This Sh*t Is Bananas
Defending my creative legacy against drag queen copy cats and the usual internet trolls.
Howdy Kumquats
As ya’ll know, I enjoy astrology and noticing how events play out in my life that correspond to the energy of the planets.
This past Sunday, I woke up to a video a drag queen wearing a knock off of one of my signature acts. This drag queen actually won the most recent RuPaul’s Drag Race, which is a competition to find the “next drag superstar.” This show is in its 16th (?) season and fell off my radar around season 5. This particular queen was wearing a clear copy of a dress that took me 2 years to complete with a designer from Seattle. There were may details about the construction of the dress that told me it was a copy of mine because there were not any peeling banana gowns for me to copy off of, and so we used trial and error to refine how the peels came off, how the dress stayed on and how the peels bounced around my waist.
I really wasn’t surprised. To be honest, my opinion of drag queens has gone down over the years. My favorite queens used to be sharp, hilarious, bouffon clowns whom I adored for their bravery. But now, I know fewer drag queens to be actual artists and more of them to be ladder-climbing opportunists, just like in the burlesque scene, just like the yoga scene, just like the entire entertainment industry… just like everywhere in this upside-down world we live in.
My creativity is my Divinity and no one is going to defend me for me. I know that from experience. So, I posted a short statement about my disapproval on Instagram with a side by side photo of the incident.
My Instagram algorithm has been keeping my page very quiet since being canceled in 2017 (and then again in 2020), for speaking out about the faux-woke trolls in the burlesque scene and their ritualized cruelty. To me, people are people. And some of them are jerks, which these particular people were being. Yes, I dared to stand up to people of color who were being jerks. And boy, they did not like that. Equality on their terms is a one way street.
My life was ruined for it, in fact. Resulting in me having to move several times, losing my entire career and reputation, losing friends, losing my whole creative community, and having to endure ridiculous poverty trying to rebuild my life over several different times…not to mention the continual slandering of my name for 7 years now.
I wish I was exaggerating.
Even in a remote mountain town in the Sierra foothills of Northern California, the burlesque mean girls took up the call to arms against “a racist colonizer who defends rapists” like me and made sure that no one would book me in their shows. I guess I’m pretty used to being hated at this point.
And yet, why do make these public posts?
Well…how many times can I turn my cheek and suck it up before it takes a physical toll on my health? It turns into a rock in my gut. You can only swallow so many bitter pills. Posting my opinion about the blatant plagiarism didn’t really ruffle me like it has in the past— I felt quite neutral about it. It was just another shit thing that happened in a world of shit things happening.
As soon as I posted though, my phone dinged with an alert from an astrology app which said— THE SUN IS SQUARING PLUTO. That notification actually did alert me to the fact I had opened up a shit storm again.
THE SUN IS SQUARING PLUTO meant that the light was shining on stuff the underworld does not want to have seen— a square is an opposition. Pluto is the ruler of the underworld, and one of the co-ruling planets (along with Mars) of my sun sign, Scorpio. Being a Scorpio, I’m not afraid of the underworld / underground. I use my Divine light IN the underworld and that’s always been my jam. I understand the cycles of life innately and am not afraid of death—mental, spiritual, physical or metaphorical ego death— because I believe our souls have been / will be in many bodies.
Scorpios are the private investigators of the zodiac too, we demand the truth. If you lie to yourself, you’re lying to me. We cannot build a foundation for anything real or lasting if it’s not based on the truth and based on love without conditions. You can’t be secretly trying to get money, power or fame out of the creation. This is my beef with the cultural confusion over influencers too, who are not artists, yet occupy the role in the collective imagination.
I do things from the heart, because that is how lasting things are made. My creativity IS my channel to the Divine. When I decided to become a performer, after graduating with a bachelor’s degree in painting, it was because I wanted to directly impact people and the culture. All my education had showed me was that if I wanted to use my creative power to change the world, the art had to come off the wall and be embodied.
My first job after college was at an after school program where I taught mural painting, gardening and circus to 3rd and 4th graders who lived in the neighborhood surrounding the Baltimore City Prison. I was there 7-8 years. During that time, my side hustle was my greatest love— a non-profit performance troupe I founded that staged water ballets and rollerskating in public parks in challenged neighborhoods, using community performers.
That non-profit is still alive today because I was trained in how to create an institution strong enough to survive the loss of its founder. It was hard on my ego to leave my creative baby behind and continue on to circus school, then to move to NY and dedicate the next decade to refining my own performing craft. But my art has a life of its own and I try to be a good parent— giving it room to have its own identity.
I do realize that it may seem like a vain detour, for someone who genuinely wanted to make the world a better place, to spend so much time in burlesque—seeing as how it is part of the direct lineage of stripping— which is technically considered sex work. However, back when I got involved in the fledgling burlesque scene, it felt like a radical, hilarious, ironic way to deliver the message of freedom and equality that all my studies in feminism / women’s studies instilled in me. It felt like the most radical thing in the world, at the time.
It was funny to flaunt female sexuality so brazenly. The actual historical burlesque art form did eventually evolve into modern stripping. Even by the burlesque legends’ own account, burlesque was ruined by full nudity becoming legal and the sexual revolution. But it didn’t sputter all the way out until about the 80s and then in the late 90s-early 00’s, there was a revival. It was a mix of strippers and art kids who were countercultural Gen-X types like me. I got into it in 2001.
Of course, I wanted sexual, economic and cultural equality. And I wanted in the funnest, easiest way possible. Combining sexuality and comedy is the best-tasting medicine I could ever dream up. It works! Which is why this became part of my life’s work as a performing artist.
Although my years in burlesque may have seemed vain on the outside, I assure you, this Scorpio was learning a lot about how to empower women and men (and the alphabets too), how the underground works for the light, how to open minds gently but permanently, how to cultivate wildness and freedom of expression and how to inspire regular people to take the risk of being themselves— whether you were in the audience or backstage. It changed people. I was proving a point about authenticity, personal freedom and the power of creativity every time I stepped my high heeled foot onto a stage.
After winning the Best Duet competition at Burlesque Hall of Fame, I turned to applying myself in the female soloist category— which was the top prize. It was very competitive— hundreds of applicants from all over the world and only about 14 spots in the competition. The pageant was the brain child of Dixie Evans, who used it as a way to financially rescue the Exotic World Museum (located in a goat ranch in the desert) which once belonged to her best friend who had passed away from cancer, Jennie Lee. The entire organization was moved to Las Vegas and separated from Dixie in a way that is hard to explain, but never felt right. I don’t think she died happy about what happened to Exotic World.
After working at the after school program and my community performance troupe for so long in Baltimore, I had acquired a lot of training and experience in non-profit management and community organizing. I got involved in the Burlesque Hall of Fame (BHOF) behind the scenes too. I did about a year’s worth of non-profit consulting work for them. I spear headed the formation of an advisory council to oversee the volunteer arm of the organization, which is how most things for the competition and museum got done, by unpaid people. This included drafting and approving by-laws, establishing committees, identifying the scope of responsibilities for each committee, etc. I was also working to open up more performing opportunities for emcees, because many production decisions seemed to run on nepotism.
Even before this time, it came to my attention that the ballot that was being used to judge the competition was based on a beauty pageant ballot. I assumed this was a hold over from Dixie’s day. I knew the old timers were very harsh about physical beauty and standards of perfection. I came to find out that the ballot issue was under the control of a former stripper who ran a burlesque school, who didn’t have any problem with the criteria— it took some work to plead my case. As an artist, the ballot completely offended me. If they were going to score us on inane topics such as— entrance, gowns, how we walk— they could certainly take a minute to value the epic creativity that goes into these things.
I lobbied hard to have CREATIVITY added to the competition ballot and I was successful.
After doing a year’s worth of consulting work for BHOF, I went on leave for my wedding. When I returned, I discovered that the male director of the organization had dismantled most of what we had done— he even changed the bylaws without a vote by the board or advisory committee. Having a vote to make changes was central to the way the bylaws were set up and had to be approved by a quorum of members. But he changed whatever he felt like changing, including forbidding the president of the advisory committee (my position) from having any say about the competition. When in actuality, making the competition more fair and more community oriented was the only reason I got involved. But he did whatever he felt like and most of his opposition had quit by that point, so no one remembered or cared.
This was seriously unethical in my mind. But I realized there was no point in me trying to do anything. I gave up and got out. The organization had been co-opted by a man and his mid-level minions. It was a waste of my time to try anymore and I left.
Even back then I was tired of how male producers ran things. When female sexuality is being sold for tickets, it just never sat right with me to have men brokering the deals. Women put on a much more body positive show, whereas men typically like to see young naked girls…in my experience. I’m not dissing anyone in particular, I’m just sharing an aggregate of my 23 years in burlesque.
When I resigned, the director told me I should focus on winning Miss Exotic World instead. As if a woman had no place in the running of an organization FOR female striptease performers.
Well, I took that advice. And on the fifth try, I actually won the damn thing. It took me 2 years to execute the idea. Let me highlight a very important point before telling the story about this costume:
Sexuality and comedy is my medicine.
It’s GREAT tasting medicine. People don’t even realize they are taking actual medicine with my work. But they are. I pay attention to how my performances land with people, I ASK their opinions afterwards. I study the effect of my art on people and I know that it works. I have seen closed-minded people make tiny exceptions in their logic that opens up a door way to huge expansion. My art creates more freedom, it empowers people to be themselves, to take risks, to be ridiculous— to live a bigger, more authentic version of themselves— because they see me doing it. And yes, that is my spiritual mission from God. And yes, I do believe that when people are bravely their most authentic self— it makes a better world. I EMBODY what I want to see in the world and I live it.
The act that I won this very-hard-to-get title with, was called Banana Peel. I had the idea for a gown that peels like a banana after I saw a vintage Chiquita banana poster showing a naked woman coming out of a banana peel. Although there was no dress, I translated what I was inspired by in a photograph into an idea for a burlesque stage performance— I translated it for the stage. When I had the idea— I had one of those DOH! moments with it, because I couldn’t believe I didn’t have the idea ages ago.
Back then, I had married a man who played a comedic monkey in my life and onstage for 14 years. I was knee deep in banana songs, vintage Chiquita Banana advertising memorabilia, banana knick knacks of all kinds, and way more. I was well acquainted with the banana work of Carmen Miranda, Josephine Baker and Busby Berkeley’s movies. Over the years we had had a few normal banana costumes that you can buy at Halloween. And of course, the actual fruit (a banana) was Monkey’s main prop on stage.
Bananas are funny. They have a history of being funny and of being associated with monkeys.
So, we were well aware of a very wide range of banana gags, sketches, acts, dances, games, jokes…if it had a banana in it, chances are we knew about it. We knew of many comedians who used banana in their acts and somehow, none of us used each other’s material. There was always enough banana to go around.
So, when I finally had the peeling gown idea, a decade into our career, I could not believe it had not come to me before. Even though I’m an artist, I’m not the best seamstress, which means I do hire professional costumers to make the final versions of my ideas. Usually I only work with designers AFTER I have road-tested a 1.0 version of the act. I don’t want to involve a designer until I know the act “has legs”— that it’s something I know that I want to invest in.
So, I set to work on the 1.0 version, buying up all the yellow things I could find. I found a yellow satin floor length Betsey Johnson dress at a thrift store (what a great find— thanks, Angels!). I sewed in a couple of long zippers to approximate a peel. The dress fabric didn’t have enough weight to it and the peels sort of just flopped rather than peeled. Not very sexy, but I kept working with it.
I bought a yellow feather boa. Having gone to circus school, I approached working with the boa the way circus people work with all of their props. They do EVERYTHING that can be humanly done with their prop. They explore it as if it were a partner. If there is something clever that can be found, this is how you find it— you put in hours of time playing with it. I did hours upon hours of work rolling around on the floor with a boa, making the room look like someone had plucked a chicken to come up with a small handful of shapes that I had never seen anyone do before. (Side note— during this time, I used to post videos of my rehearsals back then until a younger performer started showing up to gigs doing the moves that I had been working on. So, none of this posers-stealing-stuff is new.)
The song I chose was a very raunchy electric blues song by Andre Williams called “Let Me Stick It In.” I chose this song because there wasn’t a sexy banana song to be found— they were all kind of funny. Nothing with “peel” in it either— “Peel Me A Grape” was not the empowered female powerhouse energy I wanted to present. But “Let Me Stick It In” was the perfectly filthy, funny heavy hitter. I used to love doing some of the lower paying bar gigs in NYC, because they gave me a low-stakes way to work out my ideas for new acts.
It was at this stage of the act’s evolution that I had the idea for a peeling finger for a glove. I made the prototype myself. I dyed white satin gloves the same yellow as my dress. I stitched in a finger from another glove and figured out how to peel it with thinly sliced strips of velcro. I found a yellow bathing suit and made it look like underwear and covered it in rhinestones. I made pasties with tiny bananas on swivels.
I remember attending the BHOF competition that year and seeing Lily Verlaine’s star-gazer lily costume onstage. It had this unfurling effect as it opened that made me immediately know who I should ask to design Banana Peel 2.0 with me. His name is Danial Webster and he had been doing stunning work in the burlesque and drag scene in the Pacific Northwest for years. I only work with other artists, my costumes are truly a collaboration. That’s why I don’t mind paying them at all. They bring their own ideas and show me different ways to execute my ideas— it’s a collaboration. I took Danial out to dinner when I won, he was such a big part of my success.
I want to interject at this point, in case some of the readers might be thinking that is the same as me stealing an idea from someone else. I admired the construction of her dress technically and believed that would work for my idea. The technical construction is the creative contribution of a good costume designer, it’s not the performers’ intellectual property. Lily’s lily looks nothing like my banana. This is the way it should be for professional artists— you may be inspired by someone else, but when you develop it in your own way, you make the inspiration your own to such an extent— the original artist shouldn’t even recognize their own influence. It’s transformed into something different.
Anyway. Danial lived in Seattle and I lived in NY. So, Danial agreed to make the dress and underthings as long as there wasn’t a deadline. With sending it back and forth in the mail and having to wait months for in-person fittings, it was just going to take however long it needed to. I told him my idea, he made sketches and sent me a shopping list. I went to the Garment District in NYC and found the tart lemon stretch velvet that would be the peel and the rhinestone fabric for the inside bodice and shipped them to Seattle.
We arranged to have a couple fittings that year at Burly-Con, a conference we were both attending. We met in his hotel room and he pinned the rudimentary structure of the peels onto my body. We talked about all the different options for fastening the peels to the bodice— zippers, snaps, boning and sheath— and settled on velcro. Which has already been working for parts of the 1.0 costume. I don’t usually like velcro because it destroys sequin fabric and fishnet stocking which are like $30-40. So, we made sure that velcro didn’t snag on any of our fabric choices— and I didn’t need to wear fishnet stockings. We were clear!
Then we figured out the height and placement of the peels to achieve maximum theatricality when they opened. I played with the movement a bit— the side to side sway and the up and down bounce. Danial knew all the best materials to use to make it really durable and work consistently over time too. Costumes take a beating— they need to be build to last.
We met for one more fitting at the end of the week and then about a month later, he mailed the dress to me in NY. It was still rough around the edges, but it was intact enough for me to test-drive it for a month of shows in Australia. My Banana Peel act was in the first touring show Monkey and I took to Australia. The act still had the boa in it then. Eventually, I would realize the dress was so incredible, it needed to be seen longer and that the boa tricks were so good, they deserved their own act— so I separated them into 2 acts.
*****A funny side story about that tour was that we were performing at the Harvest Music Festival in their cabaret tent— and the tech people were not the best. This was the first weekend of the tour and there was some problem with the music during my act— then after I had already taken my bra off, the sound guy restarted the whole entire 6 minute track from the beginning. So, I basically had to improvise an entire act with just my pasties, g-string and that boa. I made up a lot of new moves that day. LOL.******
When I returned from the tour, I sent the dress back to Danial with some notes. After trying a few different methods, we settled on the best way to cinch all the peels together at the neck— just a ribbon choker with a snap. Super simple. I also had ideas of how to make the bra and underwear have “peeling effects.” He made those quickly. I hired other people to make a new pair of gloves with the same dress fabric. I hired a professional beadazzler-lady to rhinestone all of the underthings when I got them from Danial. And I hired a choreographer friend to help me make the best choices from of all the different things I’d been trying out with the act.
It took 2 years to refine the act and costume, and to raise it to competition level.
By the time I took the stage to compete, I knew this act inside and out. And I came to win. I was not fucking around. This was my fifth time competing.
And maybe I had a little bit of a chip on my shoulder. Maybe I resented being “put in my place” by the director of the organization. Maybe I resented how conformist the burlesque scene had become. Maybe I resented how people sold out and “monetized” something I loved. Maybe I resented the fact that a radical sexual explosion of female creativity had turned into a gown-and-glove competition. And maybe I resented that most of the ballot was still based on a beauty pageant, when it was supposed to be a rebellion against rigid beauty standards, in the first place.
Also, I was 40. I never thought I would stop performing just because I got older, but the ageist crap that comes along with society’s glorification of youth and fake ass beauty double standards— infiltrates everywhere. People started treating me different when I turned 40. Even in burlesque. But I don’t subscribe to that sh*t. My back up plan for when my boobs got saggy was to just be a clown. Funny never gets old. I don’t think sex jokes and nudity do either, but ask me when I’m 100.
Anyway. I refuse to hang around people who think like that, because they will siphon your mojo faster than a speeding bullet.
So, the stakes were high for me. I did not think I’d be going back to BHOF again. I prepared accordingly.
I played within the unspoken rules of the burlesque world at that time— that you had to wear a gown to win. Usually I was always making characters— like a mermaid, a flea circus trainer or a Viking. This time I made a gown and glove act, but I did it without sacrificing any of my personality. It was funny, sexy, surprising, clever, and above all, creative. It represented me very well.
And I won. It felt good because I couldn’t have done a better job— I organically created an act that I loved and nurtured it over time to get it (and me) to a really high level. It was so satisfying to win, because it truly was my best. I don’t think I would’ve been able to say that all other years. But best of all, I feel like I proved to the world that the weirdos can win.
I work very hard and go way out of my way to do something new and innovative. Even when I do classic interpretations of numbers, I put a unique spin on them. It takes a long time. It’s harder than getting on the internet and assembling a Pinterest about it then ordering a bunch of crap off Amazon. I put in time and I wait for inspiration. Creative spirit moves through me and I try to catch it. I always believed that if I worked hard and put my whole heart into it, eventually my effort would be rewarded. Eventually it would strike a chord with people.
I can’t tell you how exhausting it is to do all this hard work and be where I’m at in my life. It has been hard to follow this path, but I married my art. It is not easy to have lazy knock-offs of your life’s work paying someone else’s bills. Not to mention the fact that back in the day, when the burlesque scene was popping, I was part of several conversations with reality show producers about doing a series on burlesque, but the networks wouldn’t touch it because of the female sexuality and nudity involved. WAY too titilating.
The drag scene back then was a mess, but with Ru Paul’s Drag Race, they got it together and leap frogged over burlesque. They got tours, their own big shows and many bought houses. I clapped along and cheered for my drag friends who got on the show. Many are great performers, with or without drag. They could be in a gown or a trash bag and they’d still be just as talented. But at season 16, it really appears as if they are running out of fresh talent.
This kind of imitation is lazy and unprofessional. You do not make a professional career by doing anything like anyone else— you can’t fake it. Yes, SOMETIMES the same idea bubbles up organically. That would assume that the person’s intuition is strong and they don’t fish for low hanging fruit from the internet. I don’t buy it. Because I know exactly how much work it’s taken me to hear my intuition at all and channel my creativity. And I know how hard I work to be unique and true to myself. Any self respecting artist would not knock off anyone else.
But I get it. The drag queens have to come up with 14-15 different full looks for the show. That’s a lot of spandex. It’s hard to pull off. But that doesn’t make it ok for a performer to nick ideas off another living, struggling artist. Aren’t we all underground counter-cultural performers? It’s bad enough that drag queens co-opted glamour to the point that people now ask me, when I wear stage makeup, if I’m a man. I’m tired of it. I want my career back. Please and thank you.
Sadly, about 5 different burlesque performers wrote to me stating their acts had been stolen by Drag Race also.
And the throngs of trolls came out of the wood work— because I’m “a racist colonizer trans-phobe” (the drag queen is Asian) that is claiming to “own bananas” which are the fruit of oppressed people and now my entire “brand” is being a racist colonizer. I mean…are we done with the woke-jokers yet? If their policing and public shaming rituals actually worked, wouldn’t we be living a just and peaceful world by now? This crap has not made the world better, but worse. The psycho feminists lost the plot, which was about equality. This crap has bludgeoned enough people into shameful silence. It has to stop. But I can’t do it alone.
EVERYONE has to find their back bone. Bullies will always exist. Stop standing by and letting them get away with this nonsense. The culture is a mess. But we know about Prince and David Bowie. Artists are complex and show us new ways of being. That’s what an artist's job is in society.
We (you, me, everyone) MUST protect what is real and precious right now.
What is precious needs protection.
Artists and their work needs to be distinguished from AI garbage, from influencers, from posers of all kinds. We know too much. We have to demand better and defend it.
I can’t say this enough— culture is the soil our consciousness grows in.
It is essential for humanity to reconnect to our intuition, to the planet and to Source. We have been cut off from ourselves, but artists know the way back. The music, shows, movies, books, etc make up the culture. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are no real revolutionaries in the culture anymore. There are posers, opportunists and phonies who sold out. Culture needs to be wild and free. It must be made from the heart. Not to make a quick buck or to achieve fame.
Do you think it’s good for my reputation to call this crap out publicly?
No. It’s not.
Do you think this is fun?
No. It’s not.
But I hear the angry ancestors yelling at me— they say that I’m the only one who CAN do anything about it because I’m in a body and can see the problem. They don’t let me off the hook. That’s one down side of waking up your intuiton— you get a little bit psychic— and when the Spirit world knows you know, you are obligated to take action. I’m in service to Spirit. I can’t get away with ignoring my gut anymore.
And that was what I saw in my recent ayahuasca ceremony too— that the world is not going to be turning into a happy-go-lucky place anytime soon. The demons have too much control and we have to get it back. We don’t get it back by ignoring things, sticking our head in the sand or tolerating bullsh*t. We get it back by standing in our power and defending it with integrity.
There is a fierceness that comes with spiritual maturity. On my ayahuasca journey, it was showed up as a “f*ck around and find out” way of walking in the world. When I was more spiritually immature, I used to believe we’d get to some friction-less place of bliss and endless flowers. Now I understand that our souls incarnate here to experience the flowers dying as much as them growing back. Our souls came here for the complexity and contradiction that is life on earth— it takes effort to bring the light to the darkness. It’s the work we incarnate for. I’m here for it. I’ve been a spiritual warrior out here on the frontier for a long time.
Do you have any idea how much more fun the world would be if I could get up on my f*cking feet and do my damn art? I still have not recovered the material losses from being cancelled. It’s no exaggeration to say that burlesque ruined my life. But I’m a fighter, so I’m still out here— and I always will be. But I am tired, ya’ll. I need some more folks in the out field. And I need the infield to look alive.
Many times I have sounded the alarm about how sick this culture is— alerting those who with eyes to see and ears to hear— that the culture is polluted. It’s completely toxic. If you want culture back, it starts with each of us individually fighting these battles on your own turf, in your own way. Stop looking away, stop ignoring the problem, step into maturity.
Do not let the bullies control the playground. Know the difference and stop settling for crap art, music, movies, all of it. If everyone goes along with this nonsense, it turns the world into a dark place. We’ve been living through it. Aren’t you tired of it yet? Find your back bone. Find your power. Listen to your gut and lead with your heart. Embodying unconditional love does not mean being a doormat. It means practicing tough love with the immature souls who are stuck in a mind loop of negativity.
I do not wish harm on this performer. I haven’t even named her anywhere. I’m sure it was simple laziness. I don’t even believe she knows my name, but I do believe she found a picture of me on the internet. I have no doubt she felt excruciating pressure to come up with that many costumes for the show too. Hell, I wish I had a TV show to show my costumes on.
But alas, it’s still easier to be a man in a dress than to be a woman in this world.
I don’t enjoy playing wack-a-mole with haters. I spent many years shamed into silence. I’m not foolish enough to think that I’ve done much to change jack sh*t besides ruin my reputation even further. But I’ve sent a cease and desist, for what it’s worth. If the trolls rake me over the coals and drag my name through the mud more on this topic, so be it. Their days are numbered.
My creativity is my spirituality and no one will defend my creative legacy but me. I wish I didn’t feel so passionately about this, but I do.
I’m sharing this to empower you to demand what is real in your own life.
Do not suffer fools.
Don’t be afraid either.
This cultural reign of terror is over.
Make it so.
Thanks for reading.
Love, Trixie
PS I had a few more insights about how this all mirrored the astrology, but I got up on that my soap box defending my creative work….and that was that. But Mercury Rx and that Scorpio full moon was in the mix too.
PPS Here’s my Banana Peel act…
P.S. Your banana peel act was SO GOOD! SO SEXY! wow, just wow I loved how literally everything peeled haha..... the person who stole this from you will NEVER be able to pull it off like you did
I'm proud of you for defending yourself. You're not alone in this fight