Ugh...

Today is a two-parter...

Work is still stressing me out. I suppose it'll continue to do so for awhile. I haven't been able to relax and just do what I can do, if that makes any sense.

On top of just the work load, I'm feeling very...awkward around a particular individual at work. I don't directly work for this person, but they're in the same general director's offices/storyboard artist cubicle area as myself. I've worked on some the same shows as this person in the past, and failed to introduce myself to them because of said awkwardness. They really put on an air of NOT WANTING TO BE BOTHERED BY THE LIKES OF ME. The awkward part is that apparently this air only applies to me; this person is very nice and friendly to just about everyone else. I'll say hello to this person as we pass each other in the hall...they almost never respond. We have mutual friends and acquaintances, and they all think this person is great in both talent and personality.

So...how do I deal with this?

If it were derby, it'd be comparitively easy...due to close physical proximity and getting the chance to hit the bejeezus out of each other to get out aggression and figure out a groove of where the other person is coming from, a relationship has to be forged where we have to work together to get shit done. Due to being required to work together, we'd find some sort of common ground to work with and not be too annoyed by it at worst, and be friends at best.

But this? I'm already in Full Tilt Awkward And OMG Am I Still In High School? Mode to go up to this person and say, "You know, it's so weird we've never really talked...how you doin'?" because I imagine this person would ignore me or be snide or say nothing is wrong yet the behavior would continue, which would not only make me continue to feel awkward, but then I'd feel like a bigger loser than I already am.

I'm supposed to be a grown up about this type of thing, but I sure as hell don't feel like one.

UGH. I DON'T NEED THIS.


Now let's move on to squeamish...

Apparently last night Kitty got into a fight with a possum over cat food that's left out for Kitty, Blue, and Scaredy Cat to munch on at their leisure. It was a serious enough fight, the Dear Husband went out to the back porch to see what was going on, and was confronted with a very angry Kitty and a very scared possum. Kitty usually is so mellow with us, but mid-fight? He'll cut you. Or at least growl at you.

I missed all that, as I was sleeping and having panicky dreams about work.

This morning as I was on my way out for an early-morning bicycle ride, I look down and see:

What the what?

Oh, a mouse. Missing its hind legs:

Strangely enough, Kitty wasn't around to prance proudly as I muttered under my breath about dumb cats and poor vermin and damn this thing is stiff as a board and yuck! as I scooped up the little corpse into a couple of plastic bags and placed it into the trash bin(thank goodness today was Trash Day!). Of course I would've petted him and told him how awesome he was if he were around.

At least his job is easy.

Farting Around

Work is...WORK. My god, it's taken over my entire existence.

Thank goodness for derby hiatus. Of sorts...

Here's the kinda-rough-but-mostly done artwork for next year's March RADness training camp. Feel free to mark your calendars now:

I'm exhausted...and I have to go to work. And not in an Ulla from The Producers type of way.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA

Just so you know, GirlsDrawinGirls is having an art opening this coming Friday at the TAG gallery in lovely Borebank.

But that's not the funny part.

TAG made a nice post about the show on their blog, and some of the comments both amaze me and make me wonder just how uptight our society is getting when people take offense to the drawing for the poster. Since when do only prepubescent boys draw cute nude women?!

DNN Heckling

Some of my best friends also happen to be some of the best the best hecklers:



Watch live video from bustaarmov on Justin.tv

OK...

Doing better today.

Yay.

But I REALLY fucking hate the new photo uploader here on blogspot. Can't edit worth a damn. But here are some fun photos from Battle on the Bank III last weekend in San Diego. Soooooooooooo much fun! And yes, I jammed. Once. And got heckled MIGHTILY for it by the online announcers. Don't believe me? Watch the game here and prepare to be amused. It was the most fun game of the weekend, and it showed.

Oh, and I caused not one, but two medical call-offs in the game against TXRD on Sunday. You can check out that game here, here and here. That game was also a first for me...I got threatened with expulsion for "pulling down a skater". Which wasn't quite the case. TXRD jammer comes up, I hit her to the high side. She goes falling towards the kickrail, looking like she's going to fly off the track. She grabbed my hand, I grabbed hers. It was definitely mutual, but the refs only see my fat hand. So I got a penalty and a Very Stern Warning. Harrumph. As if I need to grab anyone to take 'em down.

Anyway, I must go take down the work demons now. Enjoy the pix from Stalkerazzi:

So Far, No Good

New job.

It's always a little stressful to start a new job on a new show that holds the hope of becoming a new hit series. It's exceptionally stressful to start said new job the week of a major skating tournament where one is captain of one of the teams participating.

Trying to do team lineups, sit out skaters, bring in skaters, do it with a minimum of butthurt feelings(had about a 60% success rate on that), learn a new drawing style, rethink how I do staging, cutting, acting(without a damn voice track, but the director was asking for acting points anyway), get to practice, get up early to do cross-training, check email constantly throughout the day to make sure I'm getting any and all pertinent information, go to production meetings, meet the intimidatingly-talented artists on the show, relearn the production software, realize that not having a "Save As" option on a program that's used primarily by artists has got to be the worst oversight EVAR, try to get the vibe in the new studio where everyone is there but quiet, feeling lost and not really knowing who I can talk to about getting my bearings...

In short, I'm mind-fucking myself pretty good, and I have to unfuck myself IMMEDIATELY.


I know I can do it, it's a matter of whether I can do it in the nick of time.

Or else I'll be ejected, like I did in one of the games at Battle on the Bank in San Diego this past weekend:

Cranky

Yeah, not exactly a surprise, but I'm cranky.

I feel overwhelmed again. There are a few times when I need someone at my back to help out. To just know that hey, it'd be nice in a partnership to be a partner and Be There. That isn't happening, and it's pissing me the hell off.  Why take on a job that one can't dedicate the time, thought processes and energy to? You can't get much prestige from said job if you fuck it up.

Just sayin'.

OK, got that out of my system for the moment. Below is a doodle I did while watching The Hills. Don't ask me why I was watching such a horrible show. It's a good thing funemployment is now over for me, don't you think?

Hahahahahaha...

Remix of a Derby Dolls intro from Saturday night:




I laughed mightily when the clip of me going up on to the track to smack PITA across the face came on.

Moar...

...silly photos from Saturday night:


Tagging AZDD team captain Cannibelle Corpse:

Ginger Mortis lookin' mighty fine in pink and blue:

This is what happens when AZDD goes shopping:

Me, Kitten Trax builder Bitchy Kitten and AZDD's Vintage Vixen:

Hard at work:

Frankie Fitz giggles a lot when she gets drawn on:

Derby Makes Life Interesting

This has been another interesting derby weekend.

Last night the Arizona Derby Dames came out to play the Derby Dolls' B team, the Aftershockers. To be honest, everyone knew the Aftershockers would win, it was just a matter by how much. It was close to a 100 point spread.

But the real story was the Derby Dames and their adventures in LA. They came out Friday night, and we had a meet and greet scrimmage at the track. That went well, and afterwards a bunch of the skaters went to a local drinking establishment for more socializing. Apparently a real honest-to-goodness crackhead came into the establishment and started treating one of the husbands with the AZDD entourage as if they were old friends. Uh, welcome to LA, kids!

Yesterday before the game, the AZDD girls were out and about the town, and came across their first sighting of a thrift store/HIV testing combo. Yep, they found Out Of The Closet. While there, they were subjected to a herd of nekkid bicyclists. Apparently that wasn't a pretty sight.

They skated their hearts out at the game, with me coachin--I mean, SCREAMING MY DAMNED HEAD OFF on the sidelines. I was loud. VERY loud. My voice was clearly heard on the live webcast. I'm now paying the price today with a very sore throat and almost no voice. Everyone is thrilled with that, btw.

We go to the afterparty and I drew all over them. It was fun, of course.

Then they go back to the house of a musician in a famous band. The musician is out of town. The girls are having fun swimming and whatever, when a Hollyweird Dooshbague shows up. Now, there's someone rooming in the upstairs portion of the house, so they didn't know if said dooshbague is with the roommate or what. It's figured out that he was merely crashing the party, and so he got "escorted" out. Harshly.

I really hope there's someone on this trip who will write up their full adventures in a blog or something, because they really had a helluva Only in LA adventure.

Ahhhhh, I love LA!















As you can see from the photos, I did my hair last night. It's part of my experimentation with pincurls. I can't seem to comb them out correctly...they end up being frizzy as all getout, which is annoying and creates a Hairdo Emergency. As you can see, that happened yesterday. So up the hair went into victory rolls. Add two barettes with flowers on them and voila, instant passable hairdo.

And I still wish I took a good photo...

600

This is my 600th post for my blog.

600 posts.

Holy crap.

I sure have had a lot of nothing to say in the past four or so years!

Last night I went to a Dr. Sketchy's drawing session in Eagle Rock. There are times I have fun at these events, and times when I feel like an anti-social non-talented jerkface. It started out with me feeling like an anti-social non-talented jerkface, but I ended up having a great time. Mainly because I ended up sitting next to famous cartoonist Carol Lay. She's funny as hell and told great stories. She even told a Robert Crumb story!

There were two drawing stages in the backyard of Miss Mindy's house where Dr. Sketchy's was being hosted, and so while Carol was telling funny stories, she of course made me laugh.

Loudly.

I know, SHOCKING.

Apparently the other artists at the other stage were intrigued. Intrigued enough for the guy who runs the LA Dr. Sketchy's to make an announcement at one of the breaks that there was a contest with a prize. Oh boy, I like prizes! I thought to myself. He then says, "We usually award the prize based on whichever art piece is being done here grabs us the most." Welp, that leaves me out, I think to myself.

"But by unanimous decision, we're giving the prize away based on the loudest laughter we've heard tonight."

WHAT?!

Yeah, I got a prize for being...ME!

WHO KNEW?!?!?!

My prize was a book by Brandi Milne called, "So Good for Little Bunnies". She even signed the book for me! How cool is that?!

Side note: I've worked with Miss Mindy before at Warner Bros. about five years ago. Since I was freelance, it wasn't like we hung out every day or anything. But we've talked a few times and she's even commented here before. Anyway, when it was announced that the Loud Person Gets the Book, Miss Mindy says, "Introduce yourself!" so I did. She says, "Sandra Frame?! OH CRAP!" Isn't that what anyone wants to hear when they're identified?

But she actually said that because she didn't recognize me earlier when I first came in. But it's still a hilarious reaction.


Another day, another doodle. I don't know what I was thinking about when I drew this critter, but it's kinda cute. In a way.

Doing Stuff

I've been off and on about Doing Useful Stuff. I certainly could be more useful than I have been, but I've been taking funemployment a little too seriously.

The one Actually Useful Thing I'm doing is going to donate platelets tomorrow for an animator named Pres Romanillos. He's worked on a lot of features and is battling leukemia. While he's waiting for a second bone marrow transplant(he's on go-around numero two-o with the leukemia), he's in need of blood and platelet donations. The animation union is even doing an art show/silent auction to help cover his medical costs since his life savings were wiped out when this happened the first time.

The thing is, I don't know this dude. Never met him, never heard of him until this. I've donated platelets twice before in my life through the Red Cross, and I hated it each time. It was most likely because during the two hours it takes to gather the platelets from my blood, I watched movies that are not good donation-themed romps. The first time I watched Million Dollar Baby, and the second was Igby Goes Down. See what I mean?

So...why now? Because I should. Hard to explain exactly, because it's not like I'm feeling obligated to someone I don't know, but I just...should. It's literally the least yet best I can do. Animation has been a shitty business to be in for the past few years, and doing something nice for someone else is a heartening change of pace. Donating money while funemployed isn't in the cards. Donating my own art is useless and I don't have other art to donate to the silent auction. I can't donate blood because I'm a different blood type than what's needed, so that leaves platelets.

As an added bonus, I get to take the murdersickle to Duarte for this. GODDAM, WHAT A NICE PERSON I AM.

I keed, I keed.

In the meantime, here's another doodle. I'm so fucking proud of myself for continuing to fucking draw. Maybe one of these days I'll get good at it.

Infusion

This past weekend I was in Phoenix to train the banked track league there. They've been around for a few years but just got their banked track this year. Their path has not been easy, as they started with a more theatrical bend to the game, but as the leadership changed, so did their game, and their trainers came out to LA in January to get a dose of How We Roll. To continue the philosophical and training change of heart, they brought me out for further derby torture. It was so intense I'm sore as hell from it! But what they have going now is so fantastic. Everyone was very nice to me and they even listened to what I had to say! It was amazing! It gave me a boost to be enthused about training LA again, which was needed very much for me.

The best part? One of the girls who came out in January gave me a painting of myself that she did. She's taken up painting recently because she got a helluva concussion from skating, and so can't skate derby for a few months.  But she's still as involved with her league as much as her doctor will allow, and will be back to her old self soon.

And let's face it, to be presented with a fucking painting of oneself is just so amazing:
















Wow...just...WOW!


Here's another doodle I did recently. I really should start doing something with all this crap I draw.

Abracadabra

Yesterday I went into LA Derby Dolls Art Dept. Emergency Mode to create a flier for the next Babydoll Brawl. This is what resulted:

Playing with Photoshop? Painful as hell. I still don't get it, but I managed to get through it without screaming at the computer even ONCE. THAT IS A BIG DEAL, FOLKS. But I still got a major headache and backache from staring at the computer for hours on end. Yes, this took me hours to do. Shaddup.

Then I got in trouble for saying that I pulled this out of my ass on Facebook since everyone "shared" it all over the damn place. THE TRUTH HURTS. But not as much as a kick to the head. I still took the entire entry down, as I'm not really in the mood to deal with everyone's vagina over the context that I used the word "ass".

I Give Up

Before I wallow in my self-inflicted misery, I'll share a doodle I did last week. It's inspired by recent jogs on the beach:
















I used some teeny-tiny fine-point pen for this. I'm enjoying switching between a brush pen and this type of precise pen.

I like this whole "drawing" thing. I hope I can keep it up.



Now on to the whining.






I apparently hate losing. I really thought I got over the "winning is Very Important to Me" mentality I've sported last season, but I haven't.

Fight Crew continues to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory by technically losing in the last two jams of the game against the Swarm 118-115. I say "technically", but the losing started before the last two jams. For instance, I got ejected at the end of the third quarter.

AGAIN.

This shit is getting old.

I felt very frustrated in this game. I was told I played well, but if that were really true, would I have racked up the penalties that got me kicked out? I don't know...at least I wasn't the only one on my team kicked out. Hell, I wasn't even the first on my team to get kicked out. So not only do I not win at winning, I do not win at losing.

THAT IS MESSED UP.

But it's not just the pure penalties that got me. It's something else, and I just give up on trying to win this time. I'm cranky, stressed, and tired from trying to win, and where has it gotten me? Nowhere. So fuckit. I'm on vacation, betches.

One of the very few things I was excited about from Saturday was meeting drill sergeant and Celebrity Fit Club torturer, Harvey E. Walden IV. One of the Enforcers, Beth Penalty, works with him and had finally convinced him to show up to a game. She kept teasing me about me getting to meet him, and I don't know if she knows how truly thrilled I was to meet such a badass. Here's a fun photo of us giving our Don't Fuck With Us faces:

I secretly wished he would yell at me, but apparently he keeps the yelling restricted to assholes like Screetch, not big sweaty roller derby chicks who get kicked out of games.

Someday, Harvey E. Walden IV, someday...

Big Red

So I was on the local morning news again yesterday. Check it out below...we're after the Indian food and dancing chicks:

And yes, I'm being called "Big Red" a lot now. TOO FUNNY.

Oh yeah...

...before I forget...

And how the hell can I forget? I have a game with Fight Crew this weekend. If we don't win, I'll obliterate myself.

Enjoy it while it lasts...

Hey! A doodle! That I did recently! WOW!

Yes indeed, I was watching Barton Fink when I drew this. Why do you ask?

Art, schmart

After looking at the past month or so on this blog, I'm disgusted with myself for my lack of art posts.

So here's a doodle I did a few weeks ago:

I was watching Spartacus: Blood and Sand at the time, which explains the Greekness of it, if not the total crapaciousness of the drawing itself. Which leads me to my next round of being disgusted with myself for not upholding my promise to draw more this year. How the hell am I going to get any better if I don't get those 10,000 crappy drawings inside of me out?! I need to at least doodle more...that's definitely one of life's greatest pleasures.

How I'm Like Bridget Jones

When most people talk about Bridget Jones Diary, it's usually in the context of pathetic single women.

I, however, empathize with Bridget on a totally different level. She's awkward as hell, which is endearing and frustrating to be. I bring this up because of the below photo taken this past weekend in Ventura:

Obviously, people have been having fun with this on Facebook. Ha ha, Tara's looking stooooopid...again. It just reminds me of Bridget's line from the movie: You needn't go out of your way...I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway...

Even though there are elements of the ridiculous about me, I don't need to be reminded of how much of an idiot I am. No, really...I GET IT.

/rant done.

Ghosts of High School past...

Ah, the cruel joys of Facebook.

My old friend Michelle has been posting old photos from Back in the Day.


Here we have Michelle, Vernon, and myself in Michelle's bedroom in lovely Yuba City. This is so 80's I can't fucking stand it. This must've been around 1988.














Oversized clothes and zorro hats. We're STYLIN'.


And here we have some 1987 action featuring me with my Robert Smith/Siouxsie Sioux hair. You know what looks really horrible on redheads? Black hair. But I was so goth I was dead back then, and obviously didn't know any better. And actually, this was back before Goth was Goth in the US. We were "deathrock" once upon a time.




















What the hell is going on in this picture, anyway? Well, we have Ben, our main chauffeur Back in the Day(his car constantly burned oil and was named Big Jesus Trashcan after the Birthday Party song) sitting in the middle and foolishly allowing me and the lovely lady Felice to cut his hair. Which was an INSANE idea. Our version of a haircut involved Felice and I saying to each other, "OK, you start on that side, I'll start on this side, and we'll figure out the length later."

FOR REALS. And Ben STILL let us cut his hair.

The real scary part was that it turned out great.

Better Behaved

I've let myself become undisciplined in too many ways for the past two months.

Eating, drinking, drawing, training...I'm a slob. Apparently I should at least bother trying to adhere to a New Year's resolution...I just have to start now. I don't really know why I'm so weak right now, but I gotta stop before I hit an internal brick wall where things would become much worse. Ugh. D-I-S-C-I-P-L-I-N-E...I needs it.




















I may have a job in June. It seems like a long ways away, but it really isn't. But having that sitting in the back of my mind makes the current freelance I'm working on almost tolerable. I'm working for crap pay and it's almost worth it to have stayed on unemployment insurance. Grrrrr.

I'm hoping that some of my undisciplined ways is due to work or lack thereof...maybe a little bit of stability will get my mind back in the right place for me to be in control of myself again.




















I'm trying to change my routine hair-wise...I'm now shampooing my hair every other day, instead of every single day. It's quite a battle, which I didn't expect. Apparently most people don't shampoo every day, but I always have. My hair is oily at the roots but it's Splitendsville at the tips, so I began experimenting with the "no 'poo" routine a few month ago on and off.

SO totally not working for me.

The only way I can stand my hair the days I don't shampoo it is if I put some type of hair product such as mousse in it. But I can still smell my hair, and I disgust myself.

I've read about how other people just power through the greasy backlash stage hair apparently usually goes through when one goes without shampoo. I...just...CAN'T. Especially since I feel the heaviness of my hair and the skin on my face is getting even more oily because of my greasy unshampoo'd hair flopping in my face.

How the hell do people live like this?!



Garden update: my garden is being attacked by bugs. It sucks. Am looking into non-pesticide ways of deterring said bugs.


I'm now more hip than ever to be growing the garden since seeing Food, Inc. on PBS last week. OK, I like eating meat. It's delicious. However, I now truly realize the grotesqueness and downright evil that is factory farming. Factories are great for making cars, but not for making food. Especially meat. It's horrific. And...slaughterhouses wash meat in ammonia to kill e coli bacteria, instead of improving conditions within the slaughterhouses to cut down on e coli. The fuck?!

To be truthful, there wasn't a whole lot in the documentary that shocked me, other than the subsidies that keep corn crops growing, which is fed to cows, chickens and pigs, which are slaughtered horribly, and then sold to fast food chains to keep the food cheap. It's more expensive to eat a non-fast food diet in most of the US because of this setup. And anyone with half a brain wonders why health problems and insurance costs are skyrocketing?

So, in short...less corn subsidies, less eating of fast food factory meat, more eating of green leafy vegetables and one's health will improve. Got it.

But I'll never totally quit going to Johnnie's Pastrami for chili cheese fries after doing my taxes. A fat girl's gotta eat, y'know.

Back to the Random...

I'm still stuck in "one day at a time" land. It's beginning to feel more like, "Holy shit I'm in a helluva rut and I have to figure out what I'm going to do with myself"-ville.

I could sit here and bitch about what's wrong, but that really wouldn't accomplish much. So I'll try to come up with something to talk about that's at least mildly interesting while we're all procrastinating.














A second or third cousin of my mom's got in contact with me recently. He seems like a nice enough person and he occasionally talks to me via Facebook. He's big on geneology and is apparently tracking down my maternal grandfather's family.

This kinda-sorta opens up old treasure chests of thoughts that I put away years ago because I'm adopted. It's not a Big Deal that I'm adopted. It usually means that I joke with my non-adopted sister about how she's turning into our parents more than I am(and it's fucking hilarious...at least to me). My parents are good people and I don't think I would've been better off had I not been adopted.

The one thing about being adopted and not having any contact/real information regarding my biological parents is that I feel like I don't look like anyone. There's no family resemblance in the world for me. For whatever reason, that's kinda a Big Deal for me. I think it comes from how pervasive it is in society when people meet siblings/parents/whatever family combo they'll say, "Ah, I can see the family resemblance!" I still get that with my sister and my dad, especially. On the surface it goes back to being funny as hell, because really? I don't look like either of them. But then...I don't look like anyone else, either. I'm alone. And that's a little overwhelming at times.

Again, that's no reflection(pun semi-intended) on my parents. I can't help my feelings, and there's nothing that can be done about them, nor is there anything to do about them.

Would I be happy if I knew what my biological parents look like? I don't know if I'd be happy, but I'd know. You know?
















As long as we're reminiscing about Stuff That Won't Be Solved, I got all weirded out over this blog entry that I found about bullies.

I was ignored by bullies through most of grade school, but all of the sudden, I became a huge target for some people starting in sixth grade. It kept up through jr. high, where it's hell for just about everyone, but some choose to take it out on others in some very unpleasant ways, which makes that hell even more unbearable. I was yelled at, slapped, humiliated, had insults scrawled onto my locker in permanent marker, and was generally avoided at all costs. Good times! What's sad is that I remember a girl who had it worse...much worse than me. I wonder whatever happened to her...


Luckily in high school, I found friends who were as weird as I was, and (much to my parents' dismay) I shaved my head and had a place to hide from the assholes at my school. I don't know if my parents know what a real survival tactic that was for me.

Also, one of the original instigators of the Let's Make Sandra's Life So Ugly She Should Crawl Under a Rock and Die club dropped out in tenth grade to go work at the local Burger King. I wonder whatever happened to her, too.

I've had a couple of people from my Woodland days contact me through Facebook. They weren't my tormentors, so I've friended them. No biggie.

The paragraph from the Lessons my Bullies Taught Me blog that really, really got to me was this:

Since I'm eviscerating myself in public here, I'll tell you the truth: it's still my dominant feeling. When I am with people, no matter where I go (even online), I expect to be rejected. I assume that you will hate me, that you will seek to avoid me, that you hope I won't bother you by trying to talk to you. Every expression of acceptance is a surprise to me. I want people to be nice to me, but I never expect it. I expect people to reject me; I hope they will leave me alone. Niceness doesn't really factor into any of that.

I hate that I feel that way still, even with derby in my life, at my advanced age. How does one get over that? I don't know.

It makes me glad I don't have kids, because despite my own experiences being bullied, I wouldn't know how to help my kids if they got bullied. I don't have to worry about my cat being bullied...he kinda likes it.

Anyway, that's my time-wasting blog entry of the week for me. Back to "work"...

Warriors...come out and playyyyyyyyyy...

Last Saturday I did something non-derby related with a bunch of derby girls. We ran the Warrior Dash, which is a stupidly-fun 3.08 mile obstacle course involving going over hay bales, old cars, tunnels, cargo nets, crawling over logs, jumping over fire, and slogging through a mud pit.

Here we are at the start line:














Real athletes would've prepared for the races they run in. Not this girl. I didn't do anything...anything to prepare for this, even though I went to the website and got a semi-gander at the course. Because of all the cross-training and skating I do, I thought I had it in the bag, to be honest. Did I? Well...for the most part. Except for one thing.

Running.

Now, I jog a couple times a week, sometimes through my neighborhood and sometimes at the beach. But it ain't the same as running marathon-style. When I jog, it's at a slow pace and I alternate between walking and jogging often. That ain't the same as running almost a mile non-stop in the middle of a sunny, windy day in the dirt.

Oh, and my knee was bugging me. Confession time: Despite doing Tarametrics, I've been having knee issues for the past month. Some days it's not noticeable, other days I'm limping like an old lady. Because the Warrior Dash didn't have any place to sit down other than in the dirt, I ended up standing around like a moron for over two hours, and so I was limping even before the race.

Dumb!

In the end me and fellow Doll V. Lee came in around #8 and 9 out of our Derby Dolls group...it took us about 40 minutes to complete the course. Not too shabby, but I intend to improve for next year. For the record, it took me 36 minutes, 55 seconds to run the course. I came in #44 out of 265 in my age bracket.

Things I learned:

• Get an early start time.

• Bring my own chair to lounge in to save the knee.

• Actually train by running for reals.

• Come up with a fun costume idea that doesn't involve capes.

Here's a shot of me and V. Lee running in the distance, taken by Gori Spelling, Laguna Beyatch and Raven Seaward, who were right behind us:















Right after the race(I hope to post the muddy aftermath pix soon)we hopped in the car(after I washed off in Lake Elsinore...yick!)and drove to Valencia to a party. There's nothing like showing up to someone's nice house dressed in a semi-muddy shirt, wearing a Warrior Dash medal, stinking like a lake, and babbling almost incoherently about how much fun it is to crawl through rank, smelly mud. It's a good thing my friends are apparently a very tolerant bunch!

I'M GONNA BE FANCY

A few weeks ago an old friend caught up with me through this-here blog. Her husband is an even older friend of mine from "back in the day" when I still lived up in NoCal. She's really cute, really fun, and the both of them love Disneyland to an insane degree. Whenever we can, we try to meet up when they come out for their yearly week-long Disneyland Funfest. Anyway, I followed the link at her blog to her Ebay store.

Oh, what a delightful mistake that was.

She sells vintage clothes. Lots of beautiful vintage clothes. Eye candy for dayyyyyyys. And then I found Something. Something I MUST HAVE. Unfortunately I didn't have the presence of mind to save a large photo of it while the link was still active, but you can kinda see here. Yes, I won the bidding:














I know, I know. You're thinking, "Wow, that's a beautiful dress. WTF do YOU want with it?"

I WANT TO LOOK FANCY, THAT'S WHAT I WANT WITH IT.

I may not be able to fit in the damn thing, but that's what girdles are for. I don't know where or when I'll be able to wear it, but damned if I don't find a way to look fancy for some reason.

Just you wait.

Barbarians in the Backyard

For the past year I've been trying to avoid buying produce from supermarkets. Instead, I frequent the ten bajillion famers markets that abound here on the Westside. The food tends to last longer, be fresher, and is cheaper than the store-bought stuff. I'm not big on organic as I am on just being local. As in, buying garlic from California as opposed to China...yeah, I found Chinese garlic at a local supermarket when it was in season here. I was digusted.

ANYWAYYYYYY...

I guess the Dear Husband got influenced in the "fresh food" department by planting hot peppers, basil and oregano last year in the backyard. As in, dug in the dirt and everything. He'd gotten little boxes to plant basil and peppers a few years back, but nothing serious.

This year a garden has been planted in earnest. Yeah, that scares me, too.

We have the aforementioned stuff along with red peppers, spinach and zucchini. Which meant we had to expand our little dirt plot in the backyard. Where I did the majority of work when it came to digging, breaking up dirt clods, and throwing patches of lawn across the yard into the bushes. The DH didn't sit idly by...he made the parameters of said dirt plot.

While I was attacking the earth with various sharp instruments, the outdoor cats would wander by and stop to gaze upon my activity as if to say, "Why the hell are you digging around in our litter box? Are you going to start using it, too? If so, bring more sand!" Yeah, our garden is near where the cats shit. Charming.

Speaking of cats and boxes, here's Blue relaxing in one of the boxes that was used to bring in our little plantlings. His ear infection seems to be clearing up a bit, and I think he's beginning to gain a little bit of weight. Isn't he cute?
















Wide view of our Very Serious Garden.

OK, it's not very serious. We basically just decided on a whim to plant stuff again this year, so we disregarded when we were actually supposed to plant stuff and just started hacking at the dirt willy-nilly. I now call this area Barbarian Gardens:
















Closer, lower view of Epic Barbarian Garden:
















Close up on the spinach and last year's oregano. Apparently the oregano was supposed to die off since its an annual-type of plant. But they forgot to tell the oregano, so here it is:
















And in further cat news...

I took the old collars off of Blue and Kitty. They're in my yard more than anyone else's, and the collars were superfluous. Poor Kitty had a blue collar covered in white and yellow flowers. That's hardly the collar a Rugged Individualist such as Kitty would wear. And the magnet on it kept collecting rusty screws and nails, which was so close to Kitty's throat it made me nervous.

I'm going to get Blue a new collar, since I spent almost $500 on the little furry bastard for his ears. Poor thing hates getting medication from me, but he likes not puking. So do I, so we all win on this.

And...the Kitty Korpse Kount for 2010 has started.

This afternoon I was getting the bicycle out to run errands when I noticed Kitty standing the middle of the back lawn, looking intently at the ground. Suddenly, he snatches something out of the grass and jovially trots to the patio and drops it on the cement and starts chewing on it. I run over and identify the chew toy as:
















A very baby bird.

I don't know if Kitty actually killed it or if he found it on the grass, dropped perhaps by a crow or some other predator. I searched around the lawn where Kitty picked up the birdie, and found no other birdies. Thankfully.

Of course Kitty was very proud of himself. Even though I called him a carnivorous bastard, his response was to happily purr at me.

Derbyderbyderby

It might be good that I was unemployed through March, because this month has been stoopidly busy with the derby. Camp, practice, games galore.

Last Saturday was the first game of the season for the Ri-Ettes. You know, the ALL-STAR team? The team that I'M the captain of? Yeah. "Overwhelming" doesn't begin to cover it. "Having a couple of nervous breakdowns in preparation for this" is a little closer to what went on for me. We went up against a team of flat track skaters calling themselves "Team Legit" because they don't use skate names.







They gave us a run for our money, but we prevailed. Barely. Phew.

I learned a lot about what will be needed to stay competitive this season. Hopefully I'll be up to the task to successfully conveying that knowledge to the rest of the team so that they take it and run with it. Especially since we have two tournaments coming up before July.

And I still have a Fight Crew game to be ready for in May.


Is it hiatus yet?

Rugged Individualists

The backyard critters have been keeping life entertaining.

Amongst the birds that swoop through, the squirrels that zip by, the possums that eat the cat food, and the occasional raccoon, we have the cats. Kitty, our Fearless Bird Hunter and Squirrel Kidnapper is here all the time. So is Blue, the skinny lop-eared cat who craps all over the porch. Lou C's doppleganger from Hell, Scaredy Cat, slinks through to grab some food and get his belly scratched before he heads back to the Beavisphere in the early evenings.


Kitty is the resident Rugged Individualist. No matter how cold, rainy, or windy it is, he prefers to stay outside. On multiple occasions I've tried to bring him into the house, but every time I do, he'll purr but will zip to the back door to be let out into the cold, dark night. Blue is the exact opposite. He loves to come inside the house all the time, but due to his eternal craptitude, I won't let him stay in.

In an effort to provide at least something for the cats outside, I put out both a cardboard box to protect them from the wind, and Lardo's old cat pillow to provide a comfy place to sleep. Both of these were placed right next to each other on the porch step. Kitty never touched either of them. Blue and Scaredy Cat would trade off using the cat pillow on rare occasions.

A couple of weeks ago when it was still cold, rainy, and wintery, the brilliant idea was hit upon to place the cat pillow inside the cardboard box. Apparently that was a magical combination because the DH found this the next day:
















BOTH cats in the combo pillow/box!


It's just too fucking cute:


















It's the only time I've seen Kitty concede to anything resembling comfort for himself!


Now that the weather is much warmer and spring-like, the pillow-box is somewhat abandoned again. I'm going to leave it out there to see if it gets rediscovered, though.

IT'S DONE

FINALLY.

After much work and a big pinch of procrastination, I'm done with my Angel Food Cake artwork for the upcoming GirlsDrawinGirls dessert book.






















And yes, there are magnets being ordered. Show up to Comic Con and you can get one!

*whew!*

Last week was rather crapacious.

My sister and I were up visiting in the ol' hometown when my dad came down with viral pneumonia and had to be taken to the hospital with a 103 degree fever. Understandably, my mom was upset, so it was actually a good thing that my sister and I were there to give moral support. My dad stayed in the hospital for a few nerve-racking days but is now home, thank goodness.

Back at home, I spent my time freaking out about...well, everything else. Work? None to speak of right now...I'm getting shot down a lot, which wears on the self-esteem quite a bit. Home? Strained as hell for a few reasons...unemployment being one. Derby? Too much going on in a very short amount of time.

By mid-week I was completely and utterly convinced that I was in the midst of a mental breakdown(hell, that feeling hasn't completely gone away). A lot of crying, yelling, spasming in the middle of the floor, the usual whathaveyou. Then...

Camp happened.

The Derby Dolls held our first-ever training camp. Even that started badly for me when I missed the first class I was supposed to teach on the first day of camp. AUGHTHWOIEGHDSKWETHGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But, things got better. A LOT better. Almost a hundred skaters came to camp and got some fantastic classes led by some fantastic trainers. I got a much-needed enthusiasm boost for life in general because I had to throw myself into the crazy-busy camp schedule and was skating for one reason or another most of the weekend, which included training, taking classes, and skating in both a banked track and flat track game.

I am now in so much derby pain from all this skating, I actually wish I had a hot tub, for I would soak in it for the next week to recover physically.

As an added bonus, I received the below picture from one of the Jr. Derby girls. I had given permission to our Jr. Derby league to use one of my lame-o drawings to give to the girls to color during their yearly camp last year. I present a future Art Dept. leader: