Rumor has it, that the amazing Dawn ZigZag Montefusco will be holding her "Aural Pleasures" reading again in a month or so. I will be, uhm, speaking/reading/performing this essay, along with an electronic percussion set this time, and upright bass (cough) and perhaps a clarinet. Not sure if it needs more "story" or not, but it was a hit last time, even though I was in pigtails & jeans and nervous as hell, reading in public. I might tune it up for round two, maybe toss in a few choice words, a short skirt, a little attitude & some tall leather boots! I'm also thinking about throwing some "signed balls" to the crowd. Stay tuned for deets, and if you're in PDX in March, please stop by and experience this event for yourself. It's a great time! Keep Portland Weird & all that. I'll post the exact date when it arrives.
It just slipped right in on the first try, so of course I was thrilled. Ecstatic might be a better word. I danced naked around my bedroom in front of the ceiling-to-floor closet mirror before taking the next step towards total and utter grandeur.
In the center of the room, facing the mirror, I pushed my ass back, then flung my hips forward, aiming front and center towards my own grinning reflection. In my mind’s eye, I was on stage, in front of the cheering crowd, just like the scene in the movie Priscilla Queen of the Desert. When I first saw that scene, where the Asian mail-order bride dances on the bar counter and shoots ping pong balls out of her twat into an adoring crowd, I had sugar plum visions instantly. I’d been thinking about it for years! So when I saw the six-pack of bright orange ping pong balls in the markdown bin in the seasonal section of the grocery store, I couldn’t pass them up. I imagined hula hooping across the Playa at Burning Man while shooting a rainbow of signed balls along the way, disrupting the charity golf tournament, busting into the corporate Christmas extravaganza! This just felt like a party trick I could pull off. But first, I wanted to impress my lover. And that would take some practice.
So, here I was, alone in my bedroom, just me and my balls. I slipped it in and positioned myself in launch stance in front of the closet door-slash mirror, rocked my hips forward and squeezed HARD! Oh no! No, no, no, no! The ball stayed put and I shot a fire-hose strength stream of pee all over the mirror. Dammit! I was devastated. The vision ruined! I cursed big-headed babies and vowed to do more Kegels. I went to the bathroom to squeeze every last bit of piss out before trying again. The second try went much better, but still wasn’t perfect and the whole pee thing was kind of a downer. Sigh.
A few days later my partner, Brad, was lying in bed, the light still on while I brushed my teeth – the perfect opportunity to relieve him of the work night drowsies and show off my talents. I’d accomplished a few dry runs and was back in party mode, ready to rock the pussy pong. I stood over him and wagged my ample hips. “Hey baby,” I teased. “Want somma what I got?” He started to laugh, his legs doing little scissor kicks beneath the quilt. “Oh no,” he said. “What are you doing now?” At least the unexpected is expected in this relationship. I did the sexy moves above him for a few more seconds, then hips back, forward, back, forward, back, ….and let ‘er rip – and pissed all over his chest. Dammit! But the ball actually did pop out, bounced off of him and rolled under the bed. Brad howled with laughter. “I can honestly say,” he snorted. “That you’re the only woman who has ever shot ping pong balls out of her pussy at me.” He got a towel, dried off his chest, crawled naked and pheromone-enhanced back into bed and immediately commenced with deep, loud, animal snoring.
Novelty yes. Sexy, uhhhhh no. He’d giggled. I’d sighed. Success? Kind of. I could only manage to consistently launch and not pee if I pinched my pee hole shut, which totally ruined the effect. NOT sexy. And the balls just didn’t have the lift I was looking for. I wanted arc, control, the power of the pelvic thrust!
In the movie, the balls seriously launch, as in fly through the air with a nice, long, beautifully curved arc. I know, it’s a movie. But still. Mine kind of splatted out – somewhere between launch and plop. Something just wasn’t right. So I pulled up the clip on YouTube and watched it over and over again. Aha! I was facing forward. She was facing backward. Physics, baby. Physics! I discussed this with some girlfriends and they agreed that the backwards pressure would surely give the ball the necessary force and lift to send it flying. It did seem to help, but it would take practice and multiple dress rehearsals to get it right.
One night after dinner I got ready for my next performance a little early, then returned to the dining room for a couple of glasses of wine and some competitive Scrabble. My plan was foiled, however by the third glass of wine and the fact that I was worn out from a long week. I forgot all about ping pong and passed out hard.
Two days later I was sitting on the toilet taking care of business before dashing off to work. I gave it one last squeeze for good measure and….holy shit! Something came out of the wrong hole! Stunned, confused, scared, I spun around to see what kind of alien had just splooged out of my body. Oh my god! A bright orange ping pong ball bobbed shamefully in the toilet. I stood in my little bathroom, dressed for work like a wolf in sheep’s clothing in a pencil skirt and silk blouse and stared for a few moments, as if in a dream. I had totally forgotten about it. Thank goodness it hadn’t been accidentally launched at a board meeting or in line at Starbucks. It could have been a career disaster, like the time my partner's ex-wife, an operating room nurse, dropped not one but two Ben Wa balls during surgery.
In any case, this story is not over. There are still five balls left out of the original six-pack. There’s practicing to do. The show must go on!