She's been hunted, she's been shot at, she's been...

Bonjour.

Well, again, I have left it a little too long.  I kinda think I have an excuse though, as I am currently on my small business (cert IV) course.  'For what business' you say?  I can't tell you.  But, in good time I will be plastering it all over here and shoving it down your throats so don't despair.  Some things I can tell you it's not:

• It's not a pyramid scheme,
• It's not a nutrimetics franchise,
• It's not a personalised lingerie line (though that would be very lucrative, presuming everyone wants nothing but boyleg hipsters),
• It's not manufacturing life-like 'companion' dolls,
• And it's definitely not workin' for the man, I will be my own boss.  Cos I'm bossy like that.

Ok.  News:

1. I was selected to play roller derby for Adelaide and then Australia,
2. I decided to start my own business (already discussed),
3. I got a 2A for my honours and
4. I sing in a band.  I use that term loosely.

Ok, so firstly my honours.  Since I was simply praying for a pass, I was stoked.  Now, giddy with the knowledge that somebody liked what I wrote - I'm going to apply for my PhD.  I might get accepted, I might not, but I'll never know if I don't go for it.  So that's in December.  I have a (what I think is a) killer plan for my project but again, I can't divulge lest one of you crooks steal it.

Moving on.  So, Michi called me a few weeks ago, the convo went like this:

Me: 'hi!  What's up?'

Michi: 'nothin.  Wanna sing in our band?'

Me: 'ok!!' (thinking that she meant practicing for a few months so I can actually learn to sing)

Michi: 'wachoo doing this Sat'dy?'

Me: 'oh... nothin' I don't think...'

Michi: 'good.  We have a gig.'

o_O

So.  I had about five days to learn 10-15 songs.  Now, you think that would be easy - just listen to them a few (hundred) times and the words will sink in.  Nope, not quite how it works.  When you have Kurt Cobain, Eddie Vedder or Jim Morrisson singing along with you, you can fudge the notes a little and just sing soft and it's all good.  When you are the only singer, it gets hairy.  We had two jams before the gig, but surprisingly, it went well!  It helps that Michi, Jars and Tash are so talented (at the bass, lead guitar and drums respectively) so they sound wicked.  The gig was a private party with an interesting array of ages present, probably from about 18 to maybe early 60s.  We play covers of old rock, new rock, blues and a bit of other stuff in between, so there was something for everyone.  In a fit of nerves, I introduced myself as Robot Rocket, RoRo for short.  It was heaps of fun, we had people dancing and all!  Thus, 50 Cycle Hum was born.

We had another gig recently at the same place.  We had some more songs by then, and I sang for three sets (after the usual acoustic style set with Michi and jars which they KILL).  Set one I loved - Creep (Radiohead style) was in there, and I friggin love singing that, especially when I can hit all the notes.  Set two I made a few booboos, but the fantastical music stylings of the band picked up my slack.  Set three was wicked and ended with Michi and I swapping - I played bass (like Rainman) while she sang Rockin' in the Free World.  Michi and Tash also do some wicked fusion kinda thing with Michi singing verses of things and Tash rhyming in between them.  They did it to Mercedes Benz that night.
We even met a lady called Trudy - who likes to dance:

The gig was for Tash's Dad's birthday and he was super pleased.  We took a few other friends with us and also met some crazy Kiwis who were doing up a bus for road tripping and drinking homemade alcohol.  They poured it on the bench an set it on fire.  Then they let us get on the roof of the bus.  One of the people we brought with us was a Canadian girl who is playing hockey with the local chick's team, the Adelaide Adrenaline.  She and I shared this exchange:

Me: 'I'm a robot.'

Her: 'no you're not.'

Me: 'well I'm not human.'

Her: 'no, of course you're not, you're a precious gem stone.'

Me: 'really?  Ok.  Wait, what?'

Her: 'you're a piece of amber (which, by the way is my favourite stone).'

Me: 'are we even having this conversation (I turned to Mercedes and she confirmed that we were) actually, I really love amber, but I think it's only semi-precious at best.'

Her: 'I'm not even human!'

Me: 'wait, what?'

Her: 'I'm not a person.'

Me: 'then what are you?'

Her: 'uh, duh.  A shiny diamond!'

Me: 'I really feel like I'm on acid right now.'

Then she laughed and fell asleep on the couch.  The moonshine did it, I think.

So, that's the band.  We have a gig at the Squatters Nov 18th to raise money for my trip to Canada to play in the world cup for derby.

Ok, onto derby stories.  So yeah, I'm playing for Adelaide and have now been selected to play in team Aus.  I'm super pumped!  The world cup is in Toronto in December.  In the meantime we have had two games for Adelaide (the Adeladies), one in Perth (where I did not play) and one in Newcastle just this weekend gone.  We then have one coming up at the end of this month in New Zealand.

So, the weekend.  first, the team.  An absolute pleasure playing with all of them.  As it happened, there were quite a lot of Road Train Rollers on the Adeladies that trip, so I was comfortable playing with GoGo Fiasco (a blocking machine), Bride of Skatan (a calming influence and great spacemaker), Whimsical Mimsical (jammer extraordinaire and comic relief), Letta Loose (fearless blocker and premium whip-giver) and Kit Cat Krunch, who can only be described as a GUN.  Salties we had on board were Coconut Rough (wall-making genius), Moe Skeeto (back-of-the-pack assassin), Melvin Star (wicked jammer and even wickeder jammer assister) and She-Ra (sneaky surprise blocker).  Mile Die Club was repped by Grimy Knickers (dark horse surprise blocker) and Wild Hearses sent The Little Murdermaid (partner in crime of Letta Loose and relentless jammer smasher), Lashez (creepily calm murderous sniper) and Pixie Pincher (lithe, dancer-type phantomish jammer and sneaky blocktress).  We were coached by Vaderella (famous for booty block straight from the depths of hades) and our Bench Manager was Psycho Fox (cool, focused and quick-to-think).  We all traveled to Newcastle on Friday or before, settled into our various accomodations and tried to get some sleep before the big game.  I was nervous, as I knew Newy had some wicked skaters on it and also I was not nearly as fit as I wanted to be.  I've been having back issues and also my tummy is playing up so I've been a little off.  Anyway, I woke up with conjunctivitis in one eye.  Just one.  The left one.  Great.  Luckily my sister Francesca had an unopened tube of eye ointment which I put in.  It began to help almost immediately, but my conjunctiva was still inflamed and my vision was all screwy.  I was really hoping to be able to see the track, or at least differentiate colours of uniforms.  Francesca dropped me off and I went inside - it was a lot bigger than the venue in which we play at home.  It had room for a few thousand.  The team arrived shortly after and we went into our changerooms.  I decided which chair I wanted and clarified with Skato that it was cool.  Then, every time throughout the day after that when I caught her in my it, I said 'this better be some sort of sick fucking joke' and she moved.  We warmed up, discovered the track was sticky as snot on loctite and changed our wheels.  Blah blah time passed and we found ourselves ready to roll.  It was really different and I won't lie - nerve wracking to play a team where 90% of them I had never seen play.  I didn't jam much in the first half - I kept getting put in the pack, which was fine with me, as I want to be a better all-round player anyway.  The bout started and it was clear this would not be an easy slog for either team.  Points crawled onto the scoreboard until we capitalised on a jammer penalty for the Dockyard Dames and cranked a few up there, giving us a 15-20 point lead (you know me, I can never remember much from bouts)  At one point, they took the lead back, and then we did again.  The Dames never let up, and we ended the first half with a similar lead, maybe 15-20 or so.  There were some great plays by Newy - Suzy Pow, GodJilla, DangeRass, Beaver Destruction, Booga, The Cramp, Babycakes, Hippie hardass and more.  The half-time entertainment was a Kiss tribute band, Dressed To Kill.  They were amazing - though if I never see another man in a lycra onesy again, it'll be too soon.  Well, I do know one man who can pull them off - The Brain of Morbius can wear them every day of the week.

We came back out to the track, and after they announced the myriad of jubilant winners from the plethora of raffles, we were ready to get underway.  Fittingly, Eye of the Tiger played right before we started, and despite getting the chorus in the wrong spot and having to awkwardly mumble until it did come on (then finishing with gusto and roof punches), we got down to business.  The second period was very penalty-heavy for us and very nearly led to our downfall, and we began to trail the Dames.  Vaderella and Psycho Fox were super calm and collected, which helped heaps. 
The jams go into a blur for a while there but I can remember coming off after a pretty good jam, I think I may have got a double grand slam (the other jammer was in the box I think) and looking at the score only to see we were still quite a way behind, maybe something like 89 - 103 or thereabouts.  I started to get worried, I think we only had about 6 mins left.  But, we started inching and inching our way back up, and all of a sudden Fox handed me the jammer panty and sent us out for the last jam - 119 points each.  Blocking in my pack were Grimy Knickers, Coco, Murders and I think Moe (stupid memory).  I was up against Babycakes, who was on fire.  The crowd were stomping their feet on the grandstands and chanting 'NEW-CA-STLE'.  We smiled at each other and I think I said something lame-o like 'this is why we do it, eh?' - say that out loud in the voice of a douche and you will perfectly recreate what I sounded like.  The whistles blew and we were off.  As I was about to exit the pack, I was hit to the outside of the track.  As is my habit, I looked at the feet of the girl who hit me, and saw that not only did she go out of bounds, but she fell down also, putting her out of play and allowing me to jump back on the track in front of her sans penalty.  Somehow, my jam ref didn't see this and started yelling at me to go off for a major.  I just kept skating, presuming that he would be set right by his outside ref who surely had seen it, but that didn't pan out and he was screaming at me to go off.  I then turned to him and shouted whilst pointing in the direction of the fallen Dame 'NO!  SHE FELL DOWN!!  SHE FELL DOWN!!'  He then finally looked to his outside pack ref, who must have given him the nod and looked at me, rolled his eyes, sort of shrugged and said 'uh... ok, minor then.'
o_O
So I skated my ass off to catch up to Babycakes, who had a half a lap lead on me since that whole fiasco started.  It felt like my whole bench was screaming at me to skate hard and I thought I might hurl my cookies all over the track.  I think this is what happened next: my amazing blocking team held up Babycakes at the back for enough time for me to catch up.  I think we then started scrambling through the pack together.  She was lead and called it off after passing two, I had only passed one.  Luckily for the Adeladies, there were two Dames in the box, which gave me two ghost points when I passed that one blocker, which meant ADRD 122, Dames 121. 
Wow.
It was a bloody hard game and such an exciting finish!  The thing I love the most about it is this: people who don't know a lot about derby can easily get caught up in the jammers, to the point of thinking they make or break a game.  I don't care how good of a jammer you are, without amazing blockers in your team of five out there on the track, you have nothing.  If they didn't hold her up that jam, I would have never made it to the pack.  Boom.
So that was that.  Mad props to Kit Cat Krunch and Godjilla Sold Separately for winning player of the match, they worked so hard!
The afterparty was cool, but a bit annoying, as Newy has a curfew.  I don't mean that the police roam the streets shooting anyone who isn't in their bed by midnight.  I mean that if you are not inside a club by 1am, you can't get in.  Game over, go home.  We were inside the great Northern, who promptly kicked us out at about 1:45.  Thanks. 
So, we were all milling about outside when Skato ran up to me, grabbed my arm and wrenched me over to where they had found these two french Canadian guys.  They wanted me to speak French (even though Letta can speak it fine and they spoke English).  The guys were super nice and took us back to their place, where they had beer, wine and clean undies in the dryer which Mims and Skato then wore as hats:

The first time I went to the toilet, I used the tap to wash my hands - it looked like this:
I grabbed the handle bit and pulled.  The wrong way.  It snapped off.  I made a noise like 'LLLLLLLL' and tried to put it back on.  It was a gonner.  So I hid it.  Later that night, I used the hand towel to dry my hands and knocked a tea light candle into the bowl.  Winner.
After a while, we decided to leave.  Lashez tried to steal a wicker vase as big as herself to no avail.  We returned to the Backpackers and I was taken into a room where some people had made a fort.  The lights went out and I stumbled into it, flailing and knocking it down.  I thought it was time for a cab, so I called one, and made him stop so I could go into a 24 hour coles and buy pepperoni sausages.  When I got home, I realised I had been walking around for hours with the bottom of my pants rolled up like a goon.
The next day we had to catch the train back to Sydney.  I think I injured my abs from laughing.  Letta nursed us all on her lap for a cuddle (called 'shush-a-go'), we re-enacted the scene from Dirty Dancing where Johnny lifts baby in the dance (Skato was Baby and we were all Johnny) and Mims and Skato performed a play about an underwater half eel-half woman.
The weekend was a screaming success, but not just because of the game.  We all had a wicked time.  I got closer to girls from the other teams in my league, I got to see my sister and her partner for the first time in over a year, and I figured out just how taps work.
So, at the risk of rushing the end to this, I'm ending it here.  It's long enough.  Thank you for your time.
Remember: Only a half man-half eel will match up perfectly with a half woman-half eel.
Until next time,
Tx
P.S. How much of a creep do I look like here? 

Outrageous Robot Humping

Ok, I apologise, it's been too long.  I don't even really have an excuse, unless laziness counts.  If it does, then BACK OFF!  heh

What's happened in the comedy of errors that is my life since my last post?  I'll divulge chronologically...

I did not die from my grand final injuries (not even my critically injured ego) and recovered almost fully.  I still can't look at the ocean or any kind of water craft without shuddering, but I'm sure that will pass.

So a couple of weeks after the final I had my birthday.  I was looking forward to a relaxing weekend of tattooing, partying and robot shopping, but they do say that the best laid plans always fail, and they pretty much did.  The Thursday before the birthday weekend, my labrador Sunny got sick.  I had to take her to the vet twice in that one night.  the second time the vet gave her a shot of methodone and she couldn't stand up, bloody druggie.  I took her to the vet first thing Friday morning so they could take blood samples.  They kept her on a drip all day and released her to me that night.  We all thought she was better, but then she stayed awake all Friday night, squirming around in pain (poor thing) and moaning. I took her back Saturday morning, they took an x-ray and decided they needed to operate straight away.  They found nothing.  I needed to transfer her to the Animal hospital on Anzac Highway, all doped up and stitchy.  By this time, I'd given up on my tattoo appointment and partying that night, but thanks to the support of my sister Snowy (who was visiting and staying with me) and Mercedes, I ended up still dashing to Victor Harbour and fitting in the outline at least.  Behold, the awesomeness that is my steampunk tattoo by Jai at Victor Tattoo.  They have amazing, beautiful studios there and Jai let me watch the Dudesons the whole time.

From there we rushed to Boho, where my birthday dinner was scheduled to happen.  We got there almost two hours late but they were cool about it.  After we'd been upstairs eating and chilling out for about an hour, Vader and Lady came up and told me that there were people downstairs.  I told her to tell them to come up, presuming she meant three or four people. She told me to go down instead, and to my surprise and elation, there were so many of my friends there!  So, we got to partying.  I never had to buy myself a single drink, which both spoke volumes about the generosity of my friends and also how well they know me and what I want best: alcohol.  Below is some of the evidence of our partying:

Things started to get a little messy:

Then there was the series of 'shocked and affronted' pics:

Then there was some love:

But then there was some humping:

 

Then there was some sneaky ass tapping:

But mostly just good old fashioned partying:

Sunday morning I had to get up and go get Sunny.  She seemed heaps better but they still couldn't tell me what was causing her stomach issues.  I took her home with all her meds and her puckered tummy and hoped for the best.  Sunday Snowy, Michi, Mercedes and Kat took me to the robot shop and I bought four new babies!  Here they are:  

I really did get spoiled on my birthday.  Cede put a chunk of money towards my tattoo, got me lots of robut stuff and basically didn't let me pay for anything all weekend.  Kat had a star named 'Robi's Inspiration' for me, it's in the Crux constellation, right near Acrux, the bottom of the longest leg of the Southern Cross.  Snowy and Michi and Mum got me cool stuff and put money in for my tattoo too - yes indeed I was a star that weekend.

Later that week I woke up to Sunny sick again.  I was spewing.  I just wanted to find out what was going on.  She walked into the kitchen and hurled up a huge grass ball.  It stunk like human vomit and dog shit and I was retching as I picked it up.  I took her straight to the vet again, where we had to wait about half an hour for the vet to arrive.  She walked in the door, talked to us for about a minute and then Sunny threw up again, another MASSIVE grass wad.  The vet was surprised, she said that was the biggest grass ball she'd ever seen. When I told her that it was the second one she'd produced that day, she deduced that perhaps that was the reason for her stomach troubles.  That she thinks she's a cow and eats too much grass.  That she is a giant dumbass who eats shit and grass and costs me two grand when she can't shit it out.  Buuuuut, I wouldn't have done it any other way, she's my baby.

Something else interesting that happened between Sunny and now is that I discovered a fascination with RealDolls.  If you don't know what they are, look here (be aware: IT IS UNSAVOURY).  They're basically life sized dolls (presumably) meant primarily for sexual gratification if you can't get a real person to let you bone them.  I was perusing the website and all the accoutrements that are available to purchasers of a RealDoll (new or second hand) when I came across a RealDoll movie called Regarding Jenny.  Naturally, in a fit of giggles I made Kat look it up and we laughed our asses off at this 'film' featuring an inanimate object as its protagonist.  In that film, there is a scene where Jenny's boyfriend (a slightly jealous control freak and terrible actor to boot) is watching Lars and the real Girl, which I have not seen.  So, we rented it out.  It's a pretty good movie.  it's about a guy who has a delusion and he thinks his RealDoll is an actual person, and in the interest of helping him get through it his whole town also pretends she is real.  The thing about this whole story is jut how much of a pansy I have become.  I freely admit that I cry a lot at movies/tv/commercials/news/serious thoughts/kittens/old people/nice deeds etc but I hit a new low when I cried when the RealDoll (Bianca) died in the end.  I was busily losing myself in the moment, watching the funeral and touching camaraderie when I suddenly realised that I was weeping like a sissy for not only a MADE UP CHARACTER IN A FICTITIOUS TALE, but a 'character' that NEVER EVEN DEPICTED AN ACTUAL REAL PERSON.  I started to laugh, actually laugh and put a note in my iphone to blog about what a moron I am.

Speaking of morons, a few nights ago, I bumped myself up to King Tard status at the servo round the corner from Cede's house.  We had bought coffee each and were just getting into our car when the ladies in the car next to us asked Cede if she could help them find their way to Cross Road in Glen Osmond.  Since I'm always keen to prove that tattooed, pierced freaky hair chicks aren't murderers, I almost leapt the bonnet to whip out my google maps and show her.  We worked through the directions, and Cede took notes of all the turns and stuff for her as I read it out.  The lady said she was going to a rosary.  Since I had no idea what that was, I paid no attention: smart, me.  So, we sorted her out and were parting ways when I said 'Enjoy your evening', looking both women in the eyes in turn, to show that I was sincere, friendly and just generally a good egg.  As I was getting back into my car, I said to Cede 

'That came across as quite forceful, I don't know why I said that so serious and loud...' to which she replied

'Yeah, especially since they were going to a funeral.'

'What?!?'

'Yeah, what do you think a Rosary is?'

'I don't know!  I thought it was just some religious thing where they sit around and count beads!'

She laughed at me for a while and I stewed in my doucheness.

Well, that's about it for now - I have some bouts coming up soon, so I'll report on them and any other instances of my most massive idiotic nature.

ENJOY YOUR EVENING.

Tx

Oh, and I went to a party dressed as Jem.  Outrageous.

Welcome back Kotter... or should I say codger?

It's rare that I will refer to myself as 'old', even more seldom as a 'codger', but I feel like one today.  I'm all creaks and groans and I have dropped things on the floor and left them there because I am just not doing any bending today.  I'm not even talking heavy shit: I blew my nose and missed the bin with the tissue.  Yup, I'm that gross.  And sore.

So, in true Robyn (narcissistic) style, I take this opportunity to welcome myself back to my own blog from the murky depths of my honours thesis panic.  I call it the thesis madness of 2011.  Don't get me wrong, I am happy that I did honours, and I'm not trying to say that it's the hardest thing in the world to do.  Bazillions of people do it and way harder stuff like expel a tiny human from their hooha or climb a freezing mountain and return sans several toes, but for me, in my life, it was hard.  I had to juggle the thesis madness of 2011 with continuing sickness and a break-up also.  I was not in the least surprised that I left it until the last possible minute that I could - after all, I have done that my entire degree.  But, whoa, the relief when I handed that sucker in!  So, that's done and now I can return to the world of writing for pleasure and hopefully one day, pleasure AND money.  Dirty, dirty word money.

Ok, so that done, let's talk about the Grand Final double header.  From my personal point of view, I had a bit of a tough season.  I never got to the fitness level I wanted to, injured my knee over and over and was sick constantly.  I did not play to my potential in our game.  I call it the great non-event of 2011.  From a team point of view, we had a bit of a rough start too.  We managed to get ourselves into the Final, buuuuuuut...

The Salty Dolls (who we played) were undefeated all season, and were on fire.  They came at us like a bull at a gate, and we came at them like a sloth at a tree.  Like usual, I can't remember a lot but I do know that everything we talked about, everything we practiced basically got left behind in the changeroom and we just populated the penalty box with pretty much two blockers per jam instead.  The Dolls never missed a beat, capitalised on every jam and left us at half time trailing 87 to a pathetic 19.  We had a pretty good chat in the changeroom and came out for the second half ready for some action.  If only it mattered who won halves, because we outscored them 61-59 in the second.  Just that pesky 68 point defecit from the first half killed us...  That, and penalties.  Bride of Skatan: ejected.  Violent Krumble: ejected.  I've never been caught behind so many walls in my life. 

So.  Without doubt the better team won on the day, on the track.  The afterparty is another story...

We began at the Ed Castle.  I was sitting with friends and my girlfriend Mercedes.  One of my oldest and best mates Tash was there, and Tash and I have a running joke/game of punching each other in the vajayjay.  Punching each other lightly/playfully, not actually hard blows.  Really mound punching, not, you know, underneath.  So we were all chatting, laughing and generally being jovial and then Mercedes called me over.  I thought she might be going to pinch me on the arm skin so I said 'no, you're going to pinch me', to which she replied that she wouldn't.  I made her promise.  I strode confidently over, thinking I was going to get a cuddle, and walked directly into her fist smashing into my box.  It dropped me to the floor like a sack of shit, in front of everyone.  I didn't cry, but Thor's hammer did it hurt!!  I was in shock that she would do that.  She was in shock that it connected so well.  According to her, she didn't mean to do it that hard.  Tash had told her to do it.  My poor punani was in shock and I briefly considered an ice pack but then decided to just kill it with booze.  I call it the great junk punch of 2011.  The pain gradually subsided and the table talk moved on from speculation over why my own girlfriend would punch me in the mermaid's purse.  Then, a little while later... comeuppance.  I wasn't planning any revenge, because Mercedes clearly felt terrible about it, so this happy accident led me to believe that the universe itself just wanted her to know that punching your girl in the junk is just not on.  I had just gone and fetched drinks for us and she had a brand new pint of cider in front of her.  I got a little animated (as I do) and brought my fist down on the table to emphasise whatever point I was making.  The cro-magnon table punch promptly tipped the cider directly into her lap and she wound up with frozen junk and looking like she wet her pants.  I call it the great cider caper of 2011.

From the Ed we went to LaSing and, well, that's when shit got weird.  Vader and I did our usual duet, this time to Built This City, and we all kept drinking.  The spring rolls flowed like wine and at some point I snagged myself some Pad Thai (I think) and was feeding it to people.  Somehow I had made myself two new friends, a guy with a wicked mohawk and wearing a Road Train Rollers T shirt and also a little gay guy who kept telling me I had a great rack.  I do.  I then let him feel it and he, in return offered that I could cup his business.  Never one to be rude, I had a little feel.  I couldn't discern any bulge to speak of in his baggy jeans, so he undid them and showed us all his undies.  He then explained the advantages of that particular underwear, in that they lifted his belongings up and out, so as to present them better maybe, I don't know.  I then poked him on his junk and left it at that.  We stayed at LaSing until the lights came on and then I got myself three meat patties from Hungry Jack's and went home.

The Grand Final for 2011 did not play out as we had hoped, but we partied hard nonetheless and, as usual, won the afterparty.  Today, I'm covered in bruises, still have a sore jootz and am still giggling about spilling that cider, so it wasn't all a loss.

Hey, p.s. now that I'm finished Uni I need a job.  Anyone got one going?  I will work for any currency but bananas.

Tx