May 252010
 

You Should See the Other Blocker!

I feel that this post is long overdue!  Ladies, feel free to print out these instructions and pass them out to your boyfriends, husbands, fiances.  I will probably post several installments!

Dating a rollergirl is not for the faint of heart, gentlemen.  There are intolerable things that you will be forced to put up with:  your girl smells. She smells BAAAAD. She has lots of friends, LOTS of them; and they all smell bad too. Her hobby is expensive—we can spend more money on SHIT than you would ever believe (It’s true!). Roller derby is evolving faster than DELL. She’s always covered in unsightly bruises, and you will probably catch some scathing glances from restaurant patrons when they catch a glimpse of her battered biceps.

But there are plenty of perks that go along with dating a rollergirl too: chances are your old lady has the sweetest ass on the block. Chances are your old lady has the meanest BLOCK on the block, too. You get the bragging rights of dating the Tri-State Leg Wrestling Champion. She’s the closest thing you’ll ever meet to Wonder Woman, and your old lady has her own old lady. How cool is that!

So, here are a few tips to keep your Warrior Woman happy:

1—Don’t EVER say, “Dude, I totally saw you bust your ass out there” or any variation of that phrase.  I just knocked down eight people BEFORE I busted my ass, so how ‘bout you point that out.

2—Please don’t bitch about the smell!  I know I stink. I can smell myself. People recoil and visibly wretch when I walk into the gas station after practice.  I really don’t need you to point out that I stink after every bout, practice, dryland, etc.

3—Forget the flowers. Bearings are a girls best friend—expensive ones, that come in tiny red boxes adorned with white crosses.

4—Compliment me on my ass, a lot!  Flattery will get you everywhere!  I worked hard on that thing. It’s nice to know you appreciate it.

5—If you’re going to get mad when I don’t pay attention to you at practice, don’t come.  I don’t hang out at the gym while you and your boys pump iron, then get pissed off ‘cause you’re too busy giving yourself a hernia doing leg presses to pay attention to me.  You don’t go to the gym to hang out with me! I don’t go to practice to hang out with you!

6—I’m on a high protein diet!  Stay the fuck out of my beef jerky!

7—If we win, tell me how awesome I was.

8—If we lose, TELL ME HOW AWESOME I WAS!!!  Now is not the time to bring up the fact that I accidentally took out my own jammer during the last jam when we were down by six points.

These are just a few simple suggestions that really will make your lives easier, guys.  And remember, the way to a rollergirl’s heart is ATOM!

Photo Credits:  dailymail.co.uk, bonesbearings.com

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Apr 192010
 

Day three started with me running late. As usual. When, thank god, this hot bitch offered me a ride in the lobby of my hotel. Who would say no? She’s Estro Jen of the Angel City Derby Girls and holder of the title Best Ass In Roller Derby. I know I promised a close up, but I don’t really know her that well, so just make do with this candid and I’ll work on it, alright? Anyways, before we got in the car she warned me that it might be dangerous. It kinda was, but I enjoyed her enthusiastic careening through parking lots in search of espresso. It was a fitting way to start the morning. Plus, it gave me a chance to get to know the Estro behind the ass. Turns out she runs a skate shop in Long Beach, CA called Moxi. And…(wait for it) she wants to write about gear for LDG! Which is a gift to the world, because this chic really knows her shit. Because of her I bought harder wheels, and it was a totally fucking revelation (See below). No, but really. She also taught me a lot about toe stops and truck length and other stuff I can’t really use yet because I’m a) broke and b) too new to know the difference but that will come in handy down the derby brick road. And, she’s totally releasing her own line of lifestyle skates with Reidell like pronto. Skates with leopard spots and zebra stripes for street skating. With little ruffled hot shorts to match. No shit.

After Estro graciously delivered me to Camp, I went to her Beginner’s workshop on Skating Skills. The first half dealt almost completely with stops. Turns out my plow stop was all wrong. I’ve been making a full, two-legged snowplow like a skier, but really you’re supposed to push one leg out and keep the weight on the other. It looks almost the same, but not quite, and the benefit of doing this is that if you have your weight over one leg, you can use that to push back off again. If you have both your legs completely spread, your weight is in between your legs, and you have no power to move. You just gotta step. The we worked on transitioning from forwards to backwards which is something I really suck at. But she had us get in partners and, using the stability of another skater, I improved quickly. Only on one side, but hey, it’s a fucking start.

Then I shuffled off to Pivoting with Gingersnap. Have I mentioned how rad this chic is? Seriously, though. We did the whole class with our mouthguards in. Why? Cuz pivots gotta talk while they’re wearing mouthguards. Duh. We did some waterfalling drills and she made us keep screaming. We talked a lot about what the pivot actually does. Snap’s take on things is basically that every blocker needs to be communicating as well as the pivot, and that besides the whole star passing thing, the pivot is just another blocker. We got in lines and practiced rotating around a partner. We packed up and practiced rotating to the front. All the while screaming and touching. We did a lot of screaming and a lot of touching and a lot of rotating, and I feel a little more nimble about how I move through the pack and a lot more comfortable screaming. And I learned some things about the three second rule. Like how to get around it. Like you can press wrist to wrist and as long as the jammer isn’t trying to break through that, you’re good. I really want to hear a debate about the three second rule, though, cuz there’s a lot of ideas about it and people don’t seem to agree.

At some point I took a break and bought new wheels. They’re Atom Jukes, and I’m totally in love. I got a good deal on them from Gino at Lead Jammer Skates, who is personable and also really knows his shit. He totally talked me down from buying the expensive bearings and the Heartless wheels. I decided on these because I wanted something a little harder than what I skate on now (Sugars), but still pretty grippy. They’re wide, so they’ve got a lot of stability, which is important to new bitches like me. After all this retail therapy I really needed a nap to rest up for Team Thunder practice. Obviously.

I was exhausted but exhilarated during practice. We warmed up for a few, and then scrimmaged against Team Blood. We were playing a lot better than the day before, since we all knew each other a little better and all that shit. Quad let me jam, and even though I totally bit, it was fun, and I learned a lot in that one jam. Like about this whole “friendly side” side thing Quad is always talking about. He means that if you’re jamming and you come up on a pair made up of your teammate and someone from the other team, you gotta go on the friendly side, or the side of your team mate. Sounds obvious, but sometimes the hole on the other side looks bigger, no? Doesn’t matter. Cuz when your teammate starts banging that other bitch around, that hole is gonna close up and you aren’t going to have the benefit of grabbing on to that girl who aint your friend for an assist.

More rest. Or something like it. And then it’s go time. Bout time. Team Thunder vs. Team Blood and I am freaking pumped. Warm up was rad cuz Quad was skating with us, and just having him on our tail was a major motivation. Then shit got real. I already told y’all about our badass jammer On ‘Da Sligh. She was totally running shit. And we had this other jammer, a leggy blonde who’s name I can’t remember and who I just call Shameless, who was like Jane Be Nimble. But we weren’t keeping it together that well as a pack, and I was really sucking. Yeah, I was tired and sore and shit, but honestly, I was just out of my league. Every girl on both teams had been skating longer and better than me for the most part, and I was in the penalty box three times to pay for my lack of experience. And we lost. But I don’t give a shit, because it was fun and I learned a lot, and even though he must have been mad disappointed in me, Quad was still cool with me after. Yay Coach Quad, you fucking rule.

The after party was at a hilarious bar called the Horse & Cow. I was taken there by a carload of Canadians listening to Rick Astley, I shit you not. If I had never gotten out of the car, it would have been a great night. But then there was an amazing explosion of drunken rollergirls. And Navy dudes straight from a ball with girls in long dresses. And locals. WTF? Seriously, it was the most hilarious  crowd, and even thought the DJ sucked and played Bad Romance no less than three times I still danced my ass off. Did I mention there was a stripper pole? Oh, wait. Actually there were two.

Read about Day 1.
Read about Day 2.
Read about Day 3.
Read about Day 4.

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