Sunday, May 29, 2011

5 Things that Chap My Hide

  1. Foaming soap that does not foam, but splooges into your hand like half-rabid Smeagol spit.

  2. Salmonheads who refuse to stand aside to let the people get off the subway before they push their way onto the subway. Way to create a completely unnecessary melee of full-frontal collisions! I paid to ride the E train, not participate in a fucking sumo wresting pick up game. Luckily, I’ve noticed the culprits are inevitably a squad of fat girls in bedazzled shooties so you can always stomp on their toes.

  3. People who fancy themselves stoic and warrior-like yet suffer from frequent episodes of quiet whimpering and resolutely do nothing to attenuate their tragic contretemps, which may or may not involve the 1 train, movie selections and/or vegetarian tacos.

  4. Citizens on a crowded escalator who stand to the left like solid walls of ass barricading those of us with places to go, people to see attempting to hurry past them.

  5. Multi-packs of toilet paper sold on that look normal in the pictures but are actually sized about right for a barbie dream house or an aborigine powder room. Are you kidding me? I clutched a 12-pack of double ply in one shaking fist. Read the fine print, wary consumers because images may not be shown to scale on

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Game on Gotham Girls Roller Derby Girls!

As a rule, I do not enjoy watching women’s sports. I do not enjoy watching any sports, even those involving tight pants on hotties. Retract that. If there was a sport involving tight pants and hotties, I would probably watch it, but only if the competition somehow involved swordplay, vampires, a fire pit, and dramatic lighting. There would probably also need to be a backstory around avenging unbridled malice.

But yesterday, I went all mercurial, if you will. My heretofore repugnance for sitting in a gym shattered in a gritty sweat-drenched pile up of pleated mini-skirts. Plus one of the jeerleaders threw a mini-Snickers right at my head which has possibly impaired my judgement.

The evening began thriftily enough. Tom and I squeezed every red cent out of our Metro cards on a train ride to Harlem. I felt like we got a lot of distance for our $2.25. We were en route to spectate the Gotham Girls Roller Derby: Bronx Gridlock vs Brooklyn Bombshells.

I decided to cheer for the Bronx, given it’s my pop’s hometown and all. At first, I wondered if I would regret my decision to honor my family heritage. The Brooklyn girls had much cuter outfits and a buxom, tattooed jeerleader skating around with a large tugboat strapped about her midsection. I realized I could probably desert to Brooklyn without too big a ding to my integrity because my grandfather worked at the Brooklyn Navy Yard and he drove a tug boat during WWII. Ultimately, I decided to stand tall and stick with my original Bronx allegiance. This was lucky as it turned out, because the Bronx won 127ish to a score less than that.

This roller derby business is all about unsportsmanlike conduct. Chicks with robust tattoos skate really really fast around this short track wonderworking some enviable hip checks. If I knew anything at all about rugby, I might say it reminded me of rugby. There is a lot of emphasis on fanged mouthguards.

The object of the game is to get your girl in the back of the pack up to the front faster than the opposing team. I think there is a lot of strategy involved, for example, it would appear to be good mojo to stack the middle of the pack with a wall of six-footer linebacker girls who can pull your arms off your body. Other competitor must-haves included a cocksure attitude, quadriceps strength, an ability to shake off wee kidney injuries, and an intimidating name like Bitch Cassidy, Anne Phetamean, Megahurtz or Tough Muffin.

Next bout is on June 4 and I do believe we’ll be there!