Talking Derby

Question: Did I spend most of my weekend watching Gilmore Girls and eating butter cookies?
Answer: Did you REALLY need to ask that?

Question: Did I also have a rockin' weekend?
Answer: Why yes! Yes I did!

On Saturday I had an awesome date night with Joe, which you do not need to hear about EXCEPT for the fact that I have learned something viciously important to your lives: Nutella-flavored things are disappointing--HEAR ME OUT! Please, everyone, put down your pitchforks and your barraging tree trunks. Now, obviously, Nutella in the raw is the single greatest thing in existence. But Nutella cheesecake? Just tastes like chocolate cheesecake. It's a sad, harsh reality to just have thrown upon you, I know. But those are the facts. And sooner or later, you're just going to have to face them.

But enough with such trivialities!
For a solid fourteen-or-so hours now, I have had a whole new take on life, Nutella be damned (Yeah, I said it. WHAT.) Guys. I am in love with the roller derby.



Ever since my time as a tomboy, I have longed for such a lifestyle. My inner self actually has a slim, boyish figure, short, wind-swept blue hair, and tattoos up and down my arms. Of what? I don't know. But there they are.

I never really embraced my badass, blue-haired tomboyness, though. For one thing, I am not actually badass at all (see previous Gilmore statement.) Also, I just don't have the strong jaw/flat chest combination that I feel the look truly requires.

But yesterday I saw my first roller derby, and it has given me new hope for my inner blue hair.

First of all, these girls wear spankies. And I'm sorry, but I would look HOT whipping through time and space in a pair of those bad boys. What can I say? I've got good legs. Even if I gained 50 pounds, my legs would still be nice. Granted, I would look like a giant potato on toothpicks, but for some reason, the legs would still be intact. Thanks, genetics!

Secondly, cool names. In roller derby, you get to have a hardcore, kick ass new name! All you do is take your name and you use a pun to make yourself sound totally badass. Like Juanna Rumbel, Mel Content, or Zombea Arthur. I haven't quite decided on what mine should be, but I'm leaning toward Emily Killjoy or Death Shepard.

Thirdly, hip checks. So here's how roller derby works: There's an oval rink. Most girls on both teams are in one pack going in one direction. There are two girls in the back who have to fight through the pack and get to the front. They get points for passing girls on the other team. Basically, it's football going in one direction. (...With girls. On skates. In spankies.) So to be good, you've either gotta be wiley and fast and get through a pack of rock star girls, or you've gotta be one of those rock star girls.

I always thought that I would be good at football if a girl's team existed (do NOT suggest "Powderpuff" to me unless you want a knee to the groin.) I considered for one second joining girls' rugby in college, but I didn't like the idea of no padding and flesh being bitten off. But roller derby! Roller derby is my calling! There are hip checks AND elbow pads! There's light pushing! There's butt bumping! There's the speed of skates without the instability of aligned wheels! And there are girls with tattoos on their thighs! I could be one of those girls!

I've been loosely researching derby things all morning now--where rinks are, how to get in, blue hair dye...most likely I'll put Whip It into my Netflix queue and call it a day. But there is a chance I will actually put my mind to something for once. Granted, I haven't been on a real sports team since tee ball in the first grade. But maybe this is my second chance at tomboyness! You know, in a...spankies and cleavage kind of way.