Friday, June 18th:

"We Do It All For You" Day

It sounded like a good idea in email

By Sister Paula

(continued from Build Your Own Goddamn Burrito...)

....As the day dawned over Beaver Village, Festers awoke to the disturbing realization that they had slumbered for a few hours without eating. Being well-trained in the OBSSE way of noshing at frequent if not constant intervals, they made their way to the common room. Alas, they were met by locked doors, for inside the elders et. al were busily preparing...The Elders' Pancake Breakfast.

What should have been a normal, wholesome, American celebration had become a mutated, twisted, Rocky Horror Picture Show sort of pancake production. For the elders and those kind enough to be associated with them on that day (Nanchita, Glasses, Squat, Jez, NancyFF, Gen, and Lauren), had decided to dress for the occasion. How we decided to adorn ourselves in black hairnets and aprons that "depicted our online personas" is a hazy recollection best left forgotten.

Yum, I love my pancakes! Meanwhile, outside the common room, a revolution was taking place - led, no doubt, by Sister Janelle. Chanting and stomping of feet was heard, and we feared they would storm the doors with the lobby sofa. Inside, we struggled to see against the glare of La..'s streamers, while wondering if an international event would occur when Autumn suggested warming Gen's Canadian maple syrup in a crock pot, causing Gen's right eye to twitch in suppressed indignation. The atmosphere was a little tense, and no one laughed when I said, "this all sounded good in email."

Finally, Jez, with southern hospitality, opened the doors and breakfast was served, although there was a delay in pancake production. Thank goodness the Rogue Kitchen Crew was on hand to save the day. And Lensie, in her darling French maid apron, had the wits to serve up trays of sliced bananas topped lovingly with whipped cream and work the room with, "lard 'ouevres?" And so we ate and were satisfied. For a while.
(...Continued in "Rome on the Range", lower)

See Ann write off her trip

Cover Girls (and One Guy) In the Rockies

By Ann the Fan Dancer

It all started with a simple request -- would anyone be interested in having an Arcadia GreenMask!Scully facial so I can write off Fest as a business trip? Little did I know that I was soon to go where no Mary Kay consultant had gone before.

I arrived at Fest with all my supplies in hand -- all except my sign up sheets which were sitting on my computer desk at home. Not to worry, I thought to myself. I'll just make a general announcement with the times of the facials and make overs and see who shows up.

I expected six to eight people at the first session. I got eleven. Being the cooperative group that we are, I knew that sharing mirrors wouldn't be a problem. I also had a minion, Sister Catlike (a.k.a. Lynne) to whom I could assign the less glamorous tasks of warming up washcloths and squirting tubes of various skin care products. Just one problem -- the front desk across the street had closed early for lunch, and we had no washcloths. OK, paper towels would have to do.

So, after I determined everyone's proper foundation shade (well, everyone except Brother Ian) and Lynne treated everyone to Satin Hands, we began the skin care class. We cleansed, we put on green masks, we took pictures. Lots of pictures, lots and lots of pictures. We attempted to remove masks with wet paper towels. I learned that wet paper towels don't work nearly as well as washcloths. Eventually, we freshened, we moisturized, we protected our skin (with foundation or sunscreen), and we applied some powder, blush, and lipstick (except, of course, Brother Ian who didn't like the colors I picked for him). Approximately two hours later, ten sisters and one brother walked away with glowing skin, worthy of TBO herself.

Since we were running a little late, the next group was already there. I sent my roommate Charlotte to try to get some washcloths. She came back with a huge bag of them. She explained that the nitwit at the front desk had told her she couldn't give her washcloths so Charlotte went straight to the manager, screamed, "There's no time!" and got the washcloths immediately. TBO would be so proud.

The next session had a more intimate group of five sisters and one brother. Sassejenn volunteered to be my minion for this session since she was well versed in the ways of Mary Kay (which, although they may be pink, are not, I repeat, not prancy). I talked everyone through their facials as before, and, of course, a lot of pictures were taken as we imitated the glory of GreenMask!Scully.

During a short break, I transformed myself into as close a resemblance to Scully as this Annette Benning look-alike could manage. I then instructed a large group of sisters in the proper techniques for attaining a Scully color make over with Glasses' beautiful poster serving as our inspiration. A few sisters even streaked their hair with lovely Scully "Copper Penny" highlights.

After our wonderful dinner at Rome on the Range, I returned to Beaver Village for the last session of facials with the SPI's. Thank heavens Charlotte agreed to be my minion for this last session because no amount of training could have possibly prepared me for what I was about to experience. I walked in to find a room filled with singing, dancing SPI's. I think they were trying to imitate TBO in the bar scene of "Three of a Kind." Oh yes, Dr. Sarah was also there, sitting quietly in the corner, taking her little notes. Amidst this revelry, I attempted to teach the SPI's and Dr. Sarah the proper techniques for good skin care. It was like trying to herd cats. Amidst the frequent breaks to dance and sing along to someone's favorite song or pass out another round of drinks, we managed to make it through the facials. I knew that resistance was futile, so soon I was singing and dancing with them. I even joined in when we lifted our white shirts and flashed our black bras while someone snapped pictures. All the while, Dr. Sarah sat there with that little half smile of hers. I could just see the mental notes being filed away. If word of this gets back to my Mary Kay colleagues, I'm a dead woman.

I stumbled back to my room, exhausted. When I looked over the surveys, I realized that I had led 23 sisters and 2 brothers in GreenMask!Scully facials. I think that 25 people in one day is some kind of record (no, Lensie, don't go there). Not only was I able to legitimately write off Fest as a business trip, but I came home to receive much acclaim, recognition, and some nice jewelry for my accomplishment. I did, however, leave out the part about flashing my black bra during the SPI facials.

I'd like to say a big thank you to all those who participated in the GreenMask!Scully facials and make overs. I've never had so much fun "working" in my life.

Dinner at Rome on the Range

By Sister Paula

Where's my goddamn steak?
(...continued from Pancake Breakfast.)

The hours passed. Five of them. People were dropping from food deprivation and the tableau at Beaver Village resembled a scene from Flight of the Phoenix. It was a good thing Nanchita had planned dinner early at Rome on the Range, where we would be met by Sister Autumn's delightful family.

Rome on the Range is a charming, log-built establishment on the main street of Winter Park specializing in steaks and all-around good food. There was a large room to accommodate all of us, as well as pool tables upstairs, adjacent bar, and more mounted animal heads than Bear Country Jamboree.

The wait staff was exceptional and attended everyone's needs with skill and humor. They did stop to ask a group of us at the Fashion Runway just exactly what we were doing. How does one explain a funny idea on a mailing list gone awry?
(...continued in Spaghetti Dinner, next page.)

The Piñata, or: Sister Vegan Puts the Smackdown on Jean-Claude Van Damn Bee

By Sister Mandy

Kill'em Allie! Poor Allie. Poor sweet, eternally tolerant Allie, who would rather brave glitter green galactica fruit roll than injure a fellow creature by eating it or milking it. As if all the lard jokes weren't enough, we make her smash the living dayights out of a harmless insect.

Well, okay, so it wasn't harmless. As soon as Autumn and Nanchita called us all out onto Rome on the Range's back porch to see what they'd been rigging up for the past twenty minutes, we knew that this was no ordinary insect; no, this was Jean Claude Van Damn Bee himself, that troublemaker from FTF. How Autumn managed to spirit him out of the evidence vial on Cassidy's desk and all the way to Colorado is a mystery to me. Truly her powers amaze me. (He did seem a bit larger than I remembered; it must have been the altitude.) The intention was clear - revenge ourselves upon the plot device. And upon whom should the Elders call to strike the first blow other than our friendly neighborhood vegan? Allie donned the blindfold and proceeded to thwhack the bee with such fervor that one might think she held it responsible for all the lard jokes. One solid swipe knocked him to the deck, at which point the elders called on Bryn to finish him off.

After everybody's favorite filkstress finished demolishing the pathetic hull, there were tootsie rolls for all, to tide us over until the meal was served half an hour later. After all, most of hadn't eaten since three or four in the afternoon, and we were pretty hungry.

The Plastic Incarnation Explores Her Closet

By Sisters La..Dee..Da.. and Paula

The event was fabulous, the attendance A-list, and the atmosphere charged with style and stamina for the First Annual Frank's Fashion Contest for Scully Action Figures and That Guy Who is Her Partner. Flying in for the occasion from Los Angeles and New York were fashion consultants Sister La..Dee..Da.. and Sister Paula R. Mingling among the glitterati and assisting in judging accessories was Colin Klein of the House of Couture, and lending her peerless expertise for Really Really Petite Clothing was the inimitable Sister Lens of Fashion.

The competition was fierce and the runway was crowded with the most edge-cutting fashion trends seen since ...well... any '80s Madonna video and/or an episode of Fawlty Towers.

PAULA: Maybe I'm just exhausted from the soiree in Milan, La..Dee..Da.., but making a decision in Winter Park was so difficult. Was it the altitude, or the lack of Evian?

LA..DEE..DA..: Paula, I have to say it was definitely the abundance of lard.

PAULA: Oh that was it. Ok, before we discuss the winner and the runners-up, I MUST say something about the Prada gown. That was no Prada gown. That was a knock-off from Lauren and she did the same thing in Paris last spring. The kleenex sarong was clearly K-mart paper toweling and the cut was all wrong.

LA..DEE..DA..: Kind of makes you wonder what the tiara's really made of doesn't it? I'm thinking paper maché and a can of silver spray paint.

PAULA: Exactly. I really did have higher hopes for Lauren's entry. Gumby might wear the kleenex sarong for sleepwear, but this was Scully and the look just didn't work for her. Tell me what you thought was the strength of 2nd runner up Ms. Goat's entry? Was it the outfit or the accessories?

LA..DEE..DA..: Well, as fetching as Scully is in a labcoat -- yes, this is one time when white as the main color actually works -- I have to say the accessories are what made this ensemble a winner. Who can resist "Autopsied!Fowley complete with Y-incision"?

PAULA: No one! And Ms. Goat remembered the signature lobotomy scar. Now, I know you had a soft spot for the NYC!Scully - a fabulous, strong entry. I loved the black patent leather jacket of course, but I know you just adored the shoes.

LA..DEE..DA..: YES!! The shoes! Stylish, yet EXTREMELY practical. Over-sized black slip-ons with chunky soles that not only said "I'll kick your ass" but actually kept this particular dollie.. er.. Plastic Incarnation standing when all the others went toppling over at the slightest nudge to the table.

PAULA: The shoes did make the outfit, I couldn't agree more.

LA..DEE..DA..: Paula, what did you think about the 1st Runner Up? Are the Sixties really passé or did the coolness of Scully actually make this outfit shagadelic?

PAULA: Absolutely! Again, it's the little details that count and the tiny fringe on those faded jeans and the matching vest with tie-dyed shirt are the things we look for. Detail with an eye to proportion.

LA..DEE..DA..: And the thumb ring! Loved the thumb ring!

PAULA: Oh I did too. And for the grand prize winner, did Scully work that bow in her hair or was I just having an '80s hallucination!? So retro!

LA..DEE..LA..: Well this one was certainly my personal favorite. Note the matching suede skirt and purse! Not only did Bryn give us (some would say too much) character insight into Young!Scully as Madonna wannabee ... but watching Sister Lens-of-Fashion having an 80's flashback, complete with her stunning rendition of "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" was the highlight of the evening for me.

PAULA: She *did* steal center stage. And - loved those white patent leather booties she wore.

LA..DEE..DA..: LOL! Now you're just being cruel.

And the winners were:

2nd Runner Up: Ms. Goat (Jen SPI) with Autopsy!Scully complete w/ DF corpse accessory.
Prize: a lovely bee.

1st Runner Up: Sassejenn with '60s Scully in denim and thumb ring.
Prize: a Barbie clothing set.

Grand Prize Winner: Bryn with '80s Young!Scully Madonna Wannabe.
Prize: the "Never Again" script. Because we never wanted to see Scully dressed like that again.

Saturday, June 19th: "Hooboy!" Day

What are those rafters hiding?

HEY! This is a Raft, not a Pool Floatie!

By ScullyFu

The rafters included the SPI contingency: Lesphile; Jen! (PukaGoat); Jodi; Jana; JanaD; Deb (ScullyFu); plus NaK (Dahlak), Flywoman, and Deborah (from Arizona).

We got to the rafting office at 8:15 a.m. and proceded to strip and squirm and stretch our way into our wetsuits. Of course, we had to add all the accessories ... splash jacket, helmet, booties and life vest. Once everyone was ready we piled into a bus and were whisked away for our white water adventure.

This was a Class 3-4 ride and the brochure clearly stated that prior paddling experience was required. So after much conferring among members who'd never been on a river, we decided it best to take the government position of "Don't ask, don't tell." They didn't ask and we didn't tell. But, hey, money talks and bs walks, right? Although I'm sure our inexperience was quite evident when they started showing us how to paddle... teehee.

Arriving at the river, we were given the obligatory "what to do if you fall out of the raft" speech. Oh yeah, like we really wanted to hear that! We were ready now to hit the river. But wait, first we had to be instructed on the finer arts of paddling and maneuvering inside the raft. Little things like what to do if you see a big rock coming your way, how to high-side the raft, if anyone gets struck by lightning, yadda, yadda, yadda. Enough talk already, we were ready for action!

Our ride was nothing short of fun. We paddled our stomach muscles off. We got drenched. We laughed hysterically at the ten foot drop. We ducked our heads when we approached the low bridge. We high-fived with our paddles when we successfully navigated a rough patch.

Two hours later, not to mention a cramped hamstring, ripped nail and frozen appendages, we pulled up to shore. Everyone survived. As our guide said after asking what we'd been doing while in Winter Park, "you can sleep when you're dead!" We decided to take it as our motto and creed for the rest of the trip.

Ride 'em Cowgirl Allie!

Back in the Saddle Again.

By Sister Sonya

Journal Entry, Scully Date 6/19/1999

It's the third day of FEST and what with the facials and drinking and videos and drinking and singing and drinking, what's a girl to do? Ah, that's right! How about a nice trip to the forest? On a horse.

The brochure painted an enticing picture, "Experience high country vistas, vibrant mountain streams and local wildlife including moose (and squirrel?), deer, elk and coyote." Being the naive individual that I am, I thought myself ready for the wondrous two hour trail ride. After all, I had been on a horse before and found that after an hour I wanted more, damn it! So, foolishly I agreed (along with Dr. Sarah) to be led up the mountain path.

Calling ahead of time, I was disappointed that the 10:30 booking was filled. As Dr. S pointed out, that would have given us plenty of time to soak in the jacuzzi before any of the afternoon activities were due to begin. Sadly, that was not to be. We had to settle for the 1:30 jaunt which would bring us back to base camp perilously close to the start of the Prance Off.

Armed with a carrot (ok, so Sarah remembered the carrot - geez) we made friends with our horses. Mine was Gumby and was not amused by the gesture. He spit the dang thing out. Luckily, he was aiming away from me. To make matters worse, the sky was threatening and all of the members of our party decided that taking rain gear along would be a good precautionary measure.

Our guide then proceeded to explain the intricacies of riding uphill and downhill. One does not simply sit on the horse, oh no. Paraphrasing: "When going uphill, lean forward on the saddle, since some of the inclines are pretty steep. This helps the horse to climb better. Conversely, when going downhill, lean back so that the horse has better footing on the way down."

Having been informed of the proper way to ride, we were then ready to tackle the great outdoors.

Here's a hint my fellow sibleren: Riding on a mountain is VERY different than riding on flat land. I was expecting a meandering ride through the country side. What I got was very grueling, in the most bizarre ways. Who knew that your horse would try to scrape you off its back as if you were nothing more than alien goo? Who knew that the trails were extremely narrow, with large drop offs - should your horse happen to slip? Who knew that despite the fact that I was wearing SPF 30 AND a hat, my face would be beet red after 2 hours in the muted sunlight?

Despite all of these trials, I can honestly say that the ride was panoramic. There were a few occasions where we stopped for the view. At one point, we could see the entire Fraser Valley (which is where Winter Park is located). I'd show you pictures with which to better illustrate but, well... I haven't gotten them developed yet. Local wildlife? I think I saw a bird - no, wait- that was in the parking lot...

All in all, a pleasant diversion. But next time I'll sign up for the one hour trek. My butt still hurts...

The Full Prancy

The Princess and the Prance Off

By Lauren

Let me state this for the record--prancing is BAD. We don't aspire to be prancy. We openly mock and ridicule those who prance in public, and barely tolerate those who prance for a) money or b) art. Before you read this recap of the prance-off, you may want to pray *really hard* that you don't try to emulate the contestants.

So, many prancers. Just one prize.
The prance-off began with a sassy little entry by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, in which they sashayed into the room, SNARKED at the members at large, then sashayed back out. Prancy indeed, (what do you expect, two of the SPIs were named Prancer of the Day during Fest) yet lacking in the shame and degradation which would win the title.

The Intergalactic Panel of Judges
The SPIs were followed by Jean Robinson, resplendent in sequins. She showed off her inner prancer by tap tap tapping her way through the groans of agony by the onlookers. I'm sure amongst those who enjoy that sort of thing she's very talented. However, I would not want to try and explain that outfit to the Blessed One. The judges, chosen for their inherent resistance to pranciness on all levels, gave her high marks indeed on the Marita scale.

Amanda, the next victim, took a commanding lead with her high-stepping rendition of RiverPrance. She sparkled and shone along with the Celtic music. While I'm sure the Blessed One's Irish Aunt Olive would have enjoyed the leaping, stomping, and hair curling, the members of the OBSSE slowly began to sob and claw at their eyes. Said Judge Not A Klingon, “(*&^$%$6”. The Mobile Mental Health Clinic

Ann the FanDancer showed us the reason for her name with a stunningly prancy a cappella performance. If you listened closely, you could almost *hear* the strains of "Joy to the World." Fanning the flames of Scullydom, indeed, but not *quite* prancy enough to make the members turn green. Dr. Sarah and NotDr. K were relieved, as the ProzTacs supply was running low.

The final entry was the much-anticipated, much dreaded Pranceapalooza. A group effort by the Sisters of Minnesota featuring Jean the Prance Machine, Formerly SassejennFF, and Flywoman, their entry consisted of a musical montage of the pranciest hits known to man, a tap number, and prancy background gyrations. The finale commenced with Beth being *stripped* down to a shimmery halter top by the prance-minions. Have you ever seen the Blessed One in a halter top? I didn't think so.
Is it any wonder that Pranceapalooza took the first prize sash and crown? The judges were in shock that so many of our brethren -- formerly rational, intelligent, self-assured women -- pranced not only willingly, but *willfully*. Poor Angie couldn't take it. Dr. S and NotDr. K had to force feed her Proztacs. I think she's still recovering in a hospital somewhere in Colorado. As for the winning members of Pranceapalooza -- Beth, Amanda, Leah, Sassejenn, Mindy, Chish, Jean, and Flywoman, fear not. They’re being deprogrammed by the good Drs. as we speak. And Sassejenn, formerly the Littlest FF, has been thrown out of the Ffamily for a good month for daring to prance in public.

Come to my room, Dearest Autumn
Thank heavens Sister Bryn performed her first-ever non-prancy live filk during the intermission. Wearing a blue dress, feather boa, and an exceptional 5th season Scully-do, Bryn performed a Scullyrific rendition of "Come to my room, Sister Autumn" to the tune of "Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina." Had she not intervened, I fear for the well-being of the Abbey. Of course, after her intervention, we all feared for the well-being of Sister Autumn, who looked about ready to overheat. But that’s another story altogether.

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