Tuesday, Jan. 30, 2007 - 1:29 p.m.

decisions decisions . . .

I _still_ have not come up with a derby name.

I'm fond of "JungleBetti" and would have no problem using it as a derby name, except that would mean that my not-so-super-stealth-secret identity would be revealed to more people I actually know in person.

As to my online friends, I often wish I could invite you over for bad movies, sticker trading and drinkie-poos, or I could sit on your couch and pout when I'm having a bad day.

I'm not ashamed of anything about this blog, I'm likely to tell anyone just about anything they'd like to know about me, and yet, the idea of someone Googling my derby name and finding this doesn't sit very well with me.

blah blah I'm a slightly paranoid introvert blah blah I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings by what I've written blah blah what if some creepy dude stalks me, have I ever mentioned that I've been stalked before and it absolutely sucks beyond suckitude?

SO. a non-junglebetti name is called for.

excuse the ..'s I'm being stealth. ooooo.

B.i.t.c.h o.n W.h.e.e.l.s?
B.e.t.t.i. B.a.t.c.a.v.e?
Z.o.o.m.i.n' Z.u.u.l?
G.o.z.e.r the Destructor? (my favorite so far)

* * *
In non name-realted news, I'm returning back to my old haircut tonight. No more barette-bound nose-length bangs and golf-ball sized ponytails!!

Next time I talk about growing my hair out, someone puh-lease remind me that I have about as much hair as a toddler, and braids the size of crayola markers are not attractive in the least. In fact, someone should harass me into getting gutsy enough to cut even more hair off. Then tell me it's not my problem if people think I'm not married to a male. Ooooh, while you're at it, tell me to dye my hair some crazy color before I develop any more wrinkles.

See? this is me with long hair. Fine on a five-year-old, not attractive on an adult



Friday, Jan. 26, 2007 - 9:10 a.m.

still freaking busy (updated)

Someone explain to me why I agreed to a freelance project when I'm already hella-busy doing regular work?

Wish me luck, I'm going to harness the power of caffiene and try to zoom through as much as possible in the hopes that I _don't_ have to spend much time working with a computer this weekend.

***update*** 8:34pm
too much Excel spreadsheet make Betti go crazy
good news is that one project is done done done.
The extra freelance project has been drastically tamed, but I'll have to put in at least a few hours more before Monday morning. Hooray for extra money to pay for rollerskating equipment!!

Also, super hooray to some crazy guy from Texas who called to tell me that my knee and elbow pad order was overkill, apparently I was prepping for something far more drastic than derby injuries. He saved me over $80 that he just as easily could have profited due to my ignorance. If you or your loved ones are in need of high quality, custom-made athletic pads, visit Wild Bill's site and tell him "Giant Chicken" sent you.

Yeah, that invites a short tangent:
I haven't settled on a derby name yet, and "Giant Chicken" cracks me up, given that everyone else has intimidating/dirty/evil names. Wild Bill laughingly pointed out that there are some mighty large women derby skating, and I probably don't fit the "giant" criteria. Can you imagine a 6'4" 320lb woman on wheels slamming sideways into you on purpose? According to Wild Bill, she actually exists and lives out west.



Thursday, Jan. 25, 2007 - 8:31 a.m.

one tiny injury a week wouldn't be bad . . .

Greeting Elvis Wednesday fans - it's Thursday! And Elvis is no where to be found! Mayhem!

I'm hellishly busy at work, no time for cocktails.

But I've got to blah blah just a little bit:
Yesterday, last week's knee bruise officially faded, and I developed a tiny but nasty burst blister from my new/used rollerskates. I know I'm in for many possible/probable injuries (that are far more drastic), and so I should adopt a badass attitude about "my first roller-derby-girl-in-training" blister, but OUCH!



Tuesday, Jan. 23, 2007 - 9:23 a.m.

bizarroland part 2

2007 is shaping up to be interesting for many reasons, I'll continue to fling out them out for your amusement 'till I'm bored with this tangent.

I know very little about football, and _really_ don't give a crap about it. In fact, I find the sounds of a televised football game to be very very irritating. Why oh why do the announcers have to SHOUT and why do I care if the crowd is going wild? I'm sure the sound people are stuck in the 80s, I'm sure technology has improved so that the current auditory nightmare is not necessary . . .

My two favorite football teams are going to the Superbowl, and more importantly, the New England Patriots ARE NOT.

I probably won't watch the game, but I hope that the Indianapolis Colts win, because I think that the city of Indianapolis could use the attention and beneficial economic impact more than the city of Chicago.

Mr. Lee and I have discussed having a "Football Free Party" on Superbowl day. I'm going to be hella busy this month, so I probably will just stick to my regular Sunday routine, but I think it's a really good idea all the same.



Monday, Jan. 22, 2007 - 9:26 a.m.

bizarroland part 1

Mr. Hubby hasn't had a cigarette since Janurary 1st.
I'm so proud that on Saturday, I found myself telling my favorite bouncer about it. Then I felt a little dumb because I realized that my favorite bouncer has overcome much more drastic addictions and has been clean and sober for 30 years. Fortunately, FavoriteBouncer has witnessed many a foot-in-mouth event, he just smirked at me, and we went on to talk about music, custom guitars and the point of life for several hours.

Meanwhile, Mr. Lee (the birthday boy) sat at the bar and got smashed, since I wasn't there to help him drink his pitchers, or nag him to slow down. In fact, Mr. Lee swang by a few times to laugh at FavoriteBouncer for monopolizing my attention and to bring me fresh beer. Unfortunately, I didn't get Mr. Lee out of the bar quite fast enough, we ran into a sweet, charming, smart, pretty, sassy, fantastico gal he used to date - and he was completely rude to her, but through the power of beer, I'm sure he thought he was being a flirt. I really hope her evening wasn't ruined.

"Time to go, I'll rent you a movie on the way to the car" and minutes later we were at the non-national-chain-wierd-stuff-only rental place, that is a short stagger away from the bar.

I cringed to hear "Do you have any porn?" in a slurred I-think-I'm-funny voice.

I locked eyes on the dude behind the counter "No, there is no porn here".

Idiot behind the counter starts pointing to a corner and I go on "that's just wierd cartoon shit, there's no porn here, let's just grab something that looks funny and go".

You would think that a movie geek would understand the "let's just puh-lease pull a Jedi mind trick on my trashed friend, okay?" but nooooOOooo.

We compromised on "Jungle Virgin Force" which involved bad dubbing and southeastern asian chicks in leapord-print bikinni tops and fringed miniskirts, ala Tarzan.
*spoiler : the movie sucked, are you surprised?*

Meanwhile meanwhile, Mr. Hubby was hanging out with a friendly-crazy-hyper indian friend of ours who surprised the hell outta us by returning to town after living elsewhere for years. He called me last Friday saying "I need to get out of India, my life is in danger" and I believed him (with some people, you just never know), but couldn't have a huge reaction because I was at work and couldn't exactly yell "Crap! Get to the airport! We'll figure something out!" Yeah, . . . he and Mr. Hubby got a good laugh out of that, I told them they were tools for potentially causing me to do something stupid at the office.

And that is how I ended up with a very boisterous indian dude sitting on my couch at 1am loudly laughing his ass off at dozens of tarzan-costumed women running around and grunting as Mr. Lee splattered red wine on my (red wine colored) carpet and Mr. Hubby and I exchanged a well-worn look, not of love or annoyance, but an amused "how the hell do we end up in these situations?"



Thursday, Jan. 18, 2007 - 10:15 a.m.

8 wheels strapped on, where to go?


dontcha hate it when you somehow delete a witty entry?

Short version:
I skated yesterday for the first time in yeeeeeeears, and only fell once in two hours. I fell because I was going too fast and wasn't paying close enough attention to my feet as I turned a corner going foot-over-foot. Yeah. Coordinated. Left foot shot out from under me, land on left buttcheek/hip with a thud. Other than a slight ache in my left hip, I feel absolutely fine. If I had kneepads (or any padding for that matter) I probably could have avoided any injury.

My local roller derby crew is gently but quite obviously trying to recruit me because they need a bigger team. I'm not a nightmare on wheels, but I don't even know how to stop, much less fall properly, so I'm assuming their criteria for admission has more to do with having a good time than actually creating a badass team?

Sooooo, I'm going to continue to attend "open skate" at my local rink for the next few weeks, and try to figure out
1) If I'm even capable of meeting the minimum skating ability requirements to participate in a league.
2) If I enjoy skating fast or it scares the hell outta me.

Other "what ifs" are cropping up, but I'm trying to concentrate on just a few things at a time so I don't chicken out for no good reason.

Have you ever been involved in a somewhat risky sport before?
How do you approach big decisions?

Any blah blah contributions appreciated, I may not abide by your input, but I do want some opinions!



Wednesday, Jan. 17, 2007 - 11:10 a.m.

Elvis Wednesday: Batteries not Included

Want to Sing with the King?

A big thanks to Madame DeBarge for bringing this fabulous atrocity to my attention!

* ~ * ~ * ~ *
In non-Elvis news, I think being pissed off over the weekend sapped me of all defensive power against cooties, or perhaps I was so cranky because I was already under the control of cooties?
In short, I've slept much more than I've been awake for the past four days. And I still feel super tired and headache-icky. But not so icky that I can't pretend to work and watch the clock sloooowly tick towards lunch hour.

In non-crabby non-Elvis news, my sister will be in town next month! Happy Dance!! I hope hope hope to have some hope imrovement projects completed before she visits, but will settle for having my Christmas decorations packed away and spring cleaning my (neglected, freeezing cold) sunroom.

Have you avoided the plague so far this winter?



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