Tuesday, Feb. 06, 2007 - 11:42 a.m.

back to the drawing board?

Sooo, I've done alot of fretting lately about the process of picking out a derby name. And I'm afraid I'm not *quite* done fretting yet, because I was not granted permission to use the name I had in mind, because it was deemed (by the rollergirl using a similar name) to be too close to a name already in use.

Gotta be a big girl about this.
She had the name first.
She's been skating longer than I have.
She could probably whomp me.

I knew it was a possibility that she'd say no, but I was of the impression (since the name database has dozens names that are nearly alike) that it was rare for a person's "hey, I'd like to use a name similar to yours" request to be denied.

pout pout-idy pout pout
crap crap

Soooo, I've offered up a slightly less similar variation on the name, and am pretty sure that will be rejected also.

**deleted extensive rant about not using "JungleBetti" because of stalker creeps**



Monday, Feb. 05, 2007 - 9:24 a.m.

athletic padding is too fun to be true

Sunday evening, I trained/exercised on skates for two hours and learned how to (safely) fall on either knee, or on both knees 80's-hair-band-lead-guitarist-style. (Yes, I had a really hard time not playing air guitar). I'm a *little* better at skating backwards, am much more comfortable stopping myself using my toe stop, and can do a very bad impersonation of someone who knows how to t-stop (drag your foot along at a 90 degree angle). I got to weave through six other skaters and did not cause everyone to fall down! I had a ball with "shopping cart" drills, and found that I can (badly) both push and drag two other non-pixie-sized women on skates.

Oh. You were watching something on TV?

Back to something interesing:
I also didn't fall other than when I was supposed to, and I rock the giant hip pads and tailbone protector like none otha; I look like Jerry Blank (from Strangers with Candy) on her worst lumpy-butt day.

I expected to feel sore from head to toe after all the crunches, push-ups, and skate-bound ankle exercises (and others) we did yesterday. Oddly, I'm feeling alright except for a few things:

My cheap-0 mouthguard sucks, my jaw feels squirelly from being in an unnatural position for so long. (Yeah, insert perv joke here). I see myself spending big bucks at the dentist's office to have a custom dental guard made. My parents put a ton of money into getting my teeth straight, I'm pretty vain about my teeth, blah blah, who wouldn't drop $150 to avoid loosing adult teeth?

My hands and wrists feel cramped up, probably from the two hours of minute-taking at the pre-practice meeting, wearing new wrist guards, and it is freaking cold in my bit of the universe, which tends to make my joints cranky anyway.

My hips are a little sore, but again, duh - it's freaking cold out, my hips would probably be sore regardless.

Strangest side effect? I was only able to sleep for four hours last night. Horribly annoying. I fell asleep easily enough, but I woke up feeling like I was in a huge rush to get somewhere, and never completely fell asleep again. The up side is that I got to work on time.

Other cool stuff from this weekend:
* I attended another rollerderby bout on Saturday, and watched a team with such good form and awareness of derby rules that it was really inspiring for me.
* I found out that one of the best skaters I personally know didn't start skating 'till she was 30. I'm 29 - perhaps I've got a shot at getting good at this!
* I also picked out a derby name for myself, and am currently waiting on clearance from another gal with a similar name, 'cause I'm polite like that.

* ~ * ~ *
Since I'm afraid of the boogeyman, I will not be posting my official WFTDA (Womens Flat Track Derby Association) name on this blog. However, if you've got a history of commenting to me and you agree not to post my name on your own blog, I'd be happy to send my derby name to you via email.

The unfortunate side of derby is that a sport team that involves over a dozen rollerskate-wearin' badass women is bound to attract a few wierdos, and it is best that those wierdos do not know your actual name. Hence, the use of a derby name. I'm also extending that logic to my blog name since I do tend to type about things I'd rather said rollergirl-stalkin' wierdos didn't know about.

* ~ * ~ *
in other other news,
I have another freelance project on the horizon, and may not have much blog-time this week.

Nanoo nanoo.



Friday, Feb. 02, 2007 - 8:57 a.m.

nerds on wheels make the world go 'round

Yesterday I had a very accident-prone day, and for no reason in particular, I'll blame the EXTREMELY LOUD basketball game I attended on Wednesday evening. (Which was both fantastic, and near-panic-attack inducing - odd because it's been yeeeeeeears since I had a panic attack).

* I nearly fell in the shower. I was brushing my teeth and doing a leg-strengthing exercise at the time, but still . . .

* I nearly forgot to let my "food bully" cat out of the bathroom when she was done eating her lunch. The wrath of angry Lydia is something I'd rather not call upon myself, thanks very much.

* I nearly forgot to wash my hands after handling raw chicken, I was about to grab a sandwich and start mowing down. Mmmmmm everyone loves salmonella . . .

* I left my headlights on while I spent my lunch break with my pets, so I was late back to the office because it took me a while to jump my car using an external battery. Fortunately, I didn't have a mishap involving 12.6 volts of electricty, that would've sucked.

* When I returned to the office, it was apparent that someone had a battle with the microwave, that resulted in the smell of burnt old fish permeating my area. I'm the only girl in my area. Nasty fish smell IS NOT WELCOME. Sooooo, I did a half-ass job cleaning the microwave and took out the trash, and the office STILL smelled. Soooo I decided to battle smell with smell and decided to light a cloyingly sweet vanilla-icing-scented candle. Apparently the book of matches I stashed away was both old and crappy; the first match would not light, it just disintigrated when I pulled it through the folded matchbook. Sooo, I decided to do the direct-pressure route, knowing that I'm coordinated (ha) enough to pull my finger away from a flaming match. I pulled my finger away when I heard the match light, and realized that this match head had also disintegrated, the flaming portion was imbedded in my finger. Of course I had to stare at it for a little while before putting it out. Barbequed fingertip smell did help cover the fish smell, but was also gross. I had to remove the charred skin from my fingertip it was so gross and smelly. Oddly, my sans-skin fingertip doesn't hurt as much as it would appear to. Perhaps my years of typing, gardening and instrument-playing were of assistance? Long story short, (too late) I found a lighter and vanilla smell vanquished fish smell.

* I had very little time between returning home from work and leaving for skating lap practice; again I almost forgot to let Mz.FoodIssues-Lydia-kitty out of the bathroom, I somehow gave Suki-dog the impression she was going for a car ride and grievously dissapointed her by telling her to kennel up, then I nearly fell on my ass (slick sidewalk + poor shoe choice + rush) while delivering skate pads to one of my fellow rollerskaters.

So, understandably, I was a little nervous about lacing up my skates and getting out on to the rink.

Other than reopening my nemisis blister, I did just fine!

Mr. Lee and I were about to pay (money in hand, leaning towards the booth) to stay for the actual skate session when we overheard "I'm here for the XXXX elementary school skate night".

Talk about a close call! We headed into the dark night in search of bandaids, moleskin, athletic tape, and anything else that might prevent me from tearing the hell outta my foot next time I skate.

* Upon returning home to Mr. Hubby and the pets I started to think that my clutz streak had ended. Then I sliced my finger (yeah, the burnt one) on a can of soup. Bleedy bleedy bandaid bandaid blah blah.

Determined to rid myself of my clutz streak, I brought my evening to a close by donning ALL my rollerskating padding (including helmet) and flinging myself across my (crappy vinyl) kitchen/dining room floor for my own entertainment.
(Mr. Hubby, Mr. Lee and my pets were also amused)

The equipment I purchased from Wild Bill at Pro-Designed, Inc. was worth every single penny. By the power of padding, I was not injured by my self-induced spazziness. (And so far seem to have ended my clutz streak). My floor took some scuffing, but it deserves it for being stark white and already scuffed up.



Wednesday, Jan. 31, 2007 - 8:38 a.m.

Elvis wants to be a macho man??

Wow . . . just wow.
Apparently the 1970s were rough on The King.

Familiar much?

* ~ * ~ * ~ *
In unrelated news,

My hairdresser is fantastically stubborn.

She refused to cut my hair off, telling me that "You're at the shaggy stage where most people give up and go back to short hair. Just let your hair grow for another two months then I'll re-shape it, I'm sure it will be worth the wait."
She changed the shape of my grown-out bangs a bit, tidied up my neckline, and told me to buy some volumizing hair product to use before blowdrying.
Knowing that I'm a budget minded-gal, she also suggested that I dye my hair myself as a means of bribing myself out of cutting it - so I used a semi-permanent dark reddish-purple that nearly everyone tries out at least once. Since my natural hair color is damn near black, it hardly shows up, but I'm appeased all the same.
You'd think it would be really annoying to be bossed around by your hairdresser, but honestly, I'm releived. Super bonus that she didn't charge me for anything!

I need to think of a non-creepy thank you present to bring her. Any suggestions?



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