Whenever someone from my non-derby life starts to ask me questions about my derby life, I inevitably immediately disappoint them.
Quick aside: I feel the need to explain that once you join roller derby your life splits right in two. You have the life you know, the one with your friends and family and loved ones, and then there’s this other life that your friends and family and loved ones are completely baffled by. One where you have a second set of friends and family and loved ones, but these people all spend time physically harming each other. You spend an extraordinary amount of time with these people, and sometimes you never learn their real names. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. Continue reading
Here’s the promo for my upcoming Baby Doll Brawl (this Sunday!!). Fun fact: during “and fight their way…” that’s me and my Meteorfight teammate Risky a Go-Go taking out two opposing team members, including their jammer, using her arm and my ass. (And then a few seconds later you can see me fling myself onto the rail in order to avoid a pile-up, where I hang there (but also knock over an opposing team member! yeah? anybody? … okay, fine.)
At the orientation meeting we were told this will be the sixth Baby Doll Brawl in the history of the LA Derby Dolls. This is when Helen Surly Frown turned to me and groaned, “Oh, Holla. You know what that means? We’ve skated in half of them. HALF! We are the oldest Fresh Meat of all time. Rancid, gross, smelly, old meat.”
Come watch the creakiest, hurtingest, oldest rookie skaters take on the newbiest of the noobs when Hell’s Belles defeat the Ice Vixens this Sunday at the Doll Factory. Tickets on sale now. If you’re too far away, you can still support your LA derby girl by watching the live feed.
“Yikes, Holla. That’s a bruise.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Have you taken a picture of it yet?”
“You need to. And put it on the Internet and tell people to come to the bout.”
Right now I’m staring at my uniform which is hanging from the doorway to my kitchen. My gear is by my side, brand new helmet already scratched in the places where it saved me from harm. And I’m stoked. Continue reading
I am hurting. Hurting, people. My body is bruised and contused. I am kind of a hot mess, and I think I have about ten minutes before this Vicodin kicks in proper, so let me try and get these stories out. Our little rookie game needs ticket sales. It’s a cheap game, it’s all ages, it’s on a Saturday afternoon, and it’s way more fun if you are there.
Please buy tickets to the Baby Doll Brawl. Send your friends, grab a group, make an afternoon of it. Something. Because there’s been a tremendous amount of blood, sweat and tears (no really, all three) put into this bout. Ticket sales pay our rent. We skate for you and we can’t skate without you. And thanks for those of you who have been supporting us all this time, coming to our games or buying merchandise.
So, three quick stories.
I’ve learned that while I normally bruise extremely easily, my face seems to be the exception. I’ve taken a few accidental blows to the head over the past couple of weeks — an elbow to the temple, and elbow to the other temple (same girl, one week later, opposite elbow), a skate to the chin, a shoulder to the cheek, a full-on forehead-to-forehead smack that seemed straight out of a deleted scene from Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and lastly… oh, man. Continue reading
Saturday, June 27, 2009 — Beginning at 3 p.m.
Double your derby! Double your fun!
L.A. Derby Dolls host TWO bouts in ONE day of all-girl banked track roller derby action!
Buy Tickets Online Now!!
The day explodes at 3 p.m. with an exciting exhibition of LADDs newest skaters, known as the Baby Doll Brawl, featuring the latest, greatest rookie skaters. Baby Doll Brawls are known for two things: being an all-ages bout (so you can bring the whole family including the kids), and featuring some of the most spectacular, cringe-inducing hits and spills. The rookies are hungry to prove themselves as future Derby Doll stars and they play it like they mean it. Continue reading
This is a reprint of an essay I sent to the Derby Dolls and Fresh Meat mailing lists back in early August. Back then, Helen Surly Frown didn’t have her awesome Derby name, so I’m putting it in here to protect the innocent. Allison? Well, she’s just stuck being outed with me.
Razorslut posted many weeks ago about the Historic Filipinotown 5K, saying she got clearance to skate it, and that it would be fun. She encouraged everybody to sign up. So three of us: Freshies Allison, Surly and myself, did. And then it turns out everybody else in the world went to RollerCon. We figured certainly someone else would be there. Some other Freshie, perhaps. No. Just us. Representing all y’all.
[ETA: Both the registration and the start/finish line were at the Doll Factory, the warehouse where the Derby Dolls reside. The Derby Dolls take an active role in the community through several service organizations. A couple of weeks earlier we were on this same corner in the early morning hours to help participate in the Mayor’s Day of Service. – p] Continue reading
For almost four months now, I’ve been living a bit of a double life. It was a secret at first, mostly because I didn’t want to talk about it, I wanted to just do it. Plus, a lot of people weren’t going to understand. They were going to judge me. Not that I care about that, I mean, not too much. But I didn’t want to be a poseur. I wanted to wait until I knew I was really in it. Until I was sure.
I’m not the only one who does it, and from what I understand, more and more women are doing it every day. I wanted it to be just mine, just for a little while. But people have been asking me to write about it, and as much as I liked having this secret, it’s time for me to go public, because it’s about to become very public, whether I like it or not. Continue reading
There’s no order of importance here, but in the last week or so I’ve had a package lost at the post office, a letter returned because it didn’t reach the recipient in time, my computer stolen, and my tailbone broken.
I’m not sad or pissed off, but I am getting impatient with living my days balanced on one hip and my nights splayed across ice packs. And I’m really tired of calling the post office. Other than that, it’s work-book-work.
Mostly I’m nervous, because in a couple of days I’m teaching a class where I’m not as worried about being funny as I am being fun. Ages 8-12?! Yikes. I am a very old lady to them.
Speaking of, last weekend I got carded buying a bottle of wine, and the mohawked dude behind the counter looks at my ID and goes, “Whoa. WHOA.” Then he looks at the people in line behind me and goes, “I thought she was WAY younger than that. I mean, that’s a like, a baby face compared to how old you–”
“ALL RIGHT,” I shouted. “It was flattering at first, but that’s enough. I’m not THAT old.”
And then he did that head bob that means, “Kinda you are.”
That story has nothing to do with why I haven’t been updating my blog other than I proceeded to drink that bottle of wine, talking about how I’m not old, and then I was in no condition to write anything to anyone.
…I will probably not tell that story to the eight-year olds.