Guess what I’ll be doing Dec 6th, 2009. No really, guess. I’ll wait.
No, I will not be dressing up as Mrs. Claus and handing out candy. Nor will I be on an airplane to Singapore. These are crappy guesses, people.
That’s right. Mom and I went to see Whip It on Sunday, and now I have decided that I will join a roller derby team if it kills me. Which it may. I’m a little scared, so I made a pros and cons list.
In college I played rugby for a semester. We went to a tournament called the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre – and I walked away with half inch deep holes in my ass from some 200 pound chick’s rugby spikes. She apparently thought that she’d dropped a lit cigarette on me, maybe? That’s the only explanation I can think of for her grinding her shoe into my bare behind that doesn’t involved her being a psychopath. I have a sneaking suspicion that derby girls may be sort of like rugby girls. Which is to say – mean and big. I could be wrong.
I have to buy skates and they’re kind of expensive. As are pads and helmets.
I’m not actually sure that I ever knew how to skate.
I’m so out of balance that I don’t take escalators unless I have no other choice…. but that probably won’t matter, right?
The names (Abbie Cadabra, Bettie Trouble, Little Bunnie Voodoo, Petite Deceit, and seven billion more).
The awesomeness of being able to roller skate.
The bruises. Yes, I know that’s fucked up, but I like a good bruise when it’s earned.
How tough it would make me sound.
Um… fun? I mean, it must be fun. Otherwise why would they do it? Right? Infallible logic.
There ya go. 7 pros and only 4 cons. And the cons can truly be boiled down into 1: “I may die”. See? 1 vs. 7. No brainer.
Now all I need is a roller derby name. What were my rapper names again?