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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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.
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.
Which made me giggle like Renfield in the office(which is messed up, btw. My old office is currently unused, yet I'm in Action Boy's old office. I'm peeved. I have to go do my Action Boy imitation every few hours to reset the damn thermostat in my old office when I could just BE in my old office and not deal with either sweltering heat or freezing arctic breezes with the periodical trot to the thermostat to mutter incoherently and push the damn buttons until the air conditioner kicks on. Goddam big corporations SUCK. Crap.).
After my bitchfest last week on this-here blog, I drove off to San Diego with cough medicines and skates in hand to take part in the Blood & Thunder Roller Derby Camp. Over 100 skaters showed up from around the country and even Canada to get some helpful tips and trips when it comes to playing roller derby. I was one of about seven coaches that led classes in everything from basic skating form to blocking(my first specialty) to off-skates cross-training to introducing the banked track to the overwhelmingly flat track brethren(my third specialty). This was like a mini-Rollercon, minus the big parties.
I have to admit that I dreaded going, based on the timing with my new job starting and all, but I ended up having fun.
Yeah, shocking.
The main highlight of the weekend was a game between skaters from the Blood & Thunder camp going up against the San Diego Derby Dolls. Note: the B&T team was chosen Thursday night. San Diego's been skating together for a couple of years. The result of the game? The B&T team won...something like 120-79 after two 20 minute periods.
WOW.
It's all in the attitude and teamwork, not necessarily the skills.
At the afterparty I pulled out the Sharpies and started drawing on everyone in sight(my second specialty). I forget how many people I tagged, but derby photographer-extraordinaire Boss Hogg got photos of just about all of them. He got some funny photos of one of the skaters who got her chest drawn on by moi and then she insisted on sitting in my lap afterwards. Too bad I'm not gay...
A funny moment happened when several of the skaters came up to me after I escaped Sharpie duty and complimented me on my classes. They then told me that they learned so much not because I was such a calm, patient teacher, but that I had such a crazy look in my eye that they figured that they'd better pick up what I was putting down REALLY fast before I hit them.
Uh...thanks?!
But you know what? I actually think everyone liked me in the end. I even texted as such to several people on my way home. Well, I texted, "Chicks dig me!" The husband texted back, "Stop the presses!"
Sarcasm, anyone?
I even challenged the ever-adorable Raf to a chick magnet contest. Him, me, a pile of Sharpies, and a line of women.
I just might win, even though his hair is longer than mine.
Here's the last of the Famous Dead Dog Doodles:
You get The Shining reference, right?!
Last summer I had control of the office temperature of all the sequence directors because I had the thermostat for said offices in my office. That would be great, if the temperature for all three offices were the same. They weren't. The system is cheap, and the thermostat's reach wasn't very far. Which resulted in my office being an arctic zone while the other two directors sweltered in tropical office hell despite me putting the temperature to as low as it would go, and I'd wear a hoodie while drawing despite outside temperatures rising into the 90's.
Every couple of days Action Boy would wander in and mutter something about how stuffy his office was and would start fiddling with the thermostat for all three offices. I reminded him that a) it's already at the lowest setting and b) I was already freezing my tuchus off, and would demonstrate it by placing my corpse-cold hand on his person. He'd flinch and leave, after more mutterings. So this drawing was left for him my last week on the job.
Such the comedian, am I.
My comeuppance is that now I'm in Action Boy's old office. Ay, carumba!
Saturday was a game between the Sirens and Tough Cookies.
I thought that the Sirens would've wiped the track with the Cookies, but in the last three jams of the game the Cookies took the lead and actually won. Impressive skating by both teams, almost all of the Sirens jammers got kicked out of the game for penalties, and the guy who loaned the league money for our current space tried to be a macho sh!thead to Drew Barrymore. Yeah, he thought he could tell Drew freakin' Barrymore where to sit in the VIP stands. The Drew Barrymore who's making a movie about a girl who joins an all-girl roller derby league. Who was thinking about filming at least some of it at our track. I don't know if he screwed the pooch for us on that potential deal. Jerkface.
AAAAAAAND, before the game, the friendly neighborhood homeless couple that camps outside of our warehouse reported to us that there was a dead goat dumped behind the warehouse.
A dead DECAPITATED goat.
An investigation was launched, and a couple of Dolls took a walk around the property on Dead Goat Patrol. Unfortunately, they did indeed find a plastic tarp with a fuzzy tail sticking out from underneath it.
A call to Animal Control brought the reply of, "Call Sanitation".
A call to Sanitation brought the reply of, "Too bad. We're not in."
WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!
Sorry. We'll pick up the goat this week.
So the Dolls had to go out with shovels and heave the goat's carcass into a trash can, and then dragged the can back to the parking lot, wrapped the can with a buttload of Caution tape, and supposedly Sanitation will come by on Tuesday to pick up the goat.
That's so damn disturbing, it's seriously creeping out the majority of the league. I'm considering bringing some sage to the spot where the goat was found and do a little smudging.
On a happier note, here's the intro that was played before the game on Saturday. It's rad:
At the Annie Awards last week(an event I've vowed never to attend unless I get nominated for something...which means I'll be saving myself time, money, and a dress 'cos I don't get nominated for anything in animationland), the voice cast from Spongebob Squarepants made a little video that you can see here.
On Cartoon Brew, they had a YouTube copy of it, but were asked to take it down. Jeezus, why? Because it's FUNNY?! Probably because of copyright infringement or some stoopid thing like that.
You can tell that this drawing was done near the end of my oh-my-gosh-I'm-a-sequence-director-for-the-first-time experience:
I was quite the stressbucket by the end of the production. Action Boy was disgusted by the flying snot, but thought the overall idea was "cute".
Sicko.
This weekend is the husband's 50th Birthday.
Nope, I'm not a necrophiliac, that's just my husband! Ahahahahahahha!!!!!!!!
Uh...
Anyway, we're having a partay for him. We've invited everyone we know in town. We've cleaned up the back yard, bought some food, and even swept up some of the dustbunnies. It should be fun. Cold, but fun. At least it won't rain.
And speaking of fun and sequence directing, I'll be doing it again in two weeks. I'm not quite as freaked out this go-around as last time, but the stress level is definitely going up. I won't be babysat like I was last time...I'll actually have to know stuff this time! CRAP!
The ramblings, doodles, and misadventures of an animatin', roller derby-playin', drunk-doodlin', murdersickle-ridin' goofball woman in Lost Strangeles. You can try to shut me up, but it probably won't work.
