Still Trying to Breathe...

I probably won't be able to update as the week goes on, so enjoy!

As I've been slaving away on Freelance Hell, I've been watching and rewatching a buttload of film noir. The box sets that I got at my last job are keeping me from going on a neighborhood killing spree at 3 in the morning.

Here's a couple of doodles from the last job, speaking of noir:











































Apparently in my subconscious, film noir blondes like to drink. Maybe that's not just an opinion, but a simple fact, I dunno. Hell, I'm not a blonde but I'll drink, too.

The fun part about watching all the noir stuff is listening to the bonus audio commentary while the film is playing.

I found out that the average "historian" is dead boring.

Directors are generally more interesting, but having Peter Bogdanovich explain the same damn Otto Preminger story about how superior filming on location is compared to a soundstage because one has to work in the confines of the location space and get creative about solutions to filming, lighting problems etc. ad-freakin'-nauseum isn't compelling after the tenth time he's said it.

James Ellroy is amazing to listen to. He's kinda creepy and morbid, but there's no doubt that he loveslovesLOVES film noir Los Angeles and knows his locations inside and out. His enthusiasm for the old city is commendable, really.

So another week of this, then the Battle on the Bank tournament, and then REST. Blessed rest.

Until July 4 weekend, where we'll be having a riot and a beach skate stemming from our house.

That can't happen soon enough!!

This Lifestyle Will Kill Me

And I ain't talking about the roller derby...

I've rediscovered my propensity for staying up ridiculously late and drawing. Unfortunately, it's not for fun, but for work.

My routine the past couple of weeks has been to wake up around 8am, stumble to the kitchen, feed the cats, slurp down a Red Bull, do some push-ups and abdominals, run an errand or two, get to work, goof off while "working" all afternoon, do some evening exercise such as jogging or roller derby, get back into the art room around 10pm, and then really get to work until around 3 or 4am.

Rinse, repeat.

What a stoopid schedule.

And of course this will last through the end of the month, when the Battle on the Bank tournament will take place.

Why the HELL does everything have to happen all at once?!

To add to the fun, the Dear Husband has been cutting back on the nicotine gum. So he's cranky.

This house ain't big enough for the both of us to be cranky.

It's an ugly situation.




Alright, enough of my kvetching.



UPDATE:

I found out that due to a lineup change, I'll be playing again with the LA Ri-ettes (the best of the best of the LA Derby Dolls) in Battle on the Bank. That means that I'll be skating BOTH days of the tournament. Woohoo!



Moar doodles:

Obviously done while watching/listening to moar old movies. This first one was done while I was watching Detour. This hottie looks a lot like the female lead in the flick:






















I forget what I was watching while drawing this one:























I had these and a couple other similar doodles taped to my desk at work. People would come into my office, stare at the doodles and say, "Wow, I didn't know you could do that!"

Uhm, thanks?

No wonder I have an insecurity complex.

A Quick Breather

I have an evening off while I regroup, gather notes, and generally have a nervous breakdown.

I'm working too hard considering the amount of time and money I'm getting for this particular freelance project.

That's true for just about everyone I know btw, it's not just me being a conceited jerk.

Though I can be that sometimes, too.


Here's some stoopid roughs I had lying around. The first is a rough of the Dear Husband's Valentine's Day card:






















The final version was done in marker and it turned out fairly cute. I'm not that great with marker, but I try.

Well, unless it's on someone's flesh.


The second is a rough of Maude Lebowski from The Big Lebowski for the husband of one of my Fight Crew teamates:






















He had a fabulous birthday party at a bowling alley in Koreatown. Complete with cheap (but small) drinks and cupcakes that had Lebowski quotes printed on tiny slips of paper that were stabbed into the cupcakes with toothpicks. That was fun.

This guy (whom we'll call "Hot Carl" because that's his skate name) is as big a fanatic of The Big Lebowski as CH and I are. Hot Carl will send out text messages of Lebowski quotes on a fairly regular basis. I'll quote back at him. This has been going on for months and we still haven't quoted the entire movie yet.

Which probably means we haven't watched it enough times to memorize every. single. damn. line.

Ooooh, a goal!



And now for something completely different, Beavis put on a little show for the Dear Husband's family tonight. Lourdy!

Well, Lookit That!

For those of you who read the LA Times, you've probably already seen THIS ARTICLE in today's "California" section. Nice mouf, don't you think?

The funny thing is, yesterday a bunch of us skaters went to an "audition" looking for stunt doubles and background skaters for the upcoming "Whip It" movie. What a total waste of time it was.

Basically, the production people already had their "short list" of skaters that they wanted. No fatties or old broads need apply. All the cute, tiny girls(with the exceptions of Juana Beat'n and Krissy Krash, who are both large and formidible in good ways)were chosen. Not that I begrudge most of them for getting in, but they're all of a similiar body type.

I can kinda understand on them wanting younger skaters, since the book the film is based on features high schoolers and just-post-high schoolers. But for stunts and stuff where one doesn't really see faces, even an old bitty such as myself or Broadzilla can still pack a helluva punch.

It's the lack of body variety that gets to me, especially since the amazingly wide array of women in derby is what makes derby so damn interesting. There's little stick-figure girls like Mila Minute and Kung Pow Tina, then there's big monsters like PITA and Trixie Biscuit. There's short and sweet like Suzy Snakeyes, there's the hot librarian in the form of Judy Gloom, the sultry Fighty, the philosophical Axles of Evil, and of course YOUR favorite, the loud-mouthed Tara Armov.

That doesn't even begin to cover the different types of women that are involved in DIY derby.

The Dear Husband made an interesting observation: derby as it is right now wouldn't have happened if 30-something women weren't involved. By the time people hit their 30's, they're not supposed to have dreams anymore; they're supposed to be practical, responsible adults.

But then there's the women who resurrected derby. A lot of them were in their 20's, but just enough of them were in their 30's and brought their experience and wherewithal to actually stop talking and start making things happen in a way that young'uns are less likely to do(make note: I'm generalizing).

A woman in her 30's is generally at a point where she doesn't give a damn what others think as much as she probably used to. She doesn't mind that she doesn't fit into a nice, tidy little stereotype that's been supplied to her; she's just going to BE who she's gonna BE and THAT'S IT. And that's what makes DIY derby so damn interesting: it's FULL of women like that, whether they're in their 30's, 20's, or even their 40's or 50's.


We knew that the homogenizing of the sport would happen; it's already beginning to change. It's going from punk rock underground to a more athletic real sport. But "Whip It" will accelerate the homogenization. By the time the full effects of that hit me, I'll be retired. But it makes me VERY glad and extra appreciative that I found this amazing outlet when I did. While it's still fun and open to anyone who's willing to strap on a pair of skates and hope for the best.

Timing is everything!

A Blast from the Past

Once upon a time I worked on a tv series featuring a stoner and a talking Great Dane. "What's New?" was part of the title, but the irony of it was that not much of anything was new on the show.

However, the first couple of seasons were very fun to work on, because the crew was silly. Silliness is a beautiful thing that is sorely lacking in the animation biz these days, mainly due to the INSANE schedules that we're under(see previous blog entry where I was whining about deadlines and my own insecurities).

Below is a prime example of crew silliness. This was taped on a now-no-longer-existing Wild West backlot somewhere in Borebank. The Wild West lot has been replaced with a seethingly boring New England set.

What.

Everrrr.

ANYWAY, have fun watching the clip. I'm not in it, but I was there, and you can hear my cackling in the background:





AND, more Redneck Theater. It's actually getting scary.

Deadlines

Been a busy week trying to keep up on the ol' freelance.

The schedules are RIDICULOUS.

I don't know how anyone can keep up with them, but I think that most people aren't...they get a goodly chunk o' stuff done by the deadline, they turn it in, then continue to work on the stuff that still needs to be done while the overworked directors, producers, etc. try to find a moment or two to squeeze in some notes on the boards that have already been turned in.

So here I am trying to finish my first pass on this board by the deadline.

Which ain't gonna be met.

But I'll have a goodly chunk of it done to take over the hill to drop off to the very frenzied director and producer at the end of this coming week.

I feel like I've failed, even though a lot of professionals do this, do just fine reputation-wise, and end up doing as good a job on whatever particular project they're workin on as can be expected under the circumstances.


On top of that, last night we went to the Hive gallery in lovely downtown LA (read: bums were outside of the gallery mixing with the crowd begging for change or alcohol) to check out their monthly group show, which featured the GirlsDrawinGirls group as well as a buttload of other artists.

As usual, the intimidation factor of seeing a buttload of art got to me.

I wish I could be just a little bit confident about my artistic abilities. Why can't Sandra be as confident about her abilities as Tara Armov is about hers? Is it the nature of being shut away from the rest of the world while I create this stuff, and therefore the solitary mindf*** gets to me? Or is it because being a good roller derby player is way more cut-and-dried than what makes good art, which has got to be up there as one of the most subjective outlets in life to be had?

I don't know how other artists deal with this very general, very common insecurity.

What's weird is that last year on My First Directing Gig, I figured out where I fit into the world of that particular production...

I do "stupid" really well. I didn't get hired to draw nice, to be able to do heavy-duty action sequences, or to compose Citizen Kane-esque beauty shots. I just do stupid.

But in the bigger world of art, I don't know where I fit. I like doing stupid doodles or pinups, and both are filled with some ridiculously talented artists who make me look like a retarded third grader on crack. I like my small pond where I know where I fit. The ocean's still overwhelming to me, as I don't know who my audience is, or even if I really have one.

The Dear Husband was looking around, admiring the art, and would whisper to me "advise" on what he thinks I should do to sell more artwork in galleries. On one level, he's right, but that insecure level says, "Why bother? There's ten BAJILLION better artists out there that do better work!"

See? Total mindf***.

This why too many artists in the past weren't bigger when they were alive, methinks. Artist insecurity.

Welp, back to work for me...at least I'm enjoying the current project I'm on. It's funny. And I'm watching a bunch of film noir on the ol' computer sitting on the divorce desk. I get a lovely view of neighbor Beavis' domestic intranquility on top of all this, too.

Maybe I have it made after all.

Oh Lourdy...

I have to be the LEAST photogenic person on the face of the planet:



























That's a real nice "I Can Do It" pose there, dontcha think?


























Markie D Sod and me:























Me so cranky!



I can't help it that I look like a doofus. I just wish that cameras would make that whole doofus thing look better.


The most recent installment of Redneck Theater is up. Go laugh. Or cry. Whatever!

Still waiting for pix from Saturday's game.

I didn't look like me, which was FANTASTIC. You'll see.

In the meantime, enjoy the bout intro:




Edit: OK, I give in. Here's a sneak peek:










































Yep, that's me on the left.






In the Girl Scout Leader uniform.






I rocked that thing.

Under Pressure

I woke up this morning to a frantic email from the head of the Derby Dolls' Art Department.

The flier for the upcoming Battle on the Bank tournament that we're hosting at the end of next month was, shall we say, subpar to our high, exacting standards. So I was asked if I could pull something out of my @$$ by tomorrow as a replacement. This is what I pulled out today by 5pm:

























I'm not too displeased with it. I like the battling girls, at any rate. So should you.

I had to put aside my freelance for the day to do this, but as it turns out, that was for the best because an updated version of the script came in late today and I would've had to adjust stuff anyway. GO, ME!

For my LA peeps: I sure as sh!t hope you're coming to the Sirens/Tough Cookies game this Saturday. Since I'll be team managing the Tough Cookies, I'm going to be wearing an outfit that'll blow your minds.

No, SERIOUSLY.

Photos will be taken to record the silliness. I've had to severely diet all week so that I can fit into said mind-blowing outfit. The husband's excited for me to wear it, THAT'S how good it is!

Back to work...

I Love Post-its

Because I can draws stuff like this:















That was my attitude after just a week at the last job. Not a good sign!

It's also not a good sign that I couldn't even bother to use any kind of use of perspective, even in a damn doodle.



Another idea/sequence that won't see the light of day:














It's the last remaining drawing from a Karate Kid inspired sequence that got thoroughly butchered in the final board. I'm only mildly disappointed, as I had to come up with a whole bunch of gags over an intense weekend workout of, "Oh crap the board artist didn't do anything for this section and now I have to find a way to make it work let's see what can I do? I know I'll rip off the Karate Kid and everyone will think it's teh funnay!!"

Yeah, right.

Out of 4 quick gag sequences I pulled out of my @$$ over a two day post-it scribbling period, only two of them were used. Thank goodness for the post-its, and their expendability matched my talent on that sequence!

Tomorrow I start a freelance gig. Yay, money!!

Props from Cartoon Brew

GirlsDrawinGirls got mentioned on Cartoon Brew today here.

Woohoo!

Guess who still has to figure out how to get her artpiece printed and framed for the show in two weeks?

HAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The latest on Beavis.

Today's episode completely and utterly trumps the story I was gonna tell about the strange dude that was following me around Hollywood Blvd. today. Go!

Fairly Uncharacteristic

Another day, another doodle:





















I was trying for something uncharacteristic. I think I succeeded!

Funemployment

Ah, the joys of funemployment!

My first week post-Job From Hell has been pretty good, except that it's SO DAMN HOT.

I hate hot weather. Not as much as I hate wind, and when it's hot and windy, I'm a very unhappy soul.

At least Hurricane Ken came to town for a quick visit, and there was an Ant Bully reunion lunch of sorts on Friday. That was fun, even though it was in North Hollyweird where it was approximately 10 million degrees. NO LIE. Next time we all gotta meet up where there's plenty of table space and alcohol to be had.

I forgot to mention that I took part of a group art show that fellow Fight Crew member Vulvarine curated:
















Of course the art piece I did isn't really cute.

It's ridiculous.

I painted it on the fly at my last week of work. Yes, I painted. With real paint.

Allegedly people like it, but not enough to buy it.

Ah well.

When I get the painting back I'll take a photo of it and post it.

And I missed the opening reception. Dammit.


Time to go to the beach and mutter under my breath about how stoopidly crowded it is because it's so stoopidly hot. Global warming sucks!

Stuff I Didn't Think I'd Do...

This past weekend I went to the Orange County Rollergirls Roll For A Cure breast cancer fundraiser/tournament in lovely Corona, CA.

I hope to never have to drive to freakin' Corona again, but the venue where the tournament was held is great.

Too bad it's in Corona.

Anyway, while I was waiting for my chance to do some announcing, I inadvertently went skate shopping.

Now, at the beginning of the year I was planning on stepping down from Fight Crew by this time.

Yes, something resembling retirement.

My knees were in agony and I was shuffling around like a 70 year old man, my work schedule just exploded, the DH was/still is terminally neglected, the house hasn't been cleaned since the DH's birthday party back in February, and my current skates are falling apart.

Due to the above list, I was just going to let my own little entropy project take its course in the form of my skates literally falling off my feet. Which I wouldn't care about since I was gonna retire, right?!?!?!

But then things changed...the job ended, the DH got all involved with making the ruleset that we'll be using for the Battle on the Bank tournament that we'll be hosting at the end of June, and most importantly, I discovered the joys of plyometrics and started doing them about 20 minutes a session twice a week for the past couple of months.

My knees are almost what they were before I started derby.

Which is to say, they ain't 1,000%, but they're definitely skateable.



SO, there I was in miserable freakin' Corona and I start looking at skates.

One of the booths had a skate boot that's designed especially for roller derby.

They had my size.

I tried 'em on and was impressed. The booth was willing to give me a mild discount because these particular boots were a botched special order so the girl who originally ordered them didn't want them.

SOLD!!!!

I also got new lightweight skateplates that cost as much as the damn boots. Hopefully it'll be worth it.

Unfortunately the plates had to be ordered and mounted on the boots, so I didn't get to take home my exciting new purchase. I should get them by next week.

With my luck, I'll suffer some horrific injury right after I get the new skates.

OR, I'll have to skate for at least a year longer to justify the cost of the damn things.

Either way, I'm happily broke right now.


Here's some more drawings from last year. This first one was obviously done after I watched some old movie:





















Very Rita Hayworth, don't you think?



I did this one before I did the above drawing. It looks like I was channeling Pamela Anderson a little bit. Ugh.























Oh! I momentarily forgot to mention my almost-brush-with-fame-story...

On my last day of work, I went to the main lot for one last round of dvd shopping. Got the DH the complete Brisco County dvd set and Bullit for myself. As I was wandering around, I happened to stroll by the set where they film Two and a Half Men or whatever that series is that stars Charlie Sheen and Jon Cryer.

In front of the soundstage were parking spaces, and I looked at the nice expensive cars of the producers who parked there and wondered to myself where Charlie Sheen parks. At just that instant, he hurries out from some hidden nook, obviously late for...something.

Poor bastard. To be running late and having to rush by some strange-looking woman dressed all in black, carrying a bag of dvd's and an umbrella on a sunny California day.

Gotta give him credit, he's a professional. I smiled, he smiled back as he rushed off to his important whatever-it-was that he was late for.

One of these days I hope to "accidentally" bump into George Clooney!


And since people have been asking, here's the latest on Beavis.

Pretty on the Inside

Here's a post-meltdown drawing I did last year. Apparently I draw OK when I'm ready to step in front of a fast-moving train:






















Here's a happy drawing I did:















Obviously there's something wrong with me.

Last Year's Rejects

Stuff that will never see the light of day in an animated production:

Mind=BLOWN

I played last night.

And got kicked out.

Along with five of my teammates, so I don't feel so bad.

And...




WE WON THE GAME.








BY OVER 100 POINTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It.

Was.

INSANE.

The crowd was so loud during the first quarter of the game, the ears of those of us in the infield were in terrible pain. It didn't matter what the outcome of the game was gonna be; the audience was there for US.

The final score: LA 118, San Diego 14.

That's not a typo.

Our scoreboard doesn't even accomodate three-digit scores, so by the final whistle it looked like we won by only four points.

Our team just ROCKED. We all did what we were supposed to do. We all were where we were supposed to be. San Diego was just overwhelmed and overpowered. I love those girls, and they're skilled as hell, but LA figured out teamwork, and it showed.

I'm so proud of the league!

Our general league intro from last night:





Here's another "greatest hits" montage that played in front of the Austin derby documentary, Hell on Wheels. I'm not a fan of Queen, but this is an EXCELLENT use of Another One Bites the Dust:



OH!

I forgot to mention that I now have an official theme song for when I get kicked out of games.

It's not a custom song, but it's funny nonetheless.

Back in January, it was expected that I'd get kicked out of the game, so Joan Jett's Bad Reputation was cued up for me. Well, I didn't get kicked out when I was supposed to, but Tough Cookie Iron Maiven did, so the song was hers.

The next time I got kicked out, this song played:



Yeah.

Duran Duran.

GOOD TIMES!!

Everyone expected me to be p!ssed that I'd get saddled with a Duran Duran song. It's not like I'm known for loving Duran Duran.

But in actuality, I don't mind it so much.

Maybe it's because I have a weakness for Girls On Film after all these years!

I Think I Need A Vacation...

Ever jolt yourself awake in the middle of the night during a particularly vivid dream?

So have I.

But have you done so because Scott Baio was in said dream?

Until last night, I hadn't.

WTF?!?!??!?!

The dream also included a musical interlude by LA 80's band the Gun Club. 

What does all this mean?

I'm not sure.

Could it be that I'm:

Stressed about this Saturday's derby game?

Stressed about work?

Stressed about rising water and gas prices?

Stressed about losing the remaining Pernicious Passover Pounds(of which I have 3. Which will go back up to 4 or 5 by the weekend due to the mandatory Carb Loading needed for Saturday's game)?

Well the last one may not count, as it didn't stop me from doing what terrifies most women into fetal balls of whimpering fear: BUYING A BATHING SUIT.  I even got something that isn't too hideous.  The Dear Husband rolled his eyes when I showed him what I got, though.  Harrumph.

On a non-stressed note, I'll be doing some more roller derby announcing at the OC Rollergirls Roll for a Cure extravaganza next weekend.  That should be fun!

Also, I've been watching a LOT of old Warner Bros Gangster movies at work lately.  Three box sets, to be exact. I've been torturing the coworkers with tommy gun fire and east coast accents with films such as: Little Caesar, Ladykiller,  the Roaring Twenties, the Petrified Forest, Bullets or Ballots, G Men, A Slight Case of Murder and Brother Orchid.  Now wherever I go, I imitate Edward G. Robinson by saying, "Alright you mugs!" every chance I get. 

I find that people are baffled that I prefer watching old movies. I don't know what the big deal is, as not many contemporary films have anything resembling character, good writing and interesting cinematography. Things that could come in handy in my business...or they should, at any rate. 

The last week on the job of last year's directorial debut by Yours Truly featured Action Boy wandering into my office in absolute shock and amazement when he heard the machine-gun chatter of Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday playing on the dvd player. 

Action Boy: Wow! You're watching His Girl Friday!

Red Diabla: Uh, yeah.

AB: I didn't know you knew about that film.

RD: Cary Grant is one of my favorite actors.

AB: Rosalind Russell ain't so bad, either! But most girls don't watch old stuff like that.

RD: Well, I do.

AB: watches the movie for several minutes. You should watch more Rosalind Russell. She's girly but she's tough. You'd love her.

RD: Yeah, I know.

AB: looks at RD quizzically. You know who she is?

RD: gets the feeling that "I'm a complete moron" is tattoo'd across her forehead. Of course. I'm watching this(points to the tv) aren't I?

AB: Oh. Yeah. Well, you should watch more of this stuff. wanders off...

RD: rolls eyes and goes back to watching the film...

Now that I think about it, Hurricane Ken is the only person offhand who expects me to learn classic movies. And it's not just because he now looks and sounds like Jack Benny, though I'm sure that doesn't hurt. 

Alright you mugs, I gotta get back to work and to watching Ladykiller...again.

I Can Has Drawings?!

Hey LOOK!

I actually managed to turn on my home computer and upload some crap!

WOOHOO!

I was poking around my piles o' paper in the art room earlier this week looking for efx and timing notes from last year's funfest when I found a pile o' drawings that had been taped to my office door while I was experiencing the joys of being a New Director. Here's a small sampling:


I actually don't remember what the hell this was for, but she's kinda hot:





















It looks like it was a birthday card or something. Uh, I wonder if it turned out OK.



My feelings one particular Friday afternoon:






















That didn't happen too often, as I was usually too busy to be bored. Same thing this year...whatever adjectives I could use to describe this year's experience, "boring" wouldn't be anywhere near the top.


I found a bunch of other drawings too, but knowing how ridiculously slow I am about posting new stuff, I'd better parcel it out slowly.

My layoff date is in two weeks. I'm actually happy about it.

Especially now that the weather's turned hot as f&*%^ again...I won't want to travel east of the 405 freeway for anything other than a drinking emergency for the next few months.


But I won't be able to be a beach bum yet...there's still this game:





















VIP's already sold out, and there's less than 200 General Admission tix left. It's gonna be a helluva game.


I still have 7 lbs. of Overweightness to get rid of. Life is conspiring against me by supplying me with friends who serve good food.

Dammit.

Passed Over, Passed Out

Thank gawd Passover only happens once a year.

I say that every year, as does the Dear Husband. Probably most Jews say the same thing too.

However, the DH's family is the only one we know personally who do TWO nights of the Seder. 

For those that don't know, Passover is a telling of how the Jews escaped from Egypt Back in the Day. Most Jews do a 20 minute ceremony hitting the highlights and then get to eating for the evening, cheerfully giving thanks to the Kick@$$ Lord Above for smiting the Egyptians with one helluva Pimp Hand.

Not the DH's family.

They invite too many people to sit comfortably around the table. They do all the prayers. The incredibly off-key singing that sounds like a funeral dirge on quaaludes. The asking, Why is this night different from all other nights? The long retelling with the fuzzy logic math and trickle-down theories on just how many damn plagues hit the Egyptians before they were persuaded to let the Jews run along.

And that's before the food.

It usually takes 30-45 minutes of this stuff before we get to stuffing our faces. The stuffing-of-faces is also ridiculous. 

Hard-boiled eggs, chopped liver, gefilte fish, brisket, turkey, kugel, pickles, mazto,  cranberry sauce, matzo ball soup, veggies that were stock for the matzo ball soup, macaroons, and whatever other desserts that are kosher for Passover pile up on everyone's plates. Diets are not allowed.

Again, all this for TWO DAMN NIGHTS.

The only saving grace for the DH and I is that there's wine involved. Four glasses of wine, to be exact. Most Jews take a dainty sip at each point in the ceremony where they're supposed to drink. Not us. We ride our bicycles over to his parents' house just so that we take FULL advantage of those four glasses of wine. Being buzzed definitely helps us get through the ceremony without much pain. Or cohesion, for that matter.

DH's dad came from a line of men who feel that whatever temple they belong to isn't religiously strict enough, and he maintains that viewpoint with the two-night rule. The alleged original reason a family would have two nights of this ridiculous stuffing-of-faces is for the married children; they'd be able to go to each set of parents' house for Passover. Not applicable to DH and his sister, as they each married non-Jews, so they each show up to their parents' house for both nights.

The real reason?

DH's cooks an obscene amount of food and she wants to make sure we all eat it instead of her. 

Dammit.

However, a new wrinkle and potential savior for us may be in the making...

Usually during the 30-45 minutes of pre-eating ceremony, DH's mom sneaks off to the kitchen to "make sure the food's ready".  DH's bro-in-law caught on to that trick and started going in to "assist" starting about five years ago, leaving the rest of us to ponder the real smiting capabilities of the plagues that hit the Egyptians with DH's dad reciting Hebrew.

This year, DH's dad started bringing the hammer down by demanding that DH's mom and bro-in-law stay in their seats the entire ceremony. That put a damper on their fun (which is fine by the rest of us, since now we're all in the same miserable boat together).

So now DH's mom is saying, I'm not going to do Passover here at the house anymore. I'm eighty-one years old and that's too damn old to keep doing this. You'll have to figure out where you're going to go for the Seder next year. 

I think the natural assumption on DH's mom's part was that the DH's sister would take over Seder duty. 

That's a big negatory on that assumption, apparently.

Our response?

WE'RE OFF THE HOOK!!!!!!!

Which of course is NOT the response DH's parents are looking for. But DH's mom gave DH the recipe for her brisket. It's damn good brisket, too...giving up the recipe means DH's mom is more serious about not doing the Seder than we had previously thought.

Whoa.

She'll probably change her mind by next year, but in the meantime I'm going to dream of not having to strictly diet for a week after the Seder to lose the six damn pounds I've still to shake to get back down to fighting weight.

Seeing family is fine, but the ceremony needs to go.

O Hai!

This week is going better than last.

Work is still busy, but I keep reminding myself that I have only three weeks left and that helps my sanity stay in check.

Whatever sickness I got is still manifesting itself in the form of solid chunks of green ick that I keep hoarking up from my lungs. Taking cough medicine is fine for night time when I need to sleep through the night, but I think I gotta lay off the stuff during the day so that I don't drown. I keep getting headaches from coughing so much. 

Mmmmm, tasty!

Derby drama: a little more calm than last week, though things are gonna be touch-and-go for awhile. I just hope to get in as much skating as I can before my body finally gives out.

Speaking of, the May 3 game against San Diego is gonna sell out. VIP tickets are already gone. 

Another speaking of, LA's gonna host a tournament in late June. Keep your calendars open, 'cos it's gonna be amazing, historic amongst DIY leagues, and just fun as f^&!

Some day I hope to bother to turn on the home computer and scan in some of the doodles I've been scribbling so that this blog isn't so damn boring.

Worst Week Evarrrrrrrrrrrr

In February I posted about having a sh!tty week.

I retract that.

THIS week was a sh!tty week.

OK, actually, in the big picture of life, I shouldn't b!tch. I wasn't in any accidents, my house didn't fall down, my cats haven't been kidnapped to be used in any satanic sacrifices, and the husband hasn't left me for a militant lesbian with a faux-hawk and mustache who would use him to impregnate her with the Anti-Christ.

But I did get sick... again.

Work got flipped upside down and EVERYTHING was redrawn (approximately 800 2-panel storyboard pages) in four days.

I've been flaky about meeting Mudsock and other old friends for lunch because of the sh!tty work schedule.

Derby drama reared its very ugly head and I ended up screaming on the phone to the owner of the league while high on cough syrup and struggling to finish my work drawings.

I had gained 10 pounds in the course of a week and a half due to the stress-eating because of derby and a tense work situation.

This weekend is Passover, so losing that weight isn't gonna happen for another week.

My team captain fractured her shoulder last week. The bad: she's a member of the All-Star team which is scheduled to play our sister league from San Diego on May 3. She now can't play that game due to the fracture.

Guess who's now in?

Little Miss Alternate: ME.

The good? Umm...I don't know, as I'm not happy about the circumstances leading me to be in the game.

However, there are some bright sides:

My current job ends in about three weeks. I can't freakin' wait.

Because of my being sick this week, my body was finally able to get some rest, and is now ready to get punished in preparation for the May 3 game against San Diego.

I have drawings to scan in and build in Illustrator.

And hey, Scooby was found to be part of Roxy Cotton's amazing butt bruise:
















Thanks to Uccellina's Very Busy Husband for the photo!

Tired and Sore

Another game, another loss.

However, I apparently threw enough hits to get some fun responses from non-skating skaters after the game. Something along the lines of, "HOLY F&^&*!!!!!!! YOU WERE PISSED!!!!"

Yeah, I may have been.

As an added bonus, I DIDN'T GET KICKED OUT OF THE GAME.

AT ALL!!!!

Miracles DO happen!


Here's me throwing an illegal-looking block on Laguna Beyatch:
















Doing the hippy-hippy shake:






















Trying to save jammer Crystal Deth from Krissy Krash(or, as some of us call her, "Paula Bunyan"):

Remember how I got thrown out of last month's game against the Sirens before halftime? I deserve it after seeing a photo of the aftermath of the major penalty that got me ejected:


















That's Roxy Cotton's ass five days after I sent her flying.

DAYUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm apparently effective when I want to be.

Cases Online

Remember when I was blathering about the cases I did pin-ups for, and how they weren't available on the company's website for awhile?

Well, NOW THEY ARE!

Check 'em out!

Buy one, or collect the whole set!

Drawdrawdraw

Too busy to make a real post, so here's another update on that freak o' nature: Beavis.

Guitarist's Best Friend

Date: Thursday, March 27.

Location: Silverlake in Los Angeles, CA

Venue: Spaceland.

Reason: to see my favorite band, the Datsuns.

Who the hell are the Datsuns? You may be asking yourself.They're only the bestest band that's ever come out of New Zealand. I first heard of them over four years ago when I was working in Texas. One night when the husband was visiting, we went to a bar called the Doublewide just outside of the infamous Deep Ellum district in downtown Dallas. In case you can't figure it out by the name alone, the bar's theme was that of a white trash double-wide trailer. The exterior featured a metal "tornado" on the roof. The interior included treasures such as plastic-covered furniture, velvet paintings, cheap Brady Bunch wood paneling on the walls, cheap beer, and the best damn jukebox EVER.

That's where we found them, those wily little Datsuns.

Their debut self-titled album was on said jukebox, and the appeal was immediate just based on song titles alone such as Harmonic Generator (one of my all-time fave songs all around) and MF from Hell. We played those two selections and were hooked.

Fast forward almost a year later, after I'd joined the Derby Dolls.

The Dolls were asked to take part in a video for the Datsuns' followup album. HELL YEAH! we replied. So in one night, a small film crew, an incredible caterer, and the Datsuns showed up to our rooftop track for a marathon 14-hour-or-thereabouts shoot for their song, Girl's Best Friend:





Didja see me?!?! I knocked the drummer off his seat in the middle of the video.

The best part about that was when the shot was set up, he didn't know that he was going to be knocked to the ground. Neither did the rest of the band. Or the rest of the crew outside of the camera dude and director. Neither did the Derby Dolls. So me and another skater, Molly Hatchett, skated around the track a couple of times and then shot off into the infield and straight for the drummer. Knocked him off, and all three of us rolled to the ground. The rest of the band turned around IN SHOCK. The Derby Dolls started cheering. The drummer popped up off the ground very angrily. The director had some 'splaining to do. But everything was smoothed over quickly and we got back to business.


It was hellishly fun...one of the best "media" exposures I've personally taken part of. The crew was friendly, the catering spectacular, and the band got a literal crash course in what roller derby, since they didn't have such activities in Kiwiland at the time. They even tried to skate:




They don't come to LA very often, so when they do, we make it a point to see them. So we braved the crapacious parking situation that is Silverlake and slammed down a Sparks to get us in the mood for the evening. The two opening bands were good, so that continued to keep our spirits up.

Then, they started their set. Here's the lead guitarist, Christian:




















There's a face somewhere under all that hair.

Didn't get very good photos of Dolf, the bassist/lead singer, or Ben, the drummer.

Then there's Phil:




















Phil's always been very approachable and is cute as a button. My favorite conversation with him was at the Rainbow Room on Sunset Blvd. in the parking lot several years ago where he kept poking me in the chest and saying that he could kick my @$$ while wearing roller skates (problem: he can't roller skate). Awwwwwww!


Hey, waitaminute, what's that on Phil's arm?!
















A tattoo?

He's not the tattoo type.

No...

What the...?!




















HA!

I got my grubby little mitts on him during the opening band's set. The conversation went something like this:

Phil(walks up to Red Diabla and gives a hug): Hi!

Red Diabla(hugs Phil back, takes out an earplug out of one ear to attempt conversing while very loud opening band is playing): HI!

Phil: How's it going?

RD: Great! Busy as f***! Can I draw on you?

Phil: What?!?!?!?!

RD: Draw on you. Can I?

Phil: Uhhhhh...

RD: (smiles evilly)

Phil: What are you gonna draw on me?

RD: Gimme something to draw on and you'll find out!

Phil: (sheepishly pushes sweater sleeve out of the way while muttering incoherently)

RD: (pulls out pile of Sharpies) Hold still!

After about five minutes of RD trying to draw in the dark, doodle is complete.

Phil: What is it?

RD: It's a devil chick!

Phil: Oh! Cool!

Husband takes pix of doodle for Phil, but neglects to take pix of doodle AND Phil. He shows Phil the doodle. Phil smiles.

Phil: I'm gonna go show everyone else now!

RD: OK!

Phil wanders off, looking a little dazed and confused, as if he'd just been tagged by Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.

After the really good show we said goodbye to Phil. The doodle got some sweat damage, but it was still readable. Phil gave a hug and a smooch on the cheek, and wandered off again.

Cute little booger.

BusyBusyBusy

Work schedule: crazy.

Derby schedule: crazy.

Art schedule: crazy.

Life schedule: crazy.

Lookit what I'm doing for the Derby Dolls right now:

Hastily Done

I haven't had time to sort through photos from last Saturday's game, but here's some stuff that's almost related to this blog.

OG Derby Doll Juana Beat'n getting tatt'd by me at the afterparty:

















Ready for her closeup:
















The finished product:
















It says, "O.G. Badass", 'cos that's what she is. And she's hot!!!



Here's Hurricaine Ken's arm:






















You can't see in the photo above where I tagged his shirt with a doodle for his Redhead. It appropriately says, "Redheads R Trouble". When he brought the shirt home and washed it, the doodle faded in the wash. The Redhead decided to not let the doodle fade further by stitching it in place:






















Isn't that a little slice o' awesome?!

Here's a great review of the game from losanjealous. DF, the dude who reviews our bouts, is a pretty cool guy. And I'm not just saying that because he thinks it's neat that I look like I eat jammers during games. Well, alright, maybe I am.

Also, the Derby Dolls are in People magazine that has JLo and her new kids on the cover. Page 22. We're gonna be in for a busy year.

Tumultuous Weekend

Heck, more of a tumultuous month.

Whatever.

My scanner's unplugged so I can't scan any doodles. Lucky for you.

Bleh.

Last week my buddy "Hurricane" Ken was visiting in LA-LA Land and he came by the ol' workplace for lunch. Hilarity quickly ensued when he brought a STACK of dvd's with him that include what he calls, The Cinematic Offenses of Humphrey Bogart. He ain't kiddin'. Go watch titles such as, Swing Your Lady and The Return of Dr. X and you'll see what Ken's talking about. Just. Staggering. Luckily he also threw in some really cool stuff like The African Queen and James Cagney's Ladykiller to cleanse the movie-watching palate.

Ken and I are easily the loudest people on the planet. Within minutes of him finding my office, we had the PA come by and tell us that she could hear us all the way across the building. Good thing we're funny, or else that would be really annoying!

We went to the main lot and wandered around and I got a quick tour of cool movie sites: "Oh LOOK! This is where James Cagney proposed to Ann Sheridan in Backstage! This is where the Dead End kids were hanging with Bogart! Here's where the Nazis were hiding in Brooklyn!!!!!!!!"

In a studio system that generally doesn't care about its movie-making past, it's cool to have friends who care about that stuff.

Back at the Ranch, we stopped by one of the story rooms to say hi to everyone, and Ken just took over. It was amazing to see the other guys just sit in slack-jawed awe of Ken's louder-than-life personality, hence my now calling him Hurricane Ken. He just takes over and slams everyone down if they're not ready! I had fun sitting back and watching.



Last night was another Derby Dolls game. Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore, and Ellen Page were in attendance.

My team played.

And lost.

Again.

I didn't help matters by getting kicked out of the game BEFORE HALFTIME.

How did you manage that, O genius with a "J"? you may be asking yourself.

Well, an accumulation of arms penalties and a big fat blatant knocking-the-opposing-jammer-on-her-@$ move as the end-of-the-jam whistle was blowing got me thrown outta there faster than Indian food going through a caucasian's digestive system.

The crowd LOVED it.

My team HATES me. Well, at least my captain does. Rightfully so, I suppose.

I haven't been feelin' good derby mojo the past couple of months due to the endless knee pain, and it's affected my playing a LOT. So much so, that I thought that I wasn't of much use to the team. That's not to say that I intentionally pulled enough penalties to get thrown out of the game, because that's not the case. But I did totally underestimate how much my getting kicked out would mentally affect the team. Apparently the captain had some major damage control to do during halftime. The team came back and did damn good, I thought.

I got a LOT of people coming up to me during and after the rest of the game who were all excited about my getting kicked out, my team, roller derby, etc. As much as I short-changed the team, we gots some more fans out of it, surprisingly enough. Everyone always loves a villain was the husband's response.

So I gotta refocus my efforts on the team and stop being such a jack@$. We're playing next month on April 12. Come and see if I challenge Tough Cookies' captain Iron Maiven running streak of getting kicked out of three games IN A ROW, or if I manage to get my sh!t together and play an entire game without getting into too much trouble.

You Don't Love Me

Or you find this blog hideously boring.

Who would've thunk that a post about some guy getting a tattoo of a Thalidomide-handed derby girl drawn by a drunk jerkface in Vegas wouldn't elicit a single comment?

While I ponder that, go read the latest on Beavis.

THE RUMORS WERE TRUE!

Last year at Rollercon I did a ridiculous amount of sharpie tattoos. There were drunken mumblings from some folk about getting the ink done for realz. Luckily for them, the nearest tattoo shop to Rollercon HQ, Vince Neil's place, was closed when I was really hitting my stride in the middle of the night each night I held court in the mai tai bar.

HOWEVER...

There were persistent rumors after the dust settled about someone getting one of my doodles done as a tatt. I went on MySpace and the roller derby message boards asking for confirmation, but my inbox on that particular subject was empty.

Until yesterday.

One of the girls I met at the Blood & Thunder camp gave me a link to a tattoo artist's website in the midwest, and lo and behold, this is what I found:
























HOLY FREAKIN' CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's a natural first reaction, right?

Two reasons for the reaction:

1) it's always mind-blowing when someone gets one's artwork permanently tattoo'd on their person.

2)just how drunk was I at the time when that drawing was scribbled on his person? I'm never that good at drawing hands when I'm at the top of my game, but jeeeezus, look at those thalidomide paws she has!

Whoa.

This year I need to spend some real time drawing hands. And backs. And, uh, everything.

Blood and Thunder pix

Here's a small sampling of photos taken at the Blood & Thunder boot camp in San Diego.


Me tagging AZRD's Ivanna S. Pankin:
















Duke City's(Albuquerque)Miss E. Vil and...uh...someone else with matching boob jobs:

















Me with Miss Fortune in my lap. She has a chest doodle, you just can't see it. This photo cracks me up because of the uncharacteristic smile on my mug:
















Miss E Vil's drawing-in-progress with Angel City's Estrojen conversating:

















I'm in total work and derby overload right now. It's good and bad at the same time, but overall I'm not having too much fun with any of it. Sigh.