old news

I can’t imagine there’s anyone who reads this thing that isn't already privy to this information, but for the record: The Fight Crew was dethroned on 12/8/07. My congrats to the Sirens, LADD’s 2007 championship team. It was the closet game in LADD history, and arguably the best (we’ve never had the crowd do a wave before, and on 12/8, it happened more than once). It all came down to the last jam, and rather than do a half-assed job rehashing it, you can read Busta Armov’s insanely detailed bout recap here.

On a personal note, I think I had a good game. It was the first I played primarily as a blocker, which is so much less exhausting than jamming. My friend, Ben Lee, told me that I looked like a cannon ball that kept shooting out of the pack to knock out the opposing jammer. In the fourth quarter, I went in a couple of times as a jammer, and managed to score for the Crew when the score had been tied. So that was good. And I wasn’t even too beat-up at the end of the night.

Of course, I’m disappointed that we lost, but you couldn’t ask for a better game. Both teams skated their asses off, the score was close throughout, and more than one skater went flying over the rail (including during the last jam). Someone please explain why roller derby was ever scripted?

We received more glowing press. Those guys at LA City Zine still love us. Lina Lecaro wrote about us in the LA Weekly’s Nightranger column, and our pal DF from Losanjealous came back for seconds.

Speaking of DF, Losanjealous and the L.A. Derby Dolls are officially in bed together. Following a meeting wherein much booze and caffeinated diet beverages were consumed, a contract was drafted on a scrap of spiral notebook paper. I cannot disclose all of the terms, but the gist of it is that DF (health permitting) is now committed to covering LADD’s 2008 season for Losanjealous. In exchange, we are going to let them hang a banner inside the Doll Factory. The Dolls are anxiously awaiting the delivery of said banner. Look for the Losanjealous banner in 08, which I imagine will fly alongside our American flag.

Some photography:


me whipping my BFF, crystal deth, OMG!



paris killton on the warpath.


i jam therefore i am. judy "crazy arms" gloom.


Fighty goes flying over the rail.


tara armov attempts to snack on mila minute's forearm.

(pics 1, 3 and 4 by 3D sean; pics 2 and 5 by karl walter)

Check out all the bout pics here.

Oh yeah, the Derby Dolls are on hiatus until January 10th. Seeing as we play year-round (with the exception of one other month off during the summer), this respite is very necessary. The next bout is scheduled for January 27th when the Fight Crew face off against the Tough Cookies. We gotta skate to pay the rent.

Speaking of large sums of pain and cash, yesterday I went to the dentist. When I left, my wallet was $1200 lighter. And that’s after insurance. Ouch.

Dear Santa: Alls I want for x-mas is a couple of porcelain crowns in my stocking. Presentation in a fuzzy jewelry box is appreciated.

weekend houseguest

friday night, camembert and i were playing scrabble, drinking a couple of beers, when he said something that really got to me.

"gloomy," he said (that's his pet name for me), "i don't want to go back to that other place. can't i just stay here forever?"

i saw the desperation in his eyes, those twin blue moons.

"i'm sorry, cam, but that isn't how it works. you have a mom and dad in koreatown who love and miss you."

"if they love me so much, why did they leave me here?" his gaze was fixed on the tile rack at his paws. "it's scary moving around from place to place. it constipates me."

"it was hard for your mom to leave you with us, cam. but your dad has an art show in san francisco and he needs her help."

he licked his paw, considering this.

"i like hollywood better," he said finally.

cam turned away from the scrabble board and peered out the window.

"plus, your apartment is so stylish, and i have discovered many great hiding spots."

i studied cam as he studied the palm tree outside. i have never been a cat person, but this cat was getting to me. not only was he good-looking, but he was proving to be a formidable scrabble opponent.

"i wish things were different," i said.

cam ignored me.

"your tv is so much bigger," he continued. "and i've been thinking about becoming a vegetarian. i don't know if i can't stand to be around all that meat anymore. also, i think my parents are giving me lung cancer from their secondhand smoke."

"i'm sorry."

we were quiet, the scrabble board a grave marker between us. as he stared through the window, i tried to think of a way to console him, but came up empty. i reached for the stick with the filthy stuffed mouse attached to the end. i dangled it in front of him, trying to coax him into play, but cam was unmoved.

finally, i said, "it's your turn."

he studied his letters for a couple of minutes before spelling a word. he pushed each tile carefully, moving it across the board with the tip of his white paw, until he'd spelled something worth the 50 pt bingo bonus:

G-O-O-D-B-Y-E.

without glancing in my direction, he lowered his face to the pint glass at his side. cam plunged his mouth into the foam and lapped his beer.

i <3 derby

injury sustained during the fight crew's wednesday night scrimmage against the sirens, which we won.

the fight crew is going to the 2007 championships on saturday, december 8th. you should go too!

party time

thanksgiving at ms. manor* was a success. there was no shortage of grub: everyone got stuffed (shannon and i started panicking on wednesday that there would be some kind of food availability crisis, inciting a riot among our starved guests. as it turns out, we could've fed most of hollywood. we are so becoming our mothers. the leftovers are rotting in our fridge if you wanna stop by).


i had a minor freakout as guests started to arrive and i was still hunched over the stovetop, perfecting my rosemary seitan. i called in reinforcements - oli, shannon and georgia - to be my sous chefs, and we got the food on the table without a hitch.


look! everyone fits, and no elbows bump!


georgia and i, post-consumption cuddling.

check out all the photos here.

i also had a birthday last weekend. i skated. i fell. i ate cupcakes in a parking lot. people told me they had fun. i think i had fun too though my memory is a little foggy.

i was able to piece the night together a bit thanks to photographic evidence.

but seriously guys: did the snaggle-toothed and/or cross-eyed employees of world on wheels polish their skate floor with butter before we arrived? much of my birthday was spent on my ass. shit is slick up in that roller disco! i woke up on sunday morning, my for reals birthday, more bruised than the morning after a derby bout.

OK, yes, i was drinking, and some people claim that booze and roller skating don't mix, but i've done some of my best work on skates while intoxicated. just recently, i was hired (along with a few other dolls) to roller skate at scott weiland's 40th birthday party.

there was an open bar, which we, the ever-professional derby girls, hit with much gusto. the drinking had no negative impact on our performance, and as the night wore on, we got more and more creative with our interpretive dance moves. a few of us even started blocking and whipping scott, who was a good sport, not to mention a terrific roller skater (who knew?). the party guests loved us, and the event planner assured me that we are hired the very next time she throws a roller disco party for an aging rock star.

*forgot to have the thanksgiving day name-meghan-and-shannon's-apartment contest. ms. manor remains the working title until i (or you?) come up with something better.

banked track roller derby: spectacle of suffering and moral beauty

i know this doesn't hold much water coming from the mouthpiece for L.A. Derby Dolls public relations, but i think it's fair to say that our league's debut at the Doll Factory on november 17th was a smash hit (pun acknowledged). the place was packed, and the energy so kinetic, there were moments i worried the Factory might explode - an untimely end to another promising beginning.

that is some gross hyperbole, but still: L.A. city council president, Eric Garcetti, blew the first whistle of the game, and apparently had such a great time at our little event, he felt compelled to blog about it afterward (or, at the very least, to persuade one of his underlings to do as much). now that's gotta count for something, right?

post-bout honorable mentions appeared in L.A. City Zine, whose Louis Elfman called our game, "the best event in L.A....ever," and whose photographer, Emberly Modine, now wants to join our ranks. we got a write-up in losanjealous that was later picked up by the defamer.

a nice quote from that last piece:

"The Dolls’ infrastructure keeps the event well enough in check, but there’s nowhere near the antiseptic organization one experiences at a major sporting event. The DIY vibe leaves for just enough disorder that you feel like a really cool riot could break out at any moment."

and the writer's conclusion:

"[i'm]...hard-pressed to think of an event that offers so much bang for the buck. In addition to the main roller derby event, there are punk bands, vendors selling crazy crap, and a general atmosphere of Dionysian good-timery. Unless you lack a pulse, or a soul, or both, you will love the shit out of this crazy spectacle."

if you want some pictures to go with the words, check out my flickr photo set (which documents the Doll Factory's pre-bout caterpillar-into-butterfly-like transformation, and includes a few pilfered game photos).

a couple of bones for the click-averse:





...............................................

there have been a few key moments in the relatively brief history of the LADD where we believed ourselves on the brink of SoCal domination. then the same thing happened, twice: we became homeless, and in both cases, it was a huge setback. let me tell you folks - lugging a 100 x 60 foot banked track around LA is no cakewalk, and this burden takes its toll on skater morale. finding a place to practice and play, a little stability in our collective lives, has been the LADD's cross to bear. but now that we finally have city council on our side, and a venue that can accommodate so many of our fans, Good Things are already starting to happen.

some interesting things were written by DF, the cryptically named losanjealous blogger. he calls roller derby a "crazy spectacle," which resonated with me, as the sport vs. spectacle issue is something that's been on my mind these days. as a skater, i know i want to be taken seriously as an athlete, and the LADD has worked hard to distance itself from WWF-style old school derby. the game we play has no predetermined outcome. it is unscripted and legitimately competitive. what separates the LADD from most of our new school, all-girl derby contemporaries, however, is our banked track (the same thing that precludes us from membership in the omnipresent WFTDA).

as a banked track league, there are only so many teams we can bout against. we have a banked track sister league in san diego, and we've faced-off against the reality tv-immortalized texas lonestar rollergirls a couple of times. but within the LADD proper there are only three teams (we hope to add a fourth sooner than later). i used to worry: will the fans get bored?

i no longer worry, and i'm starting to see why such fears were unfounded. DF makes a point here:

"I am reminded of FIFA president Sepp Blatter’s observation that women’s soccer would be more popular if it was sexed up a bit. He was widely derided as a misogynist and fool, but maybe he was onto something. The reason that the Derby Dolls are infinitely more entertaining than the WNBA or the Women’s World Cup is that they bring theater as well as skill, and part of that theater is sex appeal. There’s this widespread belief that you can’t be both a hot bitch and a bitchin athlete, but as the Dolls amply illustrate, that is horseshit."

the LADD wants other leagues to go banked, and we want to add more teams to our own league, but the process is slow. in the interim, we occupy the DMZ between sport and spectacle. i was thinking about this stuff the other night, and i revisited a couple things i had read previously: roland barthes' essay, "The World of Wrestling," and an article that stephen burt wrote on the "semi-cultlike world of women's basketball" for the believer a few years back.

barthes regards professional wrestling in america as a "sort of mythological fight between good and evil." when i first read this essay in college, i had no interest in wrestling, or any spectacles of that ilk, and i openly hated All Things Sporty. i still had a soft spot for roller skating, however (beloved pastime of my youth!), but never dreamed that roller derby would receive a punk rock makeover, and come back in such an accessible incarnation.

the barthes essay has echoes of roller derby throughout, and there is certainly a Good vs. Evil component to the game we play. as a rule, our fans hate whichever team wins the most. as the undefeated 2006 season champs, that honor currently goes to my own team, the fight crew. it doesn't help much that our uniforms are a blazing, communist red. the tide could be changing though. fight crew had a few losses in 07, and the sirens acquired superstar jammer, mila minute. no one is sure what to expect from the 2007 championship game, scheduled for december 8th.

(similarly, in the believer article, burt mentions the collective hatred among wnba fans for the L.A. Sparks, who are widely regarded as "arrogant thugs," unintentionally echoing barthes ideas on good v. evil in the spectacle. but really, isn't this sentiment applicable to any "straight" sport? don't superfans always regard their team's opponent as Evil?).

on the outcome of a wrestling match, barthes wrote,"wrestling is a sum of spectacles, of which no single one is a function: each moment imposes the total knowledge of a passion which rises, erect and alone, without ever extending to the crowning moment of a result. thus the function of the wrestler is not to win; it is to go exactly through the motions which are expected of him."

i'm not sure how many derby dolls would agree with this statement, but it holds some truth for me. winning the championship title in a three-team league strikes me as a little - oh, i don't know - meaningless? what i really care about is being a phenomenal skater: the best and fastest i can be. and i want the same thing for my teammates. i want us to skate as a unit, a formidable machine, a steamroller! but whether we actually win or lose? eh. winning is preferable, i suppose, but what matters more - to me anyway - is playing a good game.

who won the game on the 17th? it was the sirens, and by a considerable margin, but i can't recall the exact score.

when i look back on the league's early games at the Dollhouse (version 1.0 - the chinatown pillow factory with a 350-person capacity), i am amazed at how far we've come. and i'm not just talking about the size and scale of our events, or the fact that we no longer inhale manure while we skate, or, post-practice, dislodge errant feathers from our ears (did i mention the Dollhouse v 1.0 was a feather pillow factory?). i'm talking about skill level, and how with every game and every practice we become better and stronger skaters. this is something i believe has converted so many spectators into die-hard fans, and has kept them committed despite the lack of teams in the league, and our ongoing struggle to secure a permanent venue. our fans have grown with us, and they're invested in our fate. seeing how much better we are each time out is the payoff.

there was a fantastic moment during the november 17th bout when mila minute, a former figure skater and fan favorite, oft compared to ziggy stardust on wheels, was finishing her point-scoring lap. she had passed all of the opposing blockers, racking up four points, but she kept going, determined to score on the other jammer, who had just broken away from the pack. it took only seconds for mila, with her graceful figure skater's stride, to overtake the other jammer. instead of simply putting her hands on her hips to call off the jam, mila did a 180. beneath LADD's iconic disco skate, the two jammers faced each other, rolling quietly. the blockers receded into the darkness as mila taunted her opponent. and then she did what all of us were waiting for: she tossed her head back and placed her hands on her hips. the jam was over. the crowd - myself included - went ballistic.

barthes wrote: "wrestling presents man's suffering with all the amplification of tragic masks."

i think i'm making a point, kinda sorta, which is: the real moral drama happening in the mucked-up sport/spectacle that is banked track roller derby in los angeles is ongoing, and it's not always played out on the track. it's LADD vs. the Man. just to watch us bout is a triumph: Good Girls on Roller Skates defeating an evil, faceless bureaucracy. it helps that we're nice, we're accessible, and we skate in sexy outfits. we love our fans. we talk with them after our games, at bars, in the grocery store, and on the internet.

a similar sentiment is expressed by stephen burt, author of the previously mentioned believer article. of his devotion to the wnba's minnesota lynx, burt wrote:

"i give [them] my money and time because i like watching them play basketball. we who cherish the [the wnba] enjoy nifty play-making; approachable teams; the fact that the players are women and not girls; and an obsessive, welcoming, nerdy, chatty, national subculture, free of the yahoos, and the boys' club-feel, that men's team sports can bring."

totally. to illustrate:

the fight crew poses with our own devoted superfan, little kenny.

barthes closed "the world of wrestling" with this:

"when the hero or the villain of the drama, the man who was a few minutes earlier possessed by a moral rage, magnified into a sort of metaphysical sign, leaves the wrestling hall, impassive, anonymous, carrying a small suitcase and arm-in-arm with his wife, no one can doubt that wrestling holds the power of transmutation that is common to the Spectacle and to Religious Worship. In the ring, and even in the depths of their voluntary ignominy, wrestlers remain gods because they are, for a few moments, the key which opens Nature, the pure gesture which separates Good from Evil, and unveils the form of a Justice which is at last intelligible."

barthes also claimed that wrestling is the only sport that gave such an externalized image of torture. too bad he didn't live to see the L.A. Derby Dolls skate.

thanksgiving prep

neither shannon nor i are returning to our ancestral homelands for thanksgiving this year (new jersey and arizona, respectively). as we'd already broken our mothers' hearts over it, we opted to go balls out, and not leave Ms. Manor* at all on thanksgiving day, figuring if anyone wants to see us badly enough, they know where we live.

it was in this spirit that i circulated the following email to a few friends:

To Our Displaced, Orphaned and Expatriate Comrades (and anyone who is
simply tired of peering over the turkey, year after interminable year, and finding their boredom reflected in the sagging eyes of a grandparent):

Shannon and Meghan Present: A Hollywood Thanksgiving.

We have been watching too much Food Network and our brains have turned to squash. Let us feed them to you!

to my surprise, this email got a better-than-expected response (offering something ambiguous to eat = an affirmative RSVP. who knew? is it squash or is it brains or is it both? perhaps the only reason people are coming is because they want to find out).

what began as a Small Thing, a twinkle behind our spectacles, has snowballed into a Big Thing. our guest list now stands at 14. while i'm concerned about fitting everyone and their mother** comfortably inside our apartment, shannon has gone into martha stewart mode. she spent her weekend making curious things from construction paper: turkeys, chains, placards announcing (in decorative gold penmanship), "seitan," "turkey," "fennel, pomegranate and orange salad," etc.

this is where i left shannon when i went to bed on friday night:



and on saturday morning i woke up to this:






let's hope the food turns out as well as the decorations!

*working title for our apartment, which is long overdue for a proper name. there will be a "name shannon and meghan's apartment" contest on thanksgiving day, and the winner will receive an awesome prize (still TBD). i am currently accepting absentee submissions.

**literally. my friend and fellow derby doll, markie d. sod, is bringing her very own Ma Sod Jenny! i am very excited about this.

on birthdays

no matter how much gunk i put under my eyes before i go to sleep, or how long i can hold a plank during burn & firm class, i keep getting older. my 29th birthday is creeping up on me, and as the final hurrah of my 20s, i think i should have a party.

i don't do birthday parties, and can only recall two from my past: my sixth at chuck e. cheese's (a magical place that i could not be dissuaded from calling "chunky cheeses" regardless of how many times i was corrected). at this party, i was serenaded by a sexy animatronic chicken, and later flung myself into a pit to be buried beneath so many bright and hollow balls. i ate my weight in birthday cake, and even at such a tender age, i knew instinctively that parties would not get any better than this.

the other party i recall was my 22nd, back in phoenix, which my friend danielle threw in my honor. it was her idea, and when she told me, my heart filled with helium and expanded, a red balloon in my chest, warmed because someone thought i deserved a party. i was so moved by her gesture that i neglected to say that i didn't so much want a party. she had a big house, and i worried that when people failed to show up, it would feel that much more empty. these fears were not unfounded.

things i remember from this party: a runny vegan cheesecake, made by amy, which we ate in the kitchen with our hands. people coming and going throughout the night, never staying long enough to fill the house. crying in the bathroom. four people in that enormous living room, dancing to xtc. kim, who would later die from a drug overdose in that very same house, shattering a window.

so that was my last birthday party, and since then, i have kept it simple. dinner and drinks with friends, no fuss, no gift required. a small exception could be my 27th birthday, which i celebrated at the magic castle with a few of my favorite people. there were card tricks and quick-change acts and a smoking clown inside a giant balloon. there was also a bar. chunky cheeses for grown-ups.

but whatever, fuck it, this year i'm gonna have me a real party. and i think i've devised a foolproof plan, a birthday party with an insurance policy. i've invited my friends to crash someone else's party. the deets:



even if no one shows up for me, i will be surrounded by people dancing on roller skates - the best kind of people, my kind of people, all of us predestined to be fast friends.

so this is it. i am wrapping up my 20s, the end is in sight, but i am ok with that. when i look back on my early- and mid-20s, and recall how loath i was to part with each year, clinging to it, how i would examine my face in the mirror at night, scanning for a fresh line while cursing myself for raising my eyebrows so often, i see an unhappy person, someone who was desperate for more time to get things right. i am relieved to not be that girl anymore

here's another new thing i'm trying out: an amazon wishlist. of the highest priority: new knee pads as i am just barely keeping my current pair together with some strategically placed electrical tape. roller derby, hobo style.

the haps

the league put it to a vote, and our new home has been christened The Doll Factory.

(i voted for Temple of the Dolls, but oh well. i can live with The Doll Factory. i keep envisioning a warholesque motif where the walls are lined with aluminum foil. i wonder if that will fly with the fire marshal?).

there is other stuff i'd like to write about, but i've been so consumed with promoting our upcoming bout, that i haven't had the time. speaking of said bout, you guys (whoever you are) should come. my team isn't skating, but it might be a good game anyway. it's our inaugural bout in the doll factory, so you know everyone is gonna skate their hearts out. me, i'll be the bespectacled chick handing out press kits, making feeble attempts at schmoozing with media types.

What: L.A. Derby Dolls Banked Track Roller Derby Bout: Tough Cookies v. Sirens

When: Saturday, November 17th, 2007

Times: Doors at 6:00 pm, game begins at 7:30 pm

Where: 1910 Temple St., Los Angeles, 90026

Tickets: $15 general admission (ride your bike and get a $2 discount!); $35 for VIP, $45 for VIP with valet parking

Pre-sale tickets: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/23895

Parking: General parking available for $5 at City Of Angels Medical Center, 1711 West Temple (Temple and Union), one block from venue

Featuring: The Bourbon Saints and Lightnin’ Woodcock Trio playing live; L.A. Derby Dolls’ Fearleaders; Shopping at our amazing vendor village; More info at www.derbydolls.com/la.

21 and over event, beer and wine - cash only!

back in business

the LA Derby Dolls are no longer homeless! as of last weekend, we are the proud occupants of a ginormous warehouse at 1910 Temple Ave., just west of Alvarado (the neighborhood is Historic Filipino Town, and we are adjacent to Silver Lake and Echo Park). capacity has been tentatively set at 1600. holy shit! maybe now our games won't sell out days in advance (though it would be pretty amazing if they still did).

the inaugural bout in our new home is slated for november 17, sirens v. tough cookies. i'll let you know know when tickets become available.

in the meantime, here are some pics from last weekend's move-in and track build:





we haven't settled on a name for our new digs, which will serve as a practice space, administrative HQ and bout venue. "temple of the dolls" (in honor of the temple street location) and "the doll factory" are currently league favorites. what do you guys think?

have bike, will travel

though i've been quiet since my return from europe, it was more than two weeks ago that shannon, my roommate, retrieved my globe-trotting ass from LAX. she'd spent the summer in new york completing an archival internship, and our airport rendezvous was the first time i'd seen her since june. beneath the air canada sign, i waited with my bags. as she navigated her red volvo toward the curb, i thought: summer's over.

since my return to hollywood (and more importantly, my bedroom), i've been writing about the bike tour, which can only be described as epic. i'm at about 7000 words - way too many for a blog update. until i'm able to whittle shit down to something easily digestible and appropriately cyber, i'll placate you guys with pictures. don't most folks prefer those over words anyway?





in brief: though i was abroad for more than two weeks, the ride from london to paris took 6 days, and the route was approximately 250 miles. i have decided that bicycle is the best way to travel, and i hope to never vacation without one again.

check out all the photos from my trip here.

bon voyage!

my bike gang, the Pedalphiles, depart for europe on monday. here's a quickie rundown of the itinerary: we're riding from london to brighton, then brighton to portsmouth. from there we'll take a ferry to caen, france, and we'll spend a few days riding and taking the occasional train through normandy to paris. we'll have a few days in paris before we split up: chris & crystal back to london (and then crystal back to the u.s.); jesse to germany; and me to amsterdam and the hague to meet up with kathy, where we'll attend this thing.

i somehow wound up planning our route and schedule (somehow = no one else was doing it so i figured i should). the pedalphiles had a meeting last week where i presented the gang with three possible itineraries (everyone got their own handout), and then we took a vote. in case you guys didn't know, i am a total fucking nerd, and as evidence i present the introduction i wrote - the first page of the handout, which was distributed to the gang members.

The Pedalphiles Ride Europe!

Starring:

Christopher S. as “The Artiste.” Armed with a digital camera, and prone to trailing adorable woodland creatures off the beaten path, Chris’ wanderings lead the gang up several trees and down a couple of rabbit holes. Whether there’s a bunny or a beaver in Christopher’s viewfinder, you can bet heartwarming misadventures will abound!

Judy Gloom pulls double duty as the “Voice of Reason” and “A Raisin in the Sun.” Watch her freckles multiply on-screen as she settles disputes, and tells the gang how it really is! Don’t miss the dramatic final scene when she receives her doctor’s diagnosis of skin cancer. Thank goodness for French socialized medicine. A real tear-jerker!

With a cameo by Jesus AKA Jesse AKA Baby J as “El Machino.” Appearing only briefly as a brown blur who utters the single line, “See you in Paris!” watch Jesus leave his companions in the dust.

And our heroine, Crystal Deth, as the “Smoking Cyclist,” who pedals all over France in search of cannibis and Champagne in a Can. Crystal ultimately saves the day as the only Pedalphile who knows how to ask, “Where's the party at?” in French. Oooh-la-la!

With a special guest appearance by Elliott M. as “The Loner.” Content to ride solo, Elliott takes pity on the hapless Pedalphiles in England, and shows the gang a thing or two about riding on the wrong side of the road.

i'll be back on the 26th! ar of ar!

breaking technology news

i am the proud owner of two imposing, noisy, deadly serious computers. both are dual opterons, raids with a shit-ton of disk space. they are relics from a previous job, and up until recently, both have served me well.

about a month ago, however, both started acting funny, and my Computer Guys speculated that it might be an electrical problem in my apartment. my babies require lots of juice. so, while my Computer Guys try and get to the bottom of things, my dear friend kathy was kind enough to lend me her laptop.

hey guys, i have an announcement: laptops rule!

when i wake up in the morning, i don't even need to get out of bed. i can just reach down, grab the ol' laptop and get to business. a revolution in my bedroom!

another groundbreaking development is my discovery of multitasking. my roommate is fond of camping in front of the television with an ibook in her lap - a habit i have long regarded with suspicion. not anymore. i now realize that tv and laptop is a dynamic duo in the same league as peanut butter and jelly. my total daily procrastination (tdp) has been cut in half now that i've learned to double up on time wasting. this is efficiency is action.

my loaner laptop keeps me informed. she will hang out in the kitchen and broadcast "all things considered" while i wash dishes. i've tried this with a radio in the past, but i can never get decent reception.

also, have you guys heard of this thing called "wireless internet"? i don't have it, but someone nearby must because i'm always online, yet not encumbered by an irritating ethernet chord.

my ex, ed, is really fond of using his laptop on the toilet. that doesn't sound terribly hygienic to me, but it's nice to know the option exists in a pinch.

ok, i know i don't have a job right now, but i really want to get one of these laptop things. are they expensive? they're the best! all you guys out there should think about getting one too. it will change your life!

i have arrived

check out my ass on the defamer.

this pic is fairly representative my most recent game, during which i spent more time on my ass, knees, stomach, et al than i did skating upright.

i also badly injured my ankle on the infield. during a timeout.

it was the second worse game in my derby career - the first being a bout almost 3 years ago, the second i'd ever played, where my skate got caught under the lip of the track, and actually came off. twice! in one game.

needless to say, my team lost, but we did it with style. it was a close game throughout, and the crowd was loving it, which is the most important thing.