What’s a creative writing contest without spandex?
Dazzle me with comments. Win the hottest leggings in East Oakland.
This evening, after a Fugu puffer fish snack and an 1811 Château d’Yquem facial spritzer, I rode my Swaravski-encrusted scooter down to the office wing to check on the progress of my new website. As it turns out, the team of designers I’d outsourced from southeast Asia — hadn’t gotten the call inviting them to be outsourced, and so they therefore didn’t exist.
Huggghhhh. Details! It’s so hard to delegate to one’s staff. One must, however. If not, one would merely be a solo entrepreneur, with no employees at all, spending late nights eating popcorn out of a pie plate with a soup spoon, while designing and writing all one’s own material, all by one’s self. (I would never do this.)
On that note, in the spirit of delegation, friends, I would like to outsource the rest of this blog — to YOU. Below, you will find a creative writing prompt. Cut loose and use your imagination to answer this prompt in the comments of this post. You will be paid for your “adding to the entertainment of Revolva’s blog” work in the opportunity to win some free stuff from my store. (Oh! And in exposure! Only fellow entertainers know the rich value of being paid in exposure.)
Wait — you have a store now, Revolva?
Yes, thanks for asking. I’ve been too busy dressing like Beyonce and hooping in a helmet for over 10 years to also manage a shop. Now, however, I’m shifting gears, and taking a cue from my “Do everything BIG!” approach to act building, I am not just opening any store. I’m launching a ROCK-store, people! It has the best, most badass things, like this:
and this …
and these…
Soon, there will also be online hoop instruction, and a book, and — I might also start selling real estate and life insurance. No one knows how deep this could go! Stay tuned to the Revolva Rock-store, to find out. It has hella funny captions, and it’s the place to be.
So, how can I win the leggings, Revolva? Get to the point!
Ah, yes. The contest. I’ve laid my old blog to rest, after several years of hosting “The Revolvies” parody hoop awards and writing snarky posts with nearly 20,000 hits, because — well, it wasn’t embedded in my site, and it wasn’t adding to my SEO. Good riddance. (Does anyone have a tissue?)
So for the 5 people on earth who are still reading, I propose that you help me launch this new blog with an assignment that combines two of my greatest loves: writing heartfelt prose and wearing ridiculous outfits. I am going to give away a pair of free leggings from the best store in East Oakland, CA — Chavita’s — to the person who answers this prompt in the most captivating way:
Q: If you nabbed a pair of the most badass leggings in East Oakland — what would your resulting alter-ego be called, and what would your super power be? Describe what you would do with this power.
Go! Answer in the comments! The first person to wildly impress me (or to answer at all; note: chances of winning are 100 percent if you are the only one to comment) may join hooping and spinning legends such as Kenna (UK), Valerie from Sol Stix (Germany), Kev — of the French boy band staff spinning troupe No Sweat (France), and our own Aileen Lawlor (Oakland, CA), all of whom have been pressured into wearing have fallen in love with Chavita’s.
What exact article of clothing do you win? It’s a surprise, because it may be dependent on your body type and what will fit YOU. But check out the Revolva Rock-store and the photos below for examples. Please note, I will pay shipping in the U.S. only; if you’re an international, and you have a way with words, you have to pay the leggings’ plane ticket your way.
Answer by noon, Sunday, Aug. 18. On Monday, Aug. 19, I’ll announce the winner.
And if you can’t wait or don’t want to write, go buy a jumpsuit right now. I picked out the best stuff for you!
Kenna, with UK meggings-crew, proving men can enter this contest.
Aileen can only do this move in sexy pants. Win, and you will do it, too — immediately.
My staff and I, test-driving some sweet gear.
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Megan Smith
August 13, 2013 -
So, here’s the thing. I already AM a superhero, with a superpower. WAIT, WHAT? WITHOUT THE LEGGINGS?? I know, I know….but I never said my superpower was getting dressed. And my superhero name is….wait for it….
The Twisted Gibbon!!! Soaring through time and space cross telephone wires, branches, watch her go!! Acrobatic and flawless transportation, from hoop festival to flow class, this girl twists through the skies! With the use of zero (that’s right, ZERO) fossil fuels, the most flexible, whimsical superhero hoop traveler yet! Just one problem….SHE’S NAKED! THAT’S RIGHT LADIES AND GENTLEMAN….naked. Revolva, please help to prevent me, The Twisted Gibbon, from being arrested for public indecency. This girl needs a superhero costume, and STAT!
<3
Megan Pru
August 13, 2013 -
Little did I know that strange tights and brightly patterned leggings had special powers. But lo and behold, as soon as I slip into a pair of skin-tight space pants or sparkle silver zebra print leggings, I transform from plain pixie to bouncy bootylicious butt-shaker in seconds. If a skinny white member of the itty bitty titty committee with very little junk in her trunk could twerk, oh boy would I be twerking up a storm in these pants-that-were-made-for-twerking, but lacking the gelatinous booty-mass necessary for such a maneuver, I simply pick up my LED hoop or flowlight wand (set on rainbow seizure sparkle-gasm mode, of course) and shake what my mama gave me, wee as it may be. My intensely bright lights and attempts to make my signature bouncy, belly-dancy, glitchy moves look sexy may not bring all the boys to the yard, but it does attract a legion of moths hoping to feast on bright lights. And thus, a star is born. Just call me the Sparkle-Seizure Twerk-Failer. At least I look good trying, thanks to sexy pants!
Maria
August 13, 2013 -
It was a dark day and my office hung heavy with the stench of despair and V2 Cigs. I was about to pour a second bottle of cheer, when she walked in.
She wouldna been my first choice in a dame. She came in outta the rain in need of some Frizz Ease and a hair pick . Her shoulder pads had lumps and her mascara was running like Tammy Faye. But that wasn’t the worst of it, see. Her story was written as clear as Monday’s paper. Her pilled and faded leggings tucked in her scrunched socks had succumbed to cellulite laden wedgie horror that belied her past glory days.
I recalled the popular headline of Louisa Le Leggings who used to put the “V” in Vavoom. I’d seen this rap sheet play out before: dames comin’ off the streets like drowned rats in need of the 21st century. I knew what to do and I didn’t need to sober up to do it.
She could have vogued with the best of ‘em, but she was in need more than a twerk. What this doll had comin’ was a quick lesson in fractals, sacred geometry, and how to pronounce “OM”. It didn’t take her long to learn that she could surf more than a New Wave. Soon she was online with a different type of revolution that involved spinning circles around her Skittle ridden core. Her eyes lit up like flashbulbs on a crime scene. Her vocabulary began to surpass her 80’s hey day and moved straight to anti-spin. By the time she sashayed outta my office, she was gonna be talking HoopPath slang.
But, my work wasn’t over that fast. Her last stop was to take care of the faded glory of her name sake. I took her straight to the source: Revolva.net. Revolva and I had a sordid past, but I was man enough to know a good thing when it hit me over the head with a fire hoop. Revolva’s leggings gave women confidence that no man with a full wallet on a lonely Saturday night could give.
Case closed. Or was it? Maybe it was the gin talkin’ that crazy night in Oakland, but I swear I saw a woman in a polka dot catsuit spinning a fire hoop on each appendage. With enough Quick Wicks, I might re-ignite my old flame with Revolva.
Tink/Kristen
August 14, 2013 -
Tokyo is a tough battlefield for the well-dressed hooper. Every district within the city has its own style and every age group a fashion icon to follow. Each and every urbanite wants to stand out as unique while staying firmly on trend. “Check me out, my denim mini skirt is different than everyone else’s this week. It has lace.”
So as I move around town, I can find myrself going from blending in perfectly to wildly obviously out of place in a single short walk from the train station.
The only option is to become TINK – Tokyo Identity, Not Kristen – and achieve invisibility by being as outlandish as possible.
By donning spandex tights and lots of glitter, TINK is effectively see-thru. Anyone who may see her will turn away. “She is not our kind,” they think and quickly forget her. This opens TINK to perform all sorts of hoopy mayhem, carry hoops on trains, or simply go grocery shopping without being asked for English practice.
Joe Lastowski
August 14, 2013 -
For months now, my legs have felt… a little empty. They always used to have that funny pseudo-chafe after shaving. But not since the creature came to me. Most guys don’t get that about the need for shaven legs… even the ones who wear skinny jeans. They don’t understand the importance of having smooth, hair-free legs when your costumes are so skin-tight, when the suave lines of your leggings cannot be disrupted by an errant hair. Now I find my legs just staying hair free on their own… some side effect of what happens when the creature moves over me. I’ve heard people talk about alien symbiotes before – in some spider guy comic or something – but I never imagined it would be like this. And this creature doesn’t seem to care about villainry like in the comics. No… this one cares solely about performance.
I suppose I attracted the creature to me as much as it sought me out. I was on that rooftop at night, my stereo blaring as I practiced some new hoop moves I’d seen on Youtube, just jamming out and losing myself in the hoop. It heard my music and moved towards me from the sky. Maybe it was left behind by its friends, a modern-day E.T., or maybe it was seeking a world less mundane than the vacuum of space. All I know is that once it found me, it did not let go.
During non-performance times, when I’m getting lunch or walking the dog or watching a movie, the creature remains inert within me, though I can always feel its eagerness to come out. And whenever a beat starts to drop, I can feel its milky, legging-like flesh wrap itself around me, and suddenly I become something else… something more. The moves I used to dream about… I’m suddenly able to perform flawlessly. The insane things I see the Hooping Idols do? I’m suddenly right there at their level. Even the ridiculous Russian hoop gymnasts have nothing on me when the creature is in control. I feel the pulse of the music through the creature, and it feeds my muscles the memories they need to explode in joy.
For a while I toyed with comic book names: The Hoop Master, Mr. Leggings, the Leg-Meister… but none of them felt right. In the end, it’s that joy I get, hooping in this costume, expressing myself physically and embodying the beat, that really defines this whole experience. So that’s how I refer to myself nowadays: JOY. I try to embody it, to share it, to make it a part of the world around me.
(Several years into the comic book’s run, he’ll realize that the “creature” is just a delusion and he’s been able to do all this awesome hooping stuff on his own by just embracing the joy of flow… but first I’ve got a lot of side-plots to run where I kill off favorite characters in a Whedonesque fashion).
Dylan T Bradley
August 14, 2013 -
Having experienced the power and magic of badass leggings, theres no if’s in the question of becoming a superhero. After ditching my constricting, stuffy, jeans and stepping into a breath of fresh air with leggings, I have vowed to never return to the old ways. As soon as that stretch fabric touches my skin I feel a surge energy through my entire body and become stuck in a permanent “twerk” like motion. Suddenly, my booty is bouncy and bangin and I am ready to dance till the break of dawn. In particular if I were to get a pair of leggings from chavita’s, I know the super hero that would arise. My superhoero alter ego’s name would be “Lil’ Snowflake” and her super human powers would consist of dowsing people in coconut oil and glitter, blingin bitches in the icy-est rhinestones, and spreading the power of that super human twerk. Bang!
Jenny Hill
August 16, 2013 -
Fancy Pants Pantoum
Home from work, she slips them on.
A universe hugs her legs, spins
circles of galactic cheer.
Her inner space sings outer space.
A universe hugs her legs, spins
nebulas of ideas in her mind.
Her inner space sings outer space.
She transforms into Hoopoetry.
Nebulas of ideas in her mind –
the birth place of a star!
She transforms into Hoopoetry –
loosens the tidal forces of the daily,
turns the dullest dust into smiling
circles of galactic cheer.
Home from work, she slips them on.
Becka Bushinski
August 16, 2013 -
Galaxy leggings have always fascinated me–any type of wild legging intrigues me. BUT I hesitate to even think about wearing them. On the inside though I’m screaming, “YES! Wear them! Own them! Be that person! Be you!”
I do not know who I am. All superheroes start off confused, alone, and scared. Then something happens. They grasp some type of power that opens the doors of opportunity–opportunity to help, to be a companion, to teach, to learn, to love, to be a hero.
When I grasped a hoop for the first time I never realized I would be taken on an adventure, or meet wonderful people. I never thought I could be a teacher but hooping has made that possible. I have not only learned to smile I have also taught others to smile. All by using a hoop.
I have learned all these things here on Earth, and it would be amazing to travel to other worlds to see if they are in need of some hooping heroes? I think I would love to pull on some galaxy leggings and become RoBat: The Super Hooper, and use hoops to create portals into other worlds to share, teach, learn, and love by changing pants and handing out hoops.
Rhonda Bangert
August 16, 2013 -
If I won an awesome pair of leggings I’d wear them to my high school reunion and show them who gives a shit about the fashion police. I was a new student in the 9th grade I wore my P.E. clothes over my sweatpants because I was cold. Or maybe I was trying to cover more of myself up, I don’t remember, but I needed the extra points for “dressing out” and I wanted to wear those sweatpants. The year went on and I made some friends. Years later they told me when I was new they joked about my P.E. clothes and why the hell did I wear shorts over pants? Of course, I’m completely over it. I’m not sitting here 18 years later writing about it while our dinner burns. So there you go. I’ll fractal in my leggings and write poetry for your blog. I’ll finish learning the Isolation Orbit Barrel Roll, which I’ve almost nailed. Mostly screwed.
Peace out Sista!
Rhonda from NC
cheralynne
August 18, 2013 -
Tightanium….the titanium tight temptress with titanium temptation strength. With her tremendous tights she can bedazzle anyone who beholds her bodacious booty. Butt beware…beholding Tightanium’s booty and luxurious legs will deliver the inevitable titanium temptation tickle. Once tickled, no one can resist Tightanium’s charms. Her wish is your command.
Cookie
August 18, 2013 -
As I embarked on one of my daily flights over my village, which most local citizens are accustomed to seeing; a dark-skinned dame with her trusted crime-fighting wiener dog, Tempeh, using hoop propulsion to bend time and space and combat wilderness picnic infractions in the surrounding mountains, I realized that the villagers were waving their arms frantically at me, gesturing for me to come down to the earth’s surface. Some also appeared to be in a panic and were running in all directions on this day, with terrified expressions on their faces! Is there some emergency?? Did some immanent threat go unnoticed by my dog and myself? I looked down at Tempeh, my closest ally and friend, his long ears floating in the morning breeze. and suddenly noticed his shiny spandex wiener hero outfit looked vaguely familiar….I thought, “Hmmm….I recognize that metallic foil Christmas Wreath pattern!”
In a whirlwind I realized that, indeed, after all these years, my dog had been stealing my leggings and cutting them into tubes, just long enough for a wiener and possibly a hood attachment, kind of “Warrior Within” style, with strategically placed holes for the legs and other appendages, and that I was now in fact pant-less, making it impossible for me to comfort my citizens when they forgot the bio-degrable cutlery and have to eat their wilderness picnic with their bare hands. Not a good moment to appear for the purpose of assistance and then not be wearing pants. The two just don’t go together. I implore you , Revolva, to help me by setting me up with some spandex pants, and if I may request, with an extra small tube of fabric for my wiener dog. He prefers galaxy over sequin and we don’t have to match. Then, I can return to my duties as….WILDERNESS PICNIC HOOP WOMAN, and my crumb-sniffing wiener dog, Tempeh, can cease from anymore illegal closet activities in the wee hours.