Roller Derby, bitches!!

Which could mean "I went to roller derby, bitches!" Or, it could mean "the girls in roller derby are bad-ass bitches!" Either or. Both would be true statements.

Yep. Saturday night, I went to roller derby. Yes, you heard me, roller derby. No, we did not suddenly get transported back into the 70s, in case you were worried there for a minute. I went with P.I.C. (which is “partner in crime” for those of you wondering) and The Bad Cop. He’s not a cop, but he is good to have around when oh, I don’t know, SOMEBODY gets drunk and tries to start a bar fight. Not me, just so you know. Plus, when I told him he needed a blog nickname, that's what he wanted. Who am I to deny a man his nickname?

We started out at the house of one of P.I.C.’s co-workers at about 4:30 – for appetizers and drinks. Mostly drinks. There was beer and tequila, but also, there were drinks in the spirit of the event. We had Boone’s Farm and Mad Dog 20/20 in a paper bag. For real. It was like college all over again! Although I CAN say that this was the first time I've ever drank something out of a paper bag. I managed to finish off the Boone’s in the car on the way to the bout (I think one other person got a glass, and then I just drank it out of the bottle – yes, I realize I epitomize class). Someone got the idea that we should accessorize, and so we all got items from the Halloween closet. P.I.C had on a black Joan Jett wig, complete with rat tail, The Bad Cop had on a lei with a “thuper” matching bracelet, and I had on a tiara. There were also feather boas, Elvira wigs, and a guy wearing a vest and boa with no shirt. We were stylin’.

Here’s where I don’t explain the rules of roller derby. Because I don’t understand them. And frankly, it just took too much energy to try and figure out. It was explained in the program, but my reading skills had rapidly deteriorated, along with my attention span. Basically some big tattooed girls in short skirts and fishnets and roller skates skate around and around the track and try to keep the other team from scoring by knocking each other around. I just cheered when everyone else did. Our team won though –the score was 90-62. Not that I probably actually saw any of the points being scored. I'm the best fan EVER!

The best word to describe it is “spectacle” – it was a total spectacle. Like nothing I’d ever seen. First of all, they let you bring in your own alcohol, even though they sell beer there. Pabst – heh. And others. Second, there are no “seats”. You sit or stand right next to the track and try not to get your beverage spilled when a chick comes crashing into you I’ve never seen so much fishnet in one place. Even the refs had it on. There was this guy with a crown who stood by “The Wheel of Death” and danced around in a black kind of unitard wearing a crown. Hey, I'd explain if I understood. But that was part of the gloriousness of it. By the way, “The Wheel of Death” is something the girls spin when they get a penalty and it determines what their penalty is. Like one time, there was a tug-of-war – stuff like that.

I know, I know, the details are sketchy. Part of that is due to the drinking, and part of that is due to what P.I.C. referred to as “The Corona Incident.” See, I was on my way to the bathroom, when I noticed that this guy had a bucket of Coronas. YUM. I asked him where he got them and he said they sold them at the bar upstairs. I decided that that was too far to walk, and instead told him he should share with me. It took some chatting and eyelash batting, but I got my Corona. He asked me if we were going to the after party (which we were) and he’s like “you should give me your number so I can find you there.” Um, no. So I told him I didn’t have my phone with me. His obnoxious best friend (who was engaged and yet trying to hook up with about three different girls) was like “give me your number so we can call it and see if you’re lying.” Whatever – I wasn’t drunk enough to be like “ok” and also I’ve learned from the LAST time some stranger asked for my number, so I gave him a fake. He called it and was like “this isn’t even her number – it’s some dude’s voice mail” and I played dumb and managed to distract them enough so they forgot about it. By then, I’d been gone a long time, and P.I.C. and The Bad Cop were wondering where I was, until they spotted me about 10 feet away, drinking a Corona. They were watching and laughing while I sent signals to them behind the guy’s back like “save me” – but oh no. Thanks guys. Chivalry is totally dead. Finally, I was like “uh, I REALLY have to go to the bathroom” and so the Corona Stranger followed me because he had to go too. Allegedly. There was a line at the first bathroom, so I went to the one up front, then doubled back the opposite way and ended up back with my group. Whew.

When the bout was over, P.I.C., The Bad Cop and I were wandering around outside “The Bladium”, deciding what to do. At some point we decided to get a cab back to downtown and go to some bars there. I feel bad for the cab dispatcher, because not only were we all drunk, but we also had no clue where we were. There was a lot of laughing and yelling in the general direction of the phone as we all tried to "help" ascertain our location. We finally got back downtown and our “going to the bars” idea was eclipsed by “I’m really hungry” and so we had pizza. And we did go to another bar, but only to use the bathroom. We wet back to P.I.C.’s and had some more to drink (because CLEARLY we needed to) and hung out. Or passed out. Or both.

I eventually went home at about 3:30 (allowing for daylight savings time, of course) and since I had to get up at seven, seriously debated going to sleep at all. I did, and made it through the day with only a short nap. Today though, not so good. I’m SO TIRED. It was totally worth it, though. Plus, I figure I better make the most of my last two weeks of being in my 20s...