I had hoped for a nice, relaxing weekend.
The plan was to drive up to Sacoftomatoes, show off the new car to mom and dad, hang out with some artist friends for an evening, go to Oakland Saturday night to check out the BAD girls bout, and then drive back to LA and maybe catch the casual bout that the Derby Dolls have scheduled for Sunday afternoon.
It was a nice plan. I liked that plan. It would've been great. However, it's not to be.
Instead, I'm staying in town, because the casual bout ain't so freakin' casual now. It's a full-on production...the only thing missing is a half-time live band. The rest is there...the uniforms, the DJ, the PA system, the scorecard girls, the many referees, the stats guy, security, the intro music for each team, vendor booths, El Pollo Loco, a bake sale, raffle, and incessant advertising on MySpace, a couple of Orange County newspaper interviews, and a live plug on the aforementioned evil radio station Indie 103 Friday afternoon during the rush hour drive home.
Oh wait, the other main thing missing from this bout is our coach. He's on "vacation" for the month. Fucking bastard. His timing on this wasn't accidental. Which pisses me off. That's another story, though.
Back to the whining at hand...since the coach also was the main rules guy and head referee along with running all our practices, we've had to find a replacement for him. This week that's fallen to me and fellow captain, Puncherello. You know what? Pimpin' ain't easy, and neither is reffing for a damn roller derby league.
Have I mentioned how fucking much I'm burned out after the whole SXSW funfest? And that I needed a break? Yes, I believe I have. Ad nauseam. With an emphasis on the damn nauseam.
Can I go take a damn nap now? Please?
Now enjoy the doodle of a bunny killing a baby: