I can't believe I didn't immediately report on the Pro-Choice Resources Bowl-a-thon I've been shilling for here. First, the money: y'all helped me raise $1350 for PCR's programs, which kicks ass. Thank you. My team, Spare Us From the MCCL (MN Citizens Concerned for Life), was first overall in fundraising, hauling in $4499. And the event itself raised $63,110, well over the goal of $60K. So the fundraiser was a rip-roaring success.
As for the bowling, I profoundly sucked. The event is held at a charmingly ramshackle bowling alley/restaurant/bar/theater, and good luck finding a ball that both fits your hand and is not 1000 pounds. I had no such luck and flailed all over the lane, coming in at a personal low of 63. But it was super-fun and just brimming with good vibes, and it was great to hang out with my friends and meet some new people. Also, since my team got first place for fundraising, we won a bowling party for 40--which means I can try to redeem myself, bowling-wise, in the near future.
Until next year, I salute you, donors.
Last night, which incidentally was the first mild, lovely night of the spring, my sisters and I went to the final MN Rollergirls bout of the season. They roll in downtown St. Paul at a venue that is shitty for concerts but awesome for flat-track roller derby, at least from a spectator's perspective. There's so much general balcony seating that there's hardly a bad seat in the house. We took our sweet time getting there from our pre-bout dinner at Tanpopo (oh deeelicious kitsune soba noodles, slurp slurp), so ended up way in the nosebleed section. Even so, it felt like we were pretty close, and I reminisced that I had seen Cyndi Lauper in 1985 from roughly the same vantage and remembered her being far, far away.
I highly recommend viewing some roller derby if you have it in your area. I am easily moved, it's true, but I find it totally exhilarating to watch a sport in which the players are women with bodies that look like mine, and like yours, and hers. It makes me want to put on striped tights and booty shorts and hipcheck the shit out of someone. However, I personally know someone who broke her leg doing roller derby, so I'd say the likelihood of me pursuing it is slim. But I could still wear the outfit and go rollerskating.
Anyway, so we were having a grand time up in the balcony when a dude in staff shirt tagged us and asked if we'd be interested in sitting trackside. Hell yes! I said. So we followed him downstairs and he installed us on the floor--literally asses on the floor--like 10 feet away from the track, and 0 feet away from where the skaters come careening into you when things go awry during the jam (which is what each round is called, which is awesome). It was exciting and a little nerve-wracking, but we never got jacked. However, it was obvious at such close range how flippin' fast they were actually going, and how I probably REALLY don't want to break my leg in pursuit of the sport of roller derby.
We had an important karaoke appointment planned after the bout, so we dipped out early and Molly immediately started mock-whining about how far away I'd parked the car. So you can imagine how righteous it was that there was a dude with a bike rickshaw directly outside the door, waiting for his next fare. I'm sure he didn't think it would be like 500+ pounds of ladies but he was game and it was definitely the most fun thing ever. Downtown St. Paul is utterly desolate at night unless there is a big event, so we sailed down the middle of the street and waved at all the cross traffic. Completely delightful.
We capped off the night with karaoke foolishness at a bar very appreciative of our contributions. I didn't do anything new (Give It Up Or Let Me Go, Son of a Preacher Man), though the Dusty Springfield was way better than the last time I did it. But I wrote down lots of ideas for next time in my little notebook. I have to figure out if Tell Me Something Good works for me. Emily completely rocked Bathwater by No Doubt, and Molly sang 9 to 5, and I can't remember what else they sang because beer (not really). My friend Leah kicked out some Go-Gos, and I joined her for Pour Some Sugar on Me, which was the last song of the entire night. Then I hugged some wannabe Guidos (for real) and retired. Of course today my voice is absolutely thrashed, but it's worth it once in awhile.
Here's to more springtime jams.