bana cream sugar fills the air.
ROUND 4
Dancers in the wings lick cream ferociously off of theri fingers as the boy ballerinas prepare to face off in true tutu stylle. Testosterone fights fabulous excess as wrestling and aarm bending culimates in piggyback pie facing - this is not what was ever meant by barebacking - though it does seem to have potential as the next fashionable sex fetish.
Round 5
Swanee River vs Tiny vs Victor
This threesom has total glee and abandon as pie and people slide like figure skater across the slippery black vinyl. Fully the most graceful team as Victor ends up drenched in pie and is it possible that Prima Ballerina Tiny got no pie in her thick and ropey hair? Back to the wings, and it seems Tiny has won - SURPRISE AMBUSH as she is pie faced and falls into a pie tumble that looks remarkable like mud wrestling, but all the mud is white and sugary.
Round 6
Anastatia vs Degas
Degas in 80's striped leotard and this pair has it choreographed. Tension builds as they move through Grand Jete, arms into 5th position and the beautiful taut moment breaks free as pies fly and the dancers dall onto the slick floor into the now predictable pie tumble wrestle makeout goodness. Violence into sex into kssing licking pie lust. She is pinned, down for the count, we have a winner, but no one can tell who is who in all of the pie.
The dancers line up for the final photo, order reigns for 5 seconds and ammunition is culled from faces, hair, etc and rowdy free for all ensues. Photo shoots falls into an orgy of pie love while one of dancers starts huffing on a whipped cream can, are they high on nitrous or sugar and it doesn't even matter anymore. Tutus are torn and no one can stand in the quicksand of pie debris and it is this beautiful chaos that makes me love San Francisco.
Amazing good life affirming reading at Translate to a small crowd but I felt alive and good and if that one sleazy guy hadn't kept trying to touch me it would've been better, but I took care of myself and the art was good and I love a performance which led me to...
Jon Sims Center
The air is nearly buzzing with tulle and makeup and hairspray fumes as people rush and run. I get to be stage mom for five minutes or less as I fix final_girl's tutu and hug beckastar. Charliegirl is the diva in PVC and black flowery lace top that is brilliant and those patent leather fluevogs that I have coveted since I saw them at the one counter culture store in Michigan in 1992 - but that's another story. She is moving crazy fast in those brief girl steps that skinny shiny pencil skirts worn with platform heels require while the house keeps on filling up. The first round of proper seats are full, and the crowd sitting on the floor is shuffled around to add more seating, people are standing all down the hall and making with the patient booty shaking as the DJs spin mash up wonder. Reporters on hand, cameras poised, we are all waiting for the glittery eruption of BALLERINA PIE FIGHT!
Lynnee Breedpal is the Emcee tonight - perfect monster truck bravado in mirrored glasses, 1993 Madonna tshirt, vintage tux shirt and DIY trucker cap. Rock it out. The official DJs of SF Club hit Bootie mix up Nine Inch Nails HURT with Beatles COME TOGETHER, it is evil hot - vicious. Floor seats are added again as the front row looks sure to get thier hands on pie shrapnel and the room starts to fully reach capacity. A guy settles into the seat in front of me and I invite him to get rowdy and cheer with me. His super beautiful gay shirt is black with red stars and glittery doesn't even begin to cover it. The fashion forward are in the house.
We wait so long that the traditional San Francisco attitude starts to fall away. Like excited nine year olds who know that the cake is coming soon - camraderie and smiles are plentiful. So many random introductions and new friends. Broken necks of plastic flowers wrap around the makeshift boxing ring with decades of old theatre tinsel while the ballerinas file in and out of backstage like atheletes crossing the field. This is no easy task, we are their cheering fans.
The house is now scary full and the heat and expectancy is growing. Lynnee runs over and we brainstorm some ballet lingo and monster truck rally chants. The rowdy blonde quartet behind me move fully into their drunk and start yelling about ballerinas showing their tits. Good to know that women yell that as well as men. The dancers are warming up in rag tag tiaras.
ROUND 1
It starts off with grace, but by pie number two there has been a direct cleavage hit and all semblance of Checceti Method is gone. Pie three hits in the face and it is on. A double bow leads into...
ROUND 2
Pies are missing as the rowdy dancers in the wings lead the crowd in a chant of PIES PIES PIES. Pies are quickly procured and frosting is flying, dancers are down as the taffetta tulle and pretty gives way to cream and bananas and hairs that looks more like pastries than coiffures. The audience chants FACE FACE FACE and a double pirouette lands a pie square in the puss.
ROUND 3: Natasha Cream Puff vs. Coco Loco
The first dildo in the pie fight rears its head, as a pie gets fucked American Pie style and then is promptly cleaned off with excellent oral technigue by opponent ballerina. Then the dancers tumble to the ground in a clothes tearing, fully rowdiest, down the panties pie smush. Faces, wigs, hair, breast are all creamy chaos as the scent of bana cream sugar fills the air.
ROUND 4
Dancers in the wings lick cream ferociously off of theri fingers as the boy ballerinas prepare to face off in true tutu stylle. Testosterone fights fabulous excess as wrestling and aarm bending culimates in piggyback pie facing - this is not what was ever meant by barebacking - though it does seem to have potential as the next fashionable sex fetish.
Round 5
Swanee River vs Tiny vs Victor
This threesom has total glee and abandon as pie and people slide like figure skater across the slippery black vinyl. Fully the most graceful team as Victor ends up drenched in pie and is it possible that Prima Ballerina Tiny got no pie in her thick and ropey hair? Back to the wings, and it seems Tiny has won - SURPRISE AMBUSH as she is pie faced and falls into a pie tumble that looks remarkable like mud wrestling, but all the mud is white and sugary.
Round 6
Anastatia vs Degas
Degas in 80's striped leotard and this pair has it choreographed. Tension builds as they move through Grand Jete, arms into 5th position and the beautiful taut moment breaks free as pies fly and the dancers dall onto the slick floor into the now predictable pie tumble wrestle makeout goodness. Violence into sex into kssing licking pie lust. She is pinned, down for the count, we have a winner, but no one can tell who is who in all of the pie.
The dancers line up for the final photo, order reigns for 5 seconds and ammunition is culled from faces, hair, etc and rowdy free for all ensues. Photo shoots falls into an orgy of pie love while one of dancers starts huffing on a whipped cream can, are they high on nitrous or sugar and it doesn't even matter anymore. Tutus are torn and no one can stand in the quicksand of pie debris and it is this beautiful chaos that makes me love San Francisco.
