Oracle and Archivist of Temple of the Atomic Light

After Brahmin Burger exploded, and I was determined to still get back to the theme zone, I had to start from the ground up. As my third year there, I had a better idea of what people were using for structures, and I was trying to be mindful of my limited physical ability. I had gotten a bunch of shade netting (in black--big mistake, don't do this), and a mister, two very nice yeti coolers, two cots, (a basic kitchen set up), and some shepherd hooks. I collected beer bottles and glass jars of yogurt to make some light fixtures that felt Fallout-y. I frosted all of them to help with light diffusion (and tucked in coffee filters in the jars) and viola.

Photog: Thomas Kerns, and Unknown, but it was pre-event in the dome behind the Deez.

So while Brahmin Burger was making greasy splashes with hungover and drunk crowd, I actually spent the majority of the event being heat intolerant. As soon as the temperature climbed, I couldn't stay awake. I felt nauseated and was dehydrated every day. I don't remember doing any events or being active during the day. I tried making up for it at night, but Wasteland at night is a different beast from Wasteland at day, so I missed half the event. I did do the swimsuit contest, and it was my last time doing it because the magic was gone. I did not feel like a powerful, beautiful creature at all. My intent had been something inspired by Immortan Joe's wives, so I repurposed another bedsheet, some gauzy fabric, rope, and tried to go for something that was all natural fibers in appearance. I even stained my cover-up towel. In 2017, my little runway sashay was all about Fat Chance Belly Dance moves and poses. In 2018, I wanted to do a little strip tease with dropping my hair and flashing the audience. I lost one of the two hairsticks I bought for this gimmick and felt quite unappreciated for my efforts (not that I expected to place, but I guess how gross I felt came across to the audience and there were not as many cheers). There were also a lot less pictures that had me in them by chance, which did not help my feelings after the event.

Bartertown Photag: Doctor Something (I think, need to double check.)

So one night in 2017, as I hung out with my partner as he had shop duty, some very drunk people came on by and read the sign on our shopping cart that said something like "All meat treated with Rad-Away." Their response to it was asking if that was true/what they would have given for a greasy burger right then and there. And so, Brahmin Burger was born. We decided the following year we'd become food vendors. With my inheritance from my mom's passing and my partner's fast food experience/business acumen, we began to put together essentially a pop-up burger food stand. That included creating a whole new set up, getting some quite expensive equipment, and making a new shop stand (new, because we [read: my partner] decided to scrap all that wood we bought, yes, even our original wooden structure, to build it "better" the following year since it "broke" and was not worth the repair). (Plot twist: that did not happen.) Because my inheritance was going toward funding this venture, I didn't have a whole lot of vision for aesthetic other than, "I'm making a new sign and I want the stand to be more fallout like with swinging doors and chicken wire... and chalk paint!"

Photogs: Bane Grimm, Thomas Kerns, Mark Matcho, Gabriel Peltz

Photogs: quirky_mel, Geri Kramer, and unknown.

"Themed" placement (but no one else in the group understood this assignment so I don't consider it to be accurate) in Sanctuary Hills. Leader of the guard bestowed the name "Trespass" to me. Had an otherwise magical time and took no pictures. That's not true, I took pictures of people at the All Bodies Photo...booth? But not anything for camp or of myself. The general shop booth had one (1) picture taken.

So not only was this my first Wasteland World Inc. event, but it was Wasteland World's first ball. I know the vibe I was going with was some kind of radiation goddess. Thrifted a wedding dress, added panels to it to fit me better, and had zero knowledge/technique on how to distress things. I wanted to be pretty, but I wanted to also look like I waded through a bloodied war field. Execution was not great. I tried tea staining, didn't take well, I did not have high hopes for dying the synthetic so I used watered down acrylic to get the red in. I was very pleased with the head piece I made. I converted wooden dowels into hair sticks, tried to form air dry clay over them to look like bone, and embedded chains in the bone clay. Then I painted it ivory and clear coated it. It was heavy, and needs thicker hair or some sort of support for it, but I was so proud and pleased with it. I was actively and deep into my Fat Chance Belly Dance classes so I did a lot of "dance" poses that I thought looked dynamic and pretty. My partner at the time made a comment about it (a "why do you keep posing like that?" as if he wanted me to pose like a normal person next to him) and it got way under my skin. It still leaves a very bitter taste in my mouth. Honestly, we should never have gotten together. Currently, that dress is in a WWII military trunk, I had tried making it dirtier for Wasteland Weekend by literally smashing it into dirt, but real dirt is texture nightmare for me. A part of me wants to come back to this dress snd update it with the techniques I've since learned, but.... also it carries such bad memories? Even if I felt beautiful and loved my make up. Maybe we could find a mannequin and have it wear the dress at camp. That might be a good "funeral" for it.