OK, I have to confess to something: one of the reasons we haven’t been going roller skating anymore is because I hated how Henry became Man of the Motherfucking Hour as soon as we walked into that damn roller rink, and also the new owners irritate me. They’re super-religious (Sunday afternoon sessions are now primarily sound-tracked by Contemporary Christian music; no, just no) and it’s almost like their Christlike eyes give them x-ray vision into the upside down cross seared into the inside of my bottom lip. I don’t know, they just make me uncomfortable, OK? They took over the joint and EVERYTHING CHANGED. I hate change.
But I love to roller skate, and there’s something about the suffocating winter months that make it almost feel like a necessity. Get me out of the fucking house!
Owner Wife took our admission tickets from us (it always seemed ridiculous to me that we buy tickets, walk two feet and then hand them over; what a waste of whatever admission tickets are made of) and I’m happy to report that she did not seem to remember us. Immediately, I spotted Paul, Henry’s Rink Ref Bromance, on the rink but he did not return my wave. I was pretty pissed off and Henry was like, “Well, you look a lot different now.” Um, I do? OH OK.
Henry had to lace my skates, just like old times. The last time I was there, it was sans Henry so I had to do it myself. It was really taxing and it’s a miracle I had any energy left to skate. A true ridiculous miracle.
I couldn’t wait to see Roller DJ! It’s been awhile so I thought maybe he would lift me up like a tiny dancer (I’m tiny in comparison to him, OK?!) and then we would do some disgusting Saturday Night Fever on Wheels bullshit because that’s real life. But halfway to his DJ Cave, I skidded to a halt because it wasn’t him! It was the dumb owner, Jim, who apparently has been reborn as DJ Jimmy Jamz.
There’s something about that guy that makes me uncomfortable. Every interaction I’ve had with him has basically involved him telling me what to do re: buying my own skates. And if there’s one thing I hate besides Alaska, it’s being told what to do! DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO.
I’m going to have shirts made. FUCK.
Anyway, since that guy was DJing, I made Chooch request songs for me and he was happy to accommodate my whims for once. First, Chooch requested Paramore and was excited to skate-tromp back over to me on the rink to tell me, breathlessly, that, “HE’S GOING TO PLAY THE NEW ONE!” And so I got to have a brief 3-minute window of joy, skating to “Ain’t It Fun” (which is a fantastic skate song, you guys, and for a moment I felt like I was back in my prime, wearing my hot pink-wheeled white skates and breezing around Spinning Wheels in one of my many puffy-painted sweatshirts and leggings). But then that song ended and we had to suffer through the second Katy Perry “song” IN THIRTY MINUTES because it was some dumb bitch’s 7th birthday song.
Do you know how many Katy Perry songs, total, we had to endure in the 3-hour session? FOUR. That is fucking outrageous for ONE SKATE SESSION. As my Twitter friend Dave said, “That’s a lot for one year, let alone one skate session.” All of the best people are my Twitter friends.
And then “DJ Jimmy Jamz” played some god awful Christina Perri song that sounded like she was covering Crystal Gale singing at a funeral in 1976. Totally bizarre and I actually sat down because I couldn’t bring myself to continue skating to such a weird ballad.
Mostly, the session was sound-tracked by the usual Top 40 nonsense (NO BLACK EYE PEAS! OH HOW I CHEERED!), and also, inexplicably, a Queen song and Peter Gabriel’s “Solsbury Hill.” I sent Chooch to request another song, but when he came back, he yelled over top of Demi Lovato, “HE SAID ONLY ONE REQUEST PER SESSION!”
But it’s OK for him to play FOUR KATY PERRY SONGS?! WHAT.A.MOTHER.FUCKER.
Roller DJ never would have turned anyone away!
So I told Henry he had to request a song for me.
“Why can’t you do it yourself?” he asked.
“Because I don’t want to talk to that guy. It goes against all of my principles.”
(I know, right? What principles? HAHA.)
Chooch was wearing his Bring Me the Horizon shirt and subsequently caught the eye of two older scene kids. I was really excited about that at first until I saw that one of them was wearing a Black Veil Brides shirt. Henry and I had a mild argument later because he said they were both girls but I swear to you that I saw the one with the undercut coming out of the men’s room. Plus, he looked like a boy.
I didn’t hate too many people there that day, although there was this one soccer mom who reminded me of one of the Catholic School Bitch-Moms. I think she forgot that she’s a mom and not Dorothy Hamill on roller skates, because she was doing these completely embarrassing turns around the rink where she would get down low and protrude her mom-jeaned ass. And then Fall Out Boy’s “Light ‘Em Up” came on and she pumping a fist in the air and singing along and all I could think of was, “You are the reason why I don’t like Fall Out Boy anymore, you stupid bitch.”
But again, she reminded me of one of the Catholic School Bitch-Moms so I MIGHT have been projecting.
She clipped me during 18+ skate and I was so fired up. Of course Henry defended her. “It was probably an accident,” he patronized. Fuck you, Soccer Mom Advocate! WHO’S SIDE ARE YOU ON?!
Aside from a quick beverage break in the snack room, Chooch skated the whole time! Well, also except for the two Ladies Only and 18+ skates. This made me happy. And just so you know, we’re not one of those families that skate with linked arms in some lame Family Values Troika. We pretty much all skate solo, catching up to each other when we have some snide remark to make about someone.
I hate the people that skate in groups, by the way. They make it really hard to pass them without turning it into some violent game of Red Rover on Wheels.
And you know what’s even worse? These fucking plastic walkers-on-wheels that kids who can’t skate use to keep their balance. I mean, that’s all well and good but not when there are approximately 10 of them on the rink at all times. And the rink refs don’t do jack shit there, so even a simple skate around the rink turns into some goddamn Olympic slalom bullshit.
And even worse than that? A kid in a motorized wheelchair. I mean, yay! That’s actually really awesome, seeing a kid getting to enjoy himself on the roller rink (actually, he was pretty expressionless so “enjoying himself” might just be a wild assumption), but all I could think about was how I REALLY did not want to be that motherfucker who crashed into the handicapped kid at the roller rink. I’m a pretty good skater, but let me tell you something: there was one pile-up I saw that day and it was caused by one of the Really Good Skaters. NO ONE IS ABOVE FALLING ON A ROLLER RINK.
There was this cute little ginger kid there. I think his name was Damien. He kept wanting to talk to Chooch and me, which obviously made me suspicious. He caught me right when I was about to take the floor for the 18+ skate and, with his face scrunched up in doubt, asked, “Are you sure you’re 18 or older?” GINGER KID, I LOVE YOU.
Anyway, here’s a video montage of Chooch doing the Limbo, with cameos by some Old Guy who was the grandfather of Damien, I guess, and that dumb Afro’d rink ref who’s too busy showboating to actually do his goddamn job):
Henry was surly because he wasn’t recognized. Also, that dumb motherfucker didn’t request a song for me. I guess it’s right up there with “proposing” and “having fun” on the Things Henry Can’t Do chart. Thanks, old man. I’ll remember that. You dumb motherfucker. (Also, I hated that bitch in the Little House on the Prairie braid.)