It's Monday, %$@#!!!

I confessed to someone this weekend, that one of the things on my "bucket list" is to beat the ever-loving shit out of someone who really deserves it...vigilante style.  A burglar, for instance...or a violent transient, or an unruly tourist who threatens my lobby...I'm not terribly picky, they just have to start it.  Conditions are right for that wish to possibly be fulfilled in the next few hours...I am just in a foul mood today.  I suppose I preface with that in an attempt to excuse anything that seems particularly amiss about this post.  Ho hum.

For the sake of the full-disclosure theme that this blog tends to carry, I admit that I'm extremely frustrated that my return to skating has not really been as amazing as I had imagined.  I have no idea why I would have thought that just because I was released to start skating again, that everything would be completely back to normal and raring to go.  It's got me feeling a little lost at the moment.  It's just so damn painful and tedious and clumsy.  I am an impatient person and don't follow rules well, so temper tantrums are inevitable when these kind of road blocks show up in my life.  I guess I just wanted to say all of this to commiserate with anyone else going through it.  It sucks, doesn't it?!  We'll get through it, though, right?  It may be slow, but derby's not going anywhere; it will still be here when we're ready to train at full capacity.


Note the right-dominant scuff marks...I really need

to work on that.  (I realize I take a lot of pics of my

legs/feet. If someone with a fetish is reading this...

ummm...you're welcome?) 

On a lighter note, I hereby declare Smith Scabs to be the official pads of my knees.  I was a little worried about the slightly more rounded cap throwing me off a bit when I land, but after trying them out on the warehouse's coated concrete, I've decided that I love them.  The cap material is also a little better for sliding on stickier floors, i.e. the coated blue floor at the ever so infamous Circus World (a small rink in a bowling alley...need I say more?).  In an attempt to break them in and to build my quads back up, I've taken to wearing them around the house and lunge walking/knee dropping wherever I go.  I am a freaking Beast!!  I'm thankful that these straps are so nicely adjustable for when I burst forth with giant, rock-solid skating thighs!  I'm pretty sure I could crack nuts with my knee pits now...infer what you will.  (Though I will tell you I'm allergic to peanuts & tree nuts.) 

My next little plan is to upgrade my skates.  I'm afraid my beginner R3s are just not very accommodating to an ankle brace.  I'm researching boots that offer a little more ankle support.  All suggestions are welcome...though I'm leaning in the Antik direction.  I'm weighing the idea that if I invest in better skates now, I can possibly prevent having to pay for more ER visits and surgeries later. 

In other news, as mentioned a couple of posts ago, my Friday night posse of "bawdy burger-loving broads" (cheap shot at alliteration!!), decided to try out something fantastically new this past weekend.  We were not in the least bit disappointed, and we did not make any enemies this time...that I know of.  The Pharmacy Burger Parlor and Beer Garden was a rather magnificent meat, carb, and beer fest.  My one burger a week quota (aka limit) was spectacularly realized with a local, grass-fed ground cow cooked to medium-well sublimity, enshrouded softly in gorgeously gooey cheddar and, at my request, muenster cheeses, and lovingly embedded on a hand patted and kneaded artisan bun from a local bakery.  Hand cut fries nestled in next to it and all sang a little unsurfeited fat and carb harmony.  I felt all kinds of Nashville love in that meal...and I was very sad when it was all over because I just didn't want it to end (but I'm glad it did, and that I'm not 600lbs.)  Though we usually try out new places every Friday, I think I'm going to have to set up residence at the Pharmacy for a while.  I still have 59 more beers to try, several kinds of soda fountain phosphates, and 2 other varieties of hand-cut potatoes (sweet potato fries, and tater tots!).  The evening continued with two other imbibing locales...one with fancy cocktails and one with the coldest, smoothest, straight-from-the-brewery style Yazoo Sly Rye (half of which, in a fit of maniacal gesturing, I ended up spilling on unofficially-named-Honey Punches' lap.  I did her laundry in return).  By the way, this paragraph was brought to you by thesaurus.com. 

Fyi - this only counts as 2

beers because it's a sampler.

SCORE!!!

Pic from Jackalope Brewery.

Along with our one burger a week limit, I've asked Curse Practitioner to further hold me to a two beer a week limit.  She promptly argued that that was not feasible and graciously upped it to three.  Micro-brewed craft beer on tap is my yuppie-hipster-pretentious weakness.  But so damn many of them in one weekend is really not going to get me skating any better...so I figure a little practice in discipline is necessary.  If I can pull off a three beer limit, surely I can pull off a full skating return.  Victory will be mine!!  This will also make me a little more selective in my beer choices, which will add to the abject ostentation when I order.  Oh but I do love to be just a little bit difficult!