Derby-licious!

You'd think that a seven hour drive into the desert of Arizona would be a foolish way to start a weekend. You'd be very very wrong. It was like traveling through a Martian Landscape. Red hills and mountains, gigantic cacti instead of trees. I think the entire experience could've only been more fun if we'd been able to pick up the hitch-hiking ghost of Jim Morrison on our way into Tucson. However, without Peyote, this was not likely to happen. Giggles and I were on a mission. We were there to meet the Town Bikes and to watch tough chicks slap the crap out of each other while rolling around wearing skates, short retro skirt uniforms and fishnet stockings. This was a mission we could not fail.

We promptly arrived at the Tucson Roller Derby and got our complimentary tickets thanks to the lovely and talented Town Bikes. I love comp tickets. They make people look at you like you're somebody important, which clearly I am. I must be. "I have complimentary tickets, don't I?!" The Derby was the final match of the Tucson Roller Derby season, winner take all and. And by "all" I mean cute little rollerskate shaped trophies. The Iron Curtain lead by the jamming and pivoting efforts of Whamma Pavlova and Kay G.B. racked up an early lead, but the Furious Truckstop Waitress had a few tricks up their aprons and rallied back behind the dynamic duo of Fisti Cuffs (Winner of the Best Ass category at least on my ballet) and Sloppy Flo the lean mean jamming machine and won the championship. The delicate mixture of sport, violence, pageantry, short skirts, comedy, retro flair and girlsweat combined to make a sweet cocktail of entertainment that was anxiously guzzled down by the crowd. The intoxicated crowd was a glorious mix of old dudes, young kids, butch fifty year old women, hipster teens, stoner 20 somethings. The only unifying physical features of the crowd were their blatant love of tattoos. Unless I am sentenced to a jail time at womens' prison or perhaps sent to a biker ralley, I will never again see that tattooed women in my lifetime. I will post some pictures ASAP. But just image grown women costumed women knocking the stuffing out of each other at thirty+ miles and hour with an eight-year-old kid, with long blue hair holding up his homemade "Communists are Cool" banner in the background. I swear I wish that crowd had been voting on our presidential election.

The one little hiccup to the road trip was that krankiboy left his wallet back in L.A. Yes, I'm referring to myself in the third person even though I'm not a mobster, athlete or televangelist. It's my blog so I can dream of one day being all three. That would be tight. So I was able to talk my way into a bar on Friday night, but Saturday the girl at the door wasn't going to let me in if shit out a diamond necklace on a velvet pillow. I tried and tried to use my "charm." (Mostly I just begged her and said "pretty please" a lot. Then I tried to get in the back way, but of course I didn't have a stamp. It was pretty clear when I couldn't get my friend's stamp to even smear onto my wrist that I would not be enjoying drinks and merriment with the Town Bikes, the rugged yet feminine Derby combatants. The Surly Wench Tavern was true to it's name, and I sort of respect them for that. So my new found friends kindly ganged up and beat the living shit out of the girl at the door. Kicking her over and over in the head with their blood drenched skates. No... we went to Bob Log's Cabin and had a mini house party. After some consoling from Gabi "Town Bike" Barton and a few strong drinks, I was in a jovial mood once again. While nobody was particularly dazzled by my display of novice nunchucks skills, my patented impression of a Squirrel Giving a Blow Job reaffirmed my status as a comedic idiot-savant. Emphasis on the idiot. I also expanded my knowledge of highly offensive Australian slang. And yesterday I got the cherry placed atop my Rollerderby Sundae when Kim Sin told me that they're going to use my catch phrase at the future Tucson Roller Derby brawls. "Let's get down and derby!" So, at the end of the rainbow there is a reward to 14 hours of driving through the dessert.