Roller Derby Queen

Ahhh, the sweet solitude of a quiet day spent in boxers on the computer. I had expected to have a nice juicy rant about the neighbors for today - they had warned us (for a change) that not only were they having a party this weekend, it was to feature members of the local djimbe group - yes, really - but that they'd be done by nine, which of course I was anticipating would really be more like 1:30. So then we figured we'd head out to see Hot Fuzz that night, except H, it turns out, is actually serious about joining the flat-track roller derby league they're starting up here, and wanted to attend another scrimmage that night. Long, mundane story short, the neighbors wound up making absolutely no noise whatsoever that night, H had ordered her roller skates - which, sadly, will not look like these - and I spent my Saturday night with Meat Fest, a beef and bean dip thingee I tend to make whenever H is not around.

H gets home around 9:30 or so, and it's too late to go downtown for a movie at that point - *sigh* I am so old - so I spent the evening farting around on the web, and discovered that the resurgence of women's' roller derby has moved much faster and further than I had realized. H has been talking about starting out as a referee, but from looking at some of the images online, I have to say that if you're gonna do this, you really ought to go all the way, and after my original 48 hours of doubt ("Really? We should add that to the list of things we never tell Grandma.") I find myself wholeheartedly encouraging her to join as a skater. Throw on the fishnets, break some bones (hopefully someone else's) knock 'em dead. What do I do, you ask? I drink beer at the pub. Hell, I know I couldn't do this.

And if the wankers downstairs do decide to have their silly goatskin slapping party run late some night, HellKat or whatever she'll call herself (admit it, roller girls have the best names) can go down there and kick their asses.