Rollin' with my homies*

I know you're probably all anxious to hear about my exciting roller skating adventures, but first, I have a little housekeeping matter to grumble about a bit. Could someone please tell me how all the rest of you with Blogger accounts managed to switch over to the new version with seemingly no issue at all, but when I finally sucked it up and made the change myself, Blogger decided to turn half of your comments into "Anonymous" ones? We all know I fear change, so I ignored all those "Come on over to the new version! It's a party! All the cool people are here, and we're serving up drinks and snacks!" messages and stuck to the old version for weeks. I finally figure it's safe to hop over, and Blogger does me wrong like that? I am not pleased.

If anyone has any tips as to what I might have done to create this small yet annoying conundrum, please do fill me in. I suspect that it is not my fault, but given my lapses in tech savviness of late, I cannot be too sure. Case in point? I finally got on the ball and got myself a Bloglines account today (you know--so I can keep better track of all the clever and interesting things you're all saying in presumably a more timely manner). I managed to get all my favorite folks in my list, despite having no idea which feed to pick when presented with three or more similar options (RSS? Atom? What the hell is the difference, I ask? I went with the very scientific method of choosing the one with the largest number of existing subscribers, because, you know, when in doubt, mob mentality's the way to go). But when I went to log in again later, I actually sat in front of my computer, mind-blank, thinking, "What was that site again?" People, I forgot the word "Bloglines." There is no hope for me.

So now I am cranky and more annoyed than I should be (perspective is not always a strong suit of mine either, it seems), but luckily I know how to lift myself out of that annoyance, and that is by talking about roller skating. As I told a few people last week, I have not been roller skating in at least 13 years (and probably have been only two times total in the last 20 years), but yet, I was ridiculously excited about my Friday night plans, because I was operating on the theory that roller skating always = fun, no matter what the age or year or situation.

Friends, I am happy to report that my theory held true. I can't speak for any of my companions, but I know that I had a blast. There was skating, yes (in the same tan skates with brown laces and orange wheels and stoppers that I grew up with at Big Wheel Skate Center in Sheboygan**). But in addition to the skating, there was Skee-Ball and Pop-a-Shot with tickets redeemable for prizes. There was also a snack counter with nachos and slushies and a DJ propped up in a high, carpeted-wall booth. There was even a Chicken-lays-an-egg machine, the likes of which I haven't seen since the days my sisters and I traipsed to the ABC Grocer near my grandma's house on weekends when my parents were away. In short, I was on nostalgia overload, and I loved every minute of it.

I am happy to report that I did not fall once. I am less happy to report that the aforementioned DJ did not play Beat it, nor did he play the Ghostbusters theme or that other song -R- was pulling for last week. In other words, the music pretty much sucked ("Old School and Funk" apparently means heavy on the "Funk," not-so-much on the "Old School"). In addition, there were creepy loner guys a-plenty, so for any of you hoping I'd find an interesting couple-skate partner, I have to disappoint you by saying that I pretty much avoided eye contact with all single-looking men on the floor. In an e-mail last week, The Magical Boy warned me that if I see any slightly burly and shady-looking blond women, I should get the hell out of there. I'll have to tell him that wife-beater-wearing, slicked-back-hair-sporting guys were a much bigger concern for me, but I avoided them nonetheless. Frankly, creepy, greasy guys are actually a pretty familiar aspect of roller skating that I'd somehow all but forgotten about, so I'll chalk that up to nostalgia as well and take no bad memories from it nonetheless.

Anyway, you asked for photos, and I do aim to please, so here are a few pictures from the evening...

Here -R- and I are, getting ready to hit the rink...



And here's -R- and the Incredible H, looking adorable as usual...



Incidentally, -H- has a real name, and it does not even start with the letter "H," and yet, I cannot help calling him "H" in person nonetheless. It's a drawback of web aliases, I have to say. He'll just have to deal with it, I think.

Here are some of my friends skating, proving that roller skating really is like riding a bicycle, i.e., you never quite forget how to do it...







I got very few pictures of myself in action, what with being in control of only my own camera and all. I have to say I'm impressed I didn't drop and roll over the damn thing, pulling it out of my pocket repeatedly throughout the night. In any case, here are my feet on skates, the only photo-evidence I have of my being out there and upright on the rink.



Here I am playing Skee-Ball, however, in case that's a consolation of any sort.



This is apparently the face I make when I'm disturbed that the newfangled balls are made of plastic instead of wood.



And this is the face I make when I retrieve my tickets from the machine after a reasonably admirable showing in the game.



My ticket-gaining was nothing, however, in comparison to Lisa and Ryan's efforts at Pop-a-Shot...



They took home a Whoopie Cushion and several stickers and temporary tattoos. I traded my tickets for a blue, irridescent dinosaur who's currently monitoring my, er, monitor...



...as well as a shiny ring that was, unfortunately, so uncomfortable that I've already misplaced the damn thing somehow. It matched the one Jamie cashed in her tickets for, however, so we had a "Wonder Twin Powers Activate" moment to commemorate the whole event:



-R- and -H- are Wonder Twins as well, though they went the less girly and shiny route and chose creepy black spider rings instead. (I didn't get a close-up, so you'll just have to trust me on the details in both cases.)



And that about wraps things up, I think. I hope your weekend involved bad oldies and plastic spiders and chicken vending machines as well, but if you weren't so lucky, I hope you had a fine time nonetheless.




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* I know, I know: that subject line was cheap and predictable, but what would you have titled this one? "Roll with it, baby"? "Roll on"? "On a Roll"? Frankly, this is just one of those times where the cliched and predictable subject lines are the only ones coming to mind.

** I mean same as in same style, but frankly, they were quite likely the same exact skates that have been on the shelves since 1984 as well, given the amount of wear the poor skates showed.