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.