See, I get these bees in my bonnet, like, out of the blue. Thank god for these bees. They, in combination with some serious self-administered kicks in the ass, are responsible for every cool or productive thing I’ve ever done. Without them, I would have never started singing, never moved to Chicago, never been in a show, never applied to grad school, and never, ever, ever cleaned my house, ever. Ever. So, experience has taught me that the bees know their shit.

Lately, they been buzzing a LOT about roller derby.

Oh, GOD, I want to be in a women’s roller derby league!

It looks like so much fierce goddamned fun, and TOTALLY up my alley, in that it requires fearless spazzy energy, very little hand-eye coordination, and complete lack of regard for your own breakability. Check, check, and check!

Okay, so I don’t actually know anything about the game of roller derby. But the women on the teams all make up, like, piratey gangster names like Ima Bigwhore, they seem to hang out and party a lot, and there’s lots of REALLY VIOLENT BODYCHECKING GOING ON! SO FUN! I CAN TOTALLY DO THAT!

There’s just this whole image I have of these punkass ladies laughing their faces off and working really hard while wearing ROLLER SKATES, and oh my God it’s like NINJA XANADU, and I must be a part of it! I don’t mean to paint a sexy picture, though I bet it is pretty hot.

And they use the clunky 4-wheel skates with the stoppers! The kind that 1950s diner waitresses used! The kind I wore when I won all those roller rink races, before those schmancy bitches started showing up with their dumbass froofy roller blades! Fuckers. I’m rollin’ it old skool, bitches.

It would be nice to get some bruises from something cool, as opposed to just from falling in my closet. Shit, I use the “I fell in my closet” excuse so often that if had a boyfriend, strangers would be giving him dirty looks.

My name is Luca …

Anyway, I’ve been doing my research, and have found roller derby teams in both Chicago and in the Bay Area, because I’m trying to cover all my bases in case I move. I haven’t been able to find a team in Montreal yet … maybe those Canadians have, like, an ice-skater derby! Awesome! All things badass become even badder ass when there is imminent threat of being stabbed with a shiny, shiny blade!

Unfortunately, at the time I emailed them, I had missed the Chicago recruitment by a couple of weeks. The Bay Area team has, like, rolling (HA!) admission, though, so I can just show up any old week! And everyone I emailed was all, “Kickass! Roller Derby is so fun! Come and play!” One woman even said, “Believe it or not, you learn to love the bruises,” to which I answered, “Cool! I have to start thinking of my crazy pirate gangster stripper name!”

Fuck, yeah.

Things like this?

… don’t scare me.

Sheeeyit. I once suffered a wound from Capture the Flag that made me look like I’d been in a knife fight. Know what I did? I won the game, and I walked it the fuck off. My ass so bad, it should be in detention.

No, seriously. It may come to pass that I really, truly suck at roller derby, or that I won’t have time for it, but I think I may have found my sport. I’m fast, and I’m dangerous.

Here’s a conversation I had with my friend the other night. How about you circle everything in this scene that makes me awesome? It’s a game!

A bunch of us are gathered at someone’s house, to eat and hang out before watching “Deadwo0d.” Sam and I are sharing some whiskey while waiting for Ted to finish preparing our yummy dinner of scallops and homemade sweet potato gnocchi. I knew Sam and his wife had gone to see a Mexican Wrestling match the other night, so I ask,

“How was Mexican Wrestling?”
“It was really intense! They’ve got the masks and everything, and they really wrestle! Crazy, crazy characters.”
“Cool!”
“Yeah. We’re going back on Cinco de Mayo.”
“I wanna come, too! Hey, know what I want to do?”
“Whassat?”
“I really want to join a roller derby league.”
“Oh, man. I really wanna see a roller derby league!”
“I don’t know anything about the sport, it just looks fun. I think they race in packs? And the opposing team skates towards them to knock them down?”
“It’s like they treat the person in front like a ball.”
“AWESOME! I could be a human pinball! I’m kinda fast, and I fall enough anyway.”
“And you’re tough.”

And yum, yum, whiskey, and cheers. And “Deadwo0d,” cocksuckers.

Ah, yes. Tough. Troy must have recalled how I totally knocked him down, all 6’4” of him, during our last big Frisbee game. And when he said “tough,” I mentally spelled it “tuff,” like S.E. Hinton did in “The Outsiders,” and that made my inner Ponyboy Curtis flail with glee. (But in a Fonzy-cool way.) So, who wants to rumble?

WHO THE FUCK WANTS TO RUMBLE?

Okay, let’s be honest. Even though I can take a hit, I’m way more Ponyboy than I am Dally. But, still … roller derby looks like fun.

Stay gold, chickens. Stay gold.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Arm-in-Arm Down Burgundy - 09.05.05

Motivated! - 08.25.05

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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