Wait, what the hell is that headline? No, not “totally accurate,” “greatly exaggerated.” It’s supposed to be “greatly exaggerated”– Ah, screw it. I’ve returned to the Losanj fold from a long hiatus, but apparently editorial accuracy has not. [Attention, DF: choke on a crap sandwich.—ed.]

 
And what a glorious hiatus it was! Despite the various rumors afoot that I was mysteriously missing, in point of fact I was simply traveling the world, in search of inner peace, gratuitous shouting matches, geographical oddities, cryptozoological phenomena, additional inner peace, the perfect haggis, and finally, some more inner peace.

It was an unqualified success. Matters began in a South American prison, as they typically do with me. Upon celebrating my Papillon-like escape from the carceral scenario with several gallons of purloined pruno, the ensuing coma blacked out the subsequent several weeks, and the next thing I recall I was living in a hut in the Bolivian highlands, married to a village wise woman who was visibly pregnant with my quintuplets.

Since I can tolerate litters of only eight or more children (cf. my still-raging Octomom obsession), I fled this scene for the balmy South Pacific, where I sought succor on the shores of a palmy atoll, with only my thoughts to consume me. As solitude with my thoughts ceased to be interesting in exactly thirteen seconds, I then skedaddled to China, where I created My Little Ponies at a Beijing sweatshop for a few sun-dappled weeks. Then a brief stop-off in Tibet allowed me to verify the existence of the Yeti (sure he exists, but he’s not nearly as abominable as legend would have it).

The next stop was supposed to be a charity bocce match with Guy Ritchie in Doha to celebrate Emir Hamdi II of Qatar’s forty-second birthday, but I bailed. And you know why? I’d been traveling the world looking for inner peace and I’d found bubkis. But while I was pleased to find bubkis (“bubkis” being my nickname for the Yeti, obv.), the peace I’d been seeking had eluded me. For as so many wanderlusting souls have learned, the wendings and the wanderings often go solely to illustrate that what peace ye may seek is not abroad, but right back home where ye started. And by “ye,” I mean “you,” by which I mean “anyone.”

And what lodestar in particular crystallized this admittedly overbaked and cliché insight for me? Why, twas the imminence of the forthcoming LA Derby Dolls Championship Bout betwixt the Sirens and the Swarm this Saturday, December 3. This contest exerted such a gravitational force that it could have pulled me back to LA from the planet that used to be known as Pluto. For the first time since 2008, a team other than the three-time defending champion Tough Cookies will win top honors. The Sirens present a compelling storyline. On the declivity since their back-to-back appearances in Champs back in 07/08, the policeladies rebounded from a dismal 2010 season to recapture their elite form of old. Also compelling are the Swarm, Buffalo Bills-esque in their repeated runner-upitude. Certainly the derby gods would not be so cruel to send them to a third straight Champs bout loss (right, o derby gods?). If you’re a betting sort, keep in mind that the Sirens beat the Swarm in their only head-to-head matchup of 2011. But also if you’re a betting sort, keep additionally in mind that the Swarm roll into Champs on a hottie-McHot three-game winning streak.

Bottom line, this one’s too close to call. So check out this up-psyching video preview, grab your tix here ASAP (because they’re selling out fast as hell), and and be there to see all the rad, bad, never sad, you won’t be had, don’t tell Dad, my college roommate’s name was Brad, derby ain’t just a fad, it’ll make you say “egad” action go down this Sat eve. DF sure will. Hey, I’ve traveled all over this world and hell’s half-acre and there’s noplace else I’d rather be.

Photo/credit: Bout art by Jamela Anderson. Photo by Snap Shock. (C) 2011 by LA Derby Dolls. All rights reserved.