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You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for the ‘they let me on skates?’ Category

I think we’re alone now…

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010

I’m back! Sort of. There’s a slight possibility I may have just fallen asleep at my desk for a few minutes, and I’m sending all my calls to voicemail to avoid making my throat hurt any worse than it already does – but I’m back nonetheless.

(Lest you holler ‘but Emma! Don’t make your coworkers sick!’, rest assured that I have now been on antibiotics for 48 hours and am therefore likely not contagious. Also, my company culture is such that attendance trumps illness.)

So anyway, what pearls of wisdom do I have to share with you today? Aside from my apparent and hopefully temporary penchant for high falutin’ language like ‘penchant’ and ‘pearls of wisdom’, that is?

You may have noticed a slight ruckus regarding a comment on my last post. My beloved friend Star and our friend Beauty Queen are both still playing derby (although Beauty Queen is taking some time off-skates in order to guarantee that she’ll be unbroken for her upcoming honeymoon). When we were all at the bout this last Saturday night, Star and Beauty Queen decided to become derby wives.

From the Ohio Roller Girls website:

A derby wife is quite simply this –

She is the one person in this whole sport of roller derby that the very instant you looked at her, you felt like you’d known her since you were a fetus. She looked just like your best friend from fifth grade, or something she did reminded you of all the things you ever liked in anyone else.
She is the first person you’d call if you ever need to get bailed out of jail. (Or in my case, ever need to have an entire legal crusade started in your name.)
She’s the one who will be holding back your hair when you puke after drinking too much, and she won’t let anyone take your picture while doing it.
She’ll ride in the ambulance with you when you lose a tooth, break your wrist, or tear your ACL. She’ll make you laugh the whole way to the hospital, try to steal your pain medication (lovingly), and sneak your favorite food and a beer into recovery.
She’ll make her actual husband understand that if he loves her, he’s gonna have to put up with you, too, no matter how many times you come over forcing him to revisit all the derby-related shows on his Tivo that you missed.
She may not even be your best friend in the league or the sport, but she’d be the one you know will be the first one to back you up, even if you’re dead wrong. She’ll just tell you you’ve lost your f#$king mind later in private, possibly kick your ass a little bit, and then be the only one who could ever talk your hotheaded ass into some reason.
If you can find more than one derby wife who can meet those needs, then you are lucky indeed, but myself? I’m a one derby wife gal.

Are you jealous? Because seriously, I was jealous. Like, really jealous.

Then, on Sunday, Star proposed to me. She wasn’t able to find a ring in time, so she was sort of a slacker about it, but I seem to be the kind of girl who attracts non-traditional proposals anyway, so I wasn’t insulted.


A real life derby wife engagement ring, via Etsy.

Anyway, Star is now my derby fiancée, which is as close to derby wives as a skater and a ref can get.

However, since that basically means Star is two-timing Beauty Queen, and because me and Beauty Queen love each other too, I’m now Beauty Queen’s derby mistress.

Got it? I hope so.

I realize this seems a little silly, but I do just adore these girls. I’m not traditionally great with female friendships. I don’t tend to do well with the maintenance they involve – not answering my phone is one of my greatest pleasures in life, and I’m notoriously stingy with my time. Add that to the fact that I have been known to inadvertently steal boyfriends (yeah, whoops), and I’m not everyone’s favorite girlfriend.

I have my mom and Crockett, and they are truly my best friends, but I have been looking for girls like Star and Beauty Queen for a long time.

Star is insanely fun. She made me a crown shaped birthday cake after having known me for a only a month, and she keeps me entertained all day long via IM. We have an entire storyline involving Saltine crumbs living in the internet and being her adoring fans. She is the best kind of silly and I don’t remember what I used to do all day before I met her.

Beauty Queen is gorgeously caring. As I mentioned, she is getting married soon, and her excitement over it is possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen. She is vegetarian and sometimes vegan, she takes amazing care of her soon-to-be stepchildren, and she is always always there when I want to say something serious. AND she spent hours talking to me about makeup, and is going to give me a makeover as soon as we both have some free time (i.e. sometime in September, probably).

Really, even though derby broke my tailbone, my knee, and occasionally my spirits, I could not be happier that I gave it a shot. Because derby girls are awesome (even if they choose to derby marry each other and not me).

I’m going back to bed now. Under my desk, if necessary.

the bee does quickly sting

Friday, February 19th, 2010

It’s that time again.


I’m a little slap happy, and it’s only 10 am. That probably does not bode well for the rest of the day, but it’s Friday and it has been a long and bad week. Sometimes slap happy is better than crying under my desk, ya know?

Anyway, it’s time to check in on my resolutions!

1) Not getting sick.

Well, I had a headache the other night, and today I have the sniffleus (which is my derby bestie Star’s way of spelling sniffles that makes me laugh every time I look at it – it simultaneously reminds me of Snuffleupagus and syphilis). Neither of those really count though, cause headaches are their own category and sniffleus in February are pretty much de riguer, right? So resolution 1: A.

2) Stop obsessing over cutting my damn hair.

Totally done. I haven’t thought about cutting it once.

Of course, I have seriously considered dying it grey. Or at least part of it. Grey is IN, baby. Resolution 2: C.

If it's good enough for Tavi, it's good enough for me!

3) Stop buying non-consumables.

AHhahahahahahahahah. Ahhaha. Hahah. Sob. Resolution 3: F.

4) Blog a minimum of five days a week.

I have been rocking this one like a crack addict rocks the rock. Or is the rock a meth thing? You understand what I’m trying to say, anyway. Resolution 4: A+.

5) Work on building strong friendships with women.

Let’s see. So far, I have gotten myself some GREAT new friends via derby, and lost at least one friend due to, as far as I can tell, scheduling conflicts. Yes, that’s a stupid reason. Somehow telling her that doesn’t seem to be helping.

My new derby friends are fan-fucking-tastic though. Witness:

emma: the roof of my mouth itches. how is that even possible

Star: That is the worst feeling ever

emma: that should be an itchfree zone

Star: agreed. also the bottom of your foot while driving

emma: oh hells yeah

Star: do you think if we started a grass-roots campaign to eliminate bottom of foot and roof of mouth itch we could get biology to listen?

emma: LOL

Nothing like a little ‘fuck you biology’ conversation to help the work day speed by. Resolution 5: B.

6) Perfect a photo ready smile.

Yeah, that's going SUPER well.

Resolution 6: D.

7) Be a grown up when it matters, and don’t when it doesn’t.

Eh. This one, as I anticipated, is the hardest. Deciding to quit derby was me being a grown up. Other things, not so much. Day by day, people. Resolution 7: ungraded, as grading myself on this particular resolution feels childish. (See what I did there? Heehee.)

Average: B-.

Could be worse. I’m going to buy myself a present to reward myself! We’ll worry about what that does to my resolution GPA next month.

quitter le froc

Wednesday, February 17th, 2010

Ok, when you read this, please don’t be disappointed in me.

Roller derby is SO FUCKING COOL. I mean, it is amazing.

First, it’s a serious sport. If you thought it was about short shorts and girl on girl action, you’re not completely wrong, so if you’re planning on going to see it for that reason don’t let me stop you. But more than that, it’s about technique and strength and speed and lots and lots and lots of practice.

Second, it’s a sisterhood. Not only do you need to be sisters when you’re on skates, to anticipate and protect and assist, you automatically become sisters off skates. When I look at my 30+ new facebook friends on derby, their pages (and mine) are at least half derby, all the time. There’s even a VIDEO that a derby husband made about the sisterhood within our league.

Also, the clothes are pretty fab. Have you seen the shorts and tights my mom bought me for my birthday? No?

(Yeah, I just posted a picture of my ass on the internet. Everything my father warned me about has now come to pass – BLOGGING IS A GATEWAY DRUG, PEOPLE.)

So, speaking of derby, in case you haven’t yet seen where this is going… I’m quitting.

I have good reasons for quitting. My knee is ten kinds of fucked up, I’m smaller than everyone else and wussy about it, and my skates are missing. A stronger woman than I would power through – everyone who starts derby from scratch goes through some equivalent of this, but I am not that woman.

Here’s the thing. I like to try things before I decide they’re not for me. That makes sense, right? I mean, if I’d decided to try out for derby and then wussed out at or after the try-outs, wouldn’t I spend the rest of my life wondering if it woulda been my thing? That thing that I was insanely passionate about, that would help me mentally define myself?

I also tried out being an engineer. And a pastry chef. And working in manufacturing, and working in sales, playing rugby, and managing a small business. I like to thank my explorations in those areas for my analytical mind, my delicious cupcakes, my understanding of process, my willingness to fall down, and my ability to get strangers to do what I want. I wasn’t passionate about any of them, which is why I’m all corporate now. If you’re going to be neutral about your job, pick one that pays well (words of wisdom, courtesy of me).

I paint (sometimes). I write, obviously, but not in any way that makes a difference in the world or in my life. I have managed to keep several orchids alive. I’m not freakishly passionate about any of that, either, although I certainly enjoy it.

I am passionate about my puppies. I am passionate about Crockett (formerly known as ‘the boy’). I am passionate about my little dollhouse of a house, and I am passionate about the men and women that I love. I am passionate about running – maybe not competitively, but as a daily version of meditation.

I wanted so badly to be nuts about derby, but I’m not. I know there’s a possibility that I would like the actual playing more as I got better at it – maybe that’s more than a possibility, maybe it’s a for sure, but honestly I don’t really care. I want to hang out with my girls; I want to hang out with my mom and Crockett and my girlfriends; I want to re-read all of Robert B. Parker and Dick Francis (RIP); I want to heal enough to start running again.

I hope derby appreciated having me, albeit for not very long, because I certainly appreciated them letting me in. I will keep the clothes, for sure, and I’m hoping against hope that I’ll get to keep at least some of the girlfriends. (Ladies, if you’re reading this, DON’T LEAVE ME!!!)

You don’t really know me, my internets loves, and yet I’m worried that you’re going to judge me for this. I am judging myself. But it turns out I wanted to be a derby girl more than I wanted to play derby, and there are plenty of girls out there who want to do both. I bow to them.


Sunday, January 24th, 2010

If this proves to be a good idea, I’m going to start uploading a Sunday Talky in place of my previous Sunday Best posts.  If it proves to be a bad idea, I… won’t.

Also, do I really smack my lips like that when I talk, or is that a function of being videotaped? I’m hoping for the latter.

the tiniest sprinter is a party pooper

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

tiniest sprinter: so how’s the butt?

emma: achy. i think it’s broken.

tiniest sprinter: whaaa? what does that mean? can you still do stuff? we’re talking tailbone here, right?

emma: yeah. tailbone. i think i broke it because the symptoms of bruising are different. it hurts when i sit on it. but not actually more than when i’m not sitting on it. its hard to explain. but i think it’s broken.

tiniest sprinter: i’ve heard they don’t DO anything for it if it’s broken anyway, though, right?

emma: right. maybe tell me to stop skating. and fuck that shit.

tiniest sprinter: you should have the tailbone removed!

emma: i was talking about that last night. and either get it replaced with titanium so i can mess some girls up. or some floppy polymer so i’m all bendy.

tiniest sprinter: or just removed. i doubt it does anything.

emma: ok but imagine if it was titanium. and i could put thread on there and then get a titanium tail and screw it on and off whenever i wanted.

tiniest sprinter: gross. the tail would come out from between your butt cheeks.

emma: wow you are just a serious party pooper today