back to the 80s...sort of

This weekend I finally made it to an SD roller derby. After a hellacious week of losing and breaking various "objects", having my dissertation taunted by mother nature and coming down with the jet-setting virus that seems to be plaguing all of humanity this winter, I felt I needed to get out some aggression by watching scantily clad fierce women knock each other around a polished floor. Better yet, last week coincided with my 33rd birthday, making a trip to Linda Vista's SkateWorld all the more relevant. Harkening back to the days of spandex pants, glitter and sheet cake, skating rinks are just made for birthdays.

Roller derby is awesome! These ladies are not only amazingly skilled skaters but they have an uncanny ability to balance the savagely brutal interactions required on the rink with graceful charm expected by all ladies (in some circles at least, see this site for more information on the topic http://bucket-o-hank.blogspot.com/2008/01
/conveyor-belt-etiquette-part-ii.html). This became all too obvious about 20 minutes after we had all gathered rink-side to watch the action when I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and heard a polite "pardon me". I stepped aside and watched as a 6 foot 2 amazon with bleach blond cropped hair and two black eyes glided past me onto the rink. On the back of her jersey was written "Miss Evil #55". The scariest looking player however was donned "Riot". We got up close and personal while she was sitting in the penalty box for some offense she had committed.

The game is pretty simple actually as far as rules and scoring but it is almost impossible to watch the game and know what is going on, it happens so fast. There are something like 8 refs in the center of the rink, all showing different hand signals at any one moment and then one daunted -looking score keeper with a clipboard trying to interpret all of these. The final score of the game was 62 to 112 so obviously points were being scored often during the 20 minute halves but I don't think I observed one point knowing that it had occurred. But nonetheless, we were mesmerized. Next game featuring the SD Derby Dolls is March 15 and we will definitely be there!


After the derby we sauntered over to Padre Gold, a local upright establishment that featured free pizza and cheap beers for derby spectators. We met up with the hapless few who did not make it into the derby before it sold out and filled them in on the action they missed. Fortunately, Trace and Dev were among them and they had been drinking while waiting so their last two hours were in no way lacking for action. Luckily, we arrived just in time to catch Trace espousing on the importance of using the appropriate extinction coefficient when determining the risk factors associated with carnivorous land snails trapped on island-based continents.

After a few beers and more merriment, the OB members of our group started getting the twitch that occurs after 5 hours of being out of OB so we packed back into our caravan and headed to Tiny's, probably my favorite OB bar. There, Hank and Alyssa sent out the OB signal and within 20 minutes the place was crawling with our people.


Oh but the night was just beginning. We were in OB, the beer is cheap and the natives never sleep. Only slightly lesser well known is this, they have the ability to drink for consecutive nights without reprieve. I was determined to not let my 33 years and Fairmont Park residence status deter me. I had to keep up! So the next obvious stop once the bars closed was the Funplex where Hank immediately set up his strobe light, disco ball and fog machine (he actually owns a fog machine) and I was treated to my first ever late night house of fun dance party. WARNING: some of the moves you are about to see are trademarked. For permission to use these moves in your own place of residence, please contact the thriller dance team, p.o. box somewhere in OB.


Dancing lasted to 6am, well by then it was merely mellow toe-tapping but I can conclude that at 33, I still got it in me! and maybe they will even invite me back.
PHOTO CREDITS: All photos taken by Holly on Holly's camera. Thanks Holly!

.....and please stay tuned for my next entry entitled "Hank pimped my ride".

Team Blackout places 3rd

The Great American Trolly Race was on. The OB and SDSU contingents met at Old Town's flagpole where chief engineer Hank assigned the 4 teams (each a risky sampling from both contingents), told us the rules (never forget, safety second!) and led us and many patriotic on-lookers in singing the national anthem.





The asian mussel was nominated captain of team Blackout, our beautiful and talented judge pulled out the first of 45 envelopes and gave us our starting mission, catch the trolly to the Yard House, 1/2 yards for all. Ok so that piddely little pint glass was mine but I preferred to work my way up slowly...I mean, 44 envelopes to go people!

Our next mission was taken on foot...disaster, Team Red Hots faced us down at the entrance of our next classy establishment which turned out to be closed. We proceeded to Chee Chee across the street. The asian mussel had the foresight to order our 11 "special shots" before the other team so we could shave off precious minutes, road to victory paved.

Next envelope told us to get to H Street and after some confused wandering Kim realized this meant Chula Vista and not downtown and that we could in fact not walk there. Back on the trolly, Trace industriously copied down the trolly map by hand to avoid future mishaps. This surely would have won her MVP if it were not for the 3 iphones we soon discovered on our team. Our instructions for CV suggested additional point options for tattoos and piercings. The drinking destination, el Agave, was fabulous! The shots were actually whole drinks that you could make look smaller by pouring into several shot glasses AND there was a live mariachi band warming up who were all to happy to pose seductively for us.

As we had suspected for weeks due to our easy access and Hank's love for performances where human women interact with hooved animals, our next mission given by envelope 42, was to cross the border and fulfill a long litany of tasks. Just like the peso, the points were much smaller than those available in the homeland, save for going topless while swinging from an indoor pole...Less fun options included absynth, tequila with whistles, trinkets (we opted for a phallic-shaped pipe), laying hands on the friendship arch, placing a political wager, touching the zebra inappropriately requesting shakira and bucket of beer at Taco Bell.

This was the closest we came to requesting Shakira...no points.

We wound our way back to the border only to find a viciously long line of bedraggled tourists, most of whom looked like they needed a nap, or serious therapy. Luckily, our judge supplied a bottle of Jager so we were able to continue wracking up points while we waited. As we got closer to the border and precious time ticked away, team morale began to teeter on the edge, then swung between alternating highs and lows with every ensuing jager swig and churo bite, belligerency was unavoidable...no one would fight me. The asian mussel turned a deaf ear and would not succumb to my trash talking. He had already heard all those jokes about his mother, apparently.

3 hrs later most of us had made it across unscathed however our very own resident alien was sent to yet another line that delayed her even longer. The guards were clearly suspicious of her personal taste in mexican trinkets and her plans of re-selling them upon returning to australia.

Once we had re-grouped, envelope #36 told us to go to nother bar in CV, which I cannot even remember except that I am pretty sure I snuck into the bathroom to dump my almost full red bull and vodka down the drain so I would not have to endure another sip and was so happy to discover that I could hide the residual ice cubes from my team member in the stall by running hot water over them. Oh, and that we got the sour-faced lead singer of what appeared to be a RHCP cover band to sing Shakira, 5 more points.

Closely trailing us in time and good looks, team great white entered Janie's something as we were leaving and our mad dash sprint revealed we had missed the trolly. More waiting and mulling over our next destination, Kansas City BBQ where we had to catch a 10pm performance of Maverick & Goose lamenting about loving feelings. Sadly my cravings for BBQ were smacked down by our vegan captain who speedily passed out shots of night train and got us on our way. But not fast enough to miss meeting our new friend "suzanne" who liked to dance.

We had come to our final mission, if we so chose to accept it, which our judge urged us to do, disdainfully reminding us of our prudish ways in Tijuana only hours before. Our final stop required walking miles across downtown to the trendy W bar where we were to try to convince the doormen to allow our motley crew into the roof beach bar. No problem! Holly striped down to her tube top and all of a sudden seemed to be wearing make-up and I, already in black, used my girlish charm and thirst for more points to talk our way upstairs into what turned out to be a private 30th birthday party. The very large bouncer was a true team player and as soon as I told him how many points each shot was worth, he caved. 8 kamikazies and 45 points later, we were on our way back to the final destination.

All 4 teams converged on the Casbah at midnight for final drinks and revelries. Hank announced the winners. Shouts of both glee and shame were heard around the room, but mostly we were all just drunk and happy to have survived the 12 hour day with no more than a few scratches and a barely noticeable limp. Holly and I did receive a special flower for outstanding levels of prudishness in Tijuana from Hank. We are not sure what he gave the less chaste teams...but I am sure it will end up on u-tube.

It's agreed, the second annual great american trolly race took San Diego by storm on February 16, 2008. Team blackout did not however, but as I sit here with my residual headache, running my fingers across the official "GATR 2 Blackout" tattoo I was lovingly coerced into and lamenting the loss of my green fleece hat, I am certain we played our A-game and team spirit was exceptional. Go Blackouts!