Greetings Derby-loving Whovians!
I will be bringing shirts with the GRD logo to Gallifrey One!
Shirts will be $15 each. Please let me know if you have any size or shirt color requests!
Otherwise, I will have black tees and tanks in S - XL.
Inbox me, or hit me up at jvfriedman at gmail dot com!
See you in LA!
On a much, much happier note…
My father and my brother came into town this weekend to come to my birthday party and see me skate in a scrimmage.
My brother got this shot on his phone (why it’s so grainy), and it’s the first action shot of me skating where I don’t hate my form.
My family got to see my team win, and got to see me execute some jammer takeouts and other effective playing.
It meant so, so much to me to have them get to see me skate. After my Dad came down in April and saw a bout, the first thing he said to me was “When do I get to see you do that?”
When I arrived to pick them up at their hotel, my Dad was wearing a t-shirt that said, “Roller Derby Dad: My Daughter Can Beat Up You[sic] Son”
I nearly burst into happy tears when I saw it.
It was truly a fantastic, beautiful weekend.
I will get back on the wagon of my PT exercises from last winter, ice the crap out of my leg, and rest.
My COBRA hasn't kicked in yet, so I had to drop a lot of money to be told that, but seeing as I can get it reimbursed later, I was happy to do so.
[Bad username or site: merlyn4401: @ livejournal.com] It sounded like there was some bursa stuff going on, too, based on what the doctor said. I asm unsurprised. ;)
I spent the last two weeks day dreaming about this PERFECT place, contacted a real estate agent, and then was told it’s been off the market for almost a year. Did I want to see similar properties in the area?
NO! I WANTED TO SEE THAT PROPERTY.
Guys, I didn’t even WANT to buy a house until I saw this one. Four bedrooms! Pool! Less than a mile to my favorite restaurant! Bike-safe commutes for me and my boyfriend!
It’s off the market. Do I want to see similar properties?
Nope. I wanted that one.
I am two, desperately needed, beverages in.
Today highlighted that despite the one that I'm the one deeply fucking up, I have to be the one to call the come to Jesus meetings.
I am out of evens to can't, and I'm torn between spending hours hip deep in work documents this weekend, and telling them all to go blow.
Whoops, flight called. See you on Pacific Time.
edited to add: if it doesn't work out, we'll take her back. We don't want her homeless or in a shelter!
The guy who helps us keep house is just as big a mushball for cats as well are. Unfortunately, he is up to his limit with 5 cats. He knew about this girl, one of the cats in the area around his yard, and when he saw her developing a little football belly, he brought her straight to us. She isn't feral like the other cats he keeps an eye on, so she came along very willingly, and because we already have a houseful, she's been living in our mud room. She would VERY much like a forever home and family of her own!
For obvious reasons, we've named her Ms. Moustache (pronounced the French way, moo-STASH). If you live within driving distance of Syracuse NY and can convince me you will take care of her and can keep her on a permanent basis, she is yours. She has had her shots, and she is spayed. Something happened to her tail, so it isn't as long as she would like, because you know she's the kind of sweetie who would love to wave her tail in the air!
And here is a picture of this ham:
Ever since, the tell-tale whistle of Nerf ballistics can be heard through the office at random intervals. No full-on war has started again, but skirmishes still occur.
One afternoon, late in the day, I found myself in a standoff with a friend. And then suddenly, something hit me in the right butt-cheek. Having only seen my friend with a weapon in his hand, I proceeded to empty the rest of my clip at him, as he protested that it hadn't been him.
He also swore he wouldn't tell me who had taken the shot.
I pressed him for why, and he finally side-stepped apologetically to the phrase, "Bros before hos," further backpedaling with, "You're not a 'ho, but you're also not a bro."
And that was when I got offended.
This is a dude I'd talked with at length about video games, music, and drugs. We'd talked about relationships and our families. I often gave him a lift home.
At no point did I ever think I'd be considered "other" simply because I'm a woman.
But apparently I was.
People, this is rape culture distilled. If he wasn't going to tell me who shot me in the butt with a Nerf dart because of perceived gender difference, what the hell else won't he interfere with? Even if he doesn't realize the scalable nature of this stance?
I know this guy thinks of himself as a good guy--and he is! But...his firm insistence that he "couldn't sell out a bro" tells me that in his eyes, as cool as he may think I am, I'm still "other," and possibly "lesser," even if he doesn't realize it.
At its bare bones, this is a story of someone defending another's actions simply because of his gender versus mine. And that shit ain't cool.
This year, I'm thankful for Roller Derby.
Because of Roller Derby, I am now in the best shape in my life. I don't mean I dropped 20lbs and am now made of rock.
I mean last week I was able to do ten minutes of sprint intervals. I mean that my resting heart rate is 64bpm. I mean that my labs are textbook perfect.
Wanting to improve my skating finally got me to an orthopedist for pain in my right leg that had been plaguing me for years, which got me into physical therapy. I saw an almost immediate improvement in my skating, and now I have hope of resolving chronic pain that was impacting my life in ways I didn't even realize.
I'm thankful that by signing up for this one thing, I went from knowing a handful of people in my new town, to knowing many people. My weekends of sitting at my computer wondering where the party is are a thing of the past. Okay, I still do that sometimes, but then, don't we all?
In all seriousness, derby really did take me from "I live in Austin," to being an active member of the community.
I am thankful for the wonderful women I now have in my life. They make me laugh, support me, cheer me on, and make me push myself until my legs come out from under me from exhaustion.
I am so thankful I finally chased this long-ignored desire.
Back in 2007, I worked for a now-defunct adult website.
In preparation for recording videos, one of my bosses ordered the big, phonebook sized costume catalogs from companies like Leg Avenue. I leafed through them with fascination, because, after all, I'm a costume geek at heart.
And then suddenly it dawned on me:
We, as a society, have so bought in to the "Halloween is the time to for women dress like a stripper" idea, that literally, we go to costume stores and buy actual costumes marketed to the adult industry the other eleven months of the year.
There is so much to be said here involving slut shaming, stigmatization of sex workers, the virgin/whore dichotomy, the commoditization of women's bodies, etc etc etc.
There's nothing wrong with sexy costumes, please don't misunderstand me. I just wanted to highlight the extremely literal manifestation of this societal idea.
When her parents have a fight over the fact Margaret’s maternal grandparents come to visit, her father shouts something to the effect of, “What, do they want to see she doesn’t have horns?”
I always understood that as “they’ve never seen her, maybe she has horns.”
This morning my brain put the “horns” + “Anti-semites think Jews have horns” together.
I know all the stuff about maxi pads having belts got updated, did that get changed, too?