So you remember how last week DF was all like “Oh, hey, you should totally go to the LA Derby Dolls champs bout because it’s going to be awesome?” Oh, you don’t remember? Well, that’s embarrassing. For you, that is.

But I totally did say that, as you can see here, and at the time I wrote it it was true. Then fate, or more accurately, the jefe of a Venezuelan meth cartel, a monocled diamond magnate from Monte Carlo, and Sasquatch intervened. You see, on my various global travels and travails this past year, I made many friends, but also an enemy or two (or three, or frankly more than I can freakin’ count), and while the aforementioned trio hardly has much to say to each other, they can apparently at least agree that DF deserved to be abducted and imprisoned in an abandoned ice-cream hut in outer Manitoba.

My various assembled international enemies were fixing to do me it, you see, but thanks to a combination of own natural slipperiness [You mean the fact that you constantly sweat profusely.--ed.] and the fact that during convalescence from a particularly nasty coccyx bruise I watched every episode of MacGyver, I managed to escape my Canadian carcel of doom and hitch a ride with enough doped-up transcontinental truckers to land back in LA just this past Sunday. This was all really a blast, but when my feet touched Angeleno soil, I realized that my kidnapping had caused me to miss the LADD Champs Bout, originally scheduled (italix = hint) for last Sat, Dec 3.

»continue reading DF’s early Xmas miracle & preview of RESCHEDULED LA Derby Dolls Champs Bout (Sirens v. Swarm, 12/10/11)

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).

»continue reading Rumors of DF’s Death Are Totally Accurate: An LA Derby Dolls Championship Bout Preview (Sirens v. Swarm, 12/3/2011)

In the vanishingly unlikely event that anyone is interested, we at Losanjealous are continuing the global search for missing roller derby reporter and comptroller of the El Monte chapter of “Garfield” enthusiasts, DF. (NB: This is not because we are especially concerned about his well-being but because we’d like him to pay back various inanely-placed gambling debts and also to keep us amused with his tendency to imbibe too much Rumplemints and do a regrettable yet hilarious strip-tease to the Revolting Cocks’ cover of “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?”)

Last confirmed as being in Argentina this July, and since arguably sighted elsewhere throughout the South American continent, DF’s whereabouts remain unclear, though our global private investigator appears to have several leads. Here are excerpts from his latest report:

10/1/11. Tibet. Hirsute, angry gentleman upsets residents of remote Himalayan village by engaging in a loud, several hour long argument with a local yak. The individual was reported to smell worse than the yak, suggesting that it may have been DF. Postscript: all present agreed that the yak got the better of the argument.

10/6/11. Congo. Man alternately described as “frazzled”, “grizzled”, and “frizzled” addresses the Congolese parliament passionately importuning the nation to change its name back to “Rhodesia.” The filibuster failed primarily because Congo was never actually known by that name, which egregious mistake leads us to suspect the speaker may have been DF. NB: the Congolese parliament also rejected the unnamed speaker’s other proposed names for the nation, viz., “McBalls,” “Land of A1 Sauce,” and “Hey, Doods, I Dropped A Contact Lens, Has Anyone Seen It???”

10/11/11. Northern Canada. Shadowy figure visits the relatively new quadripoint where Manitoba, Saskachewan, Northwest Territory, and Nunavut meet. The figure was brandishing an American flag and chanting “U-S-A!!!” whereupon he urinated “American Four Corners Rules! Canada quadpoint drools!” in the freshly fallen snow. The uncanny accuracy of the stranger’s ability to write in the snow with urine suggests that this may have been DF.

What does this mean? Well, very little except that apparently DF is capable of causing socially unproductive havoc in various far-flung parts of the world mere days apart. Hence our suspicion that he may well be on the loose and headed for this weekend’s bang-up LA Derby Dolls bout betwixt the undefeated Sirens (2-0) and the winless-in-2011 Tough Cookies (0-3). A win for the first-place Sirens will put them even farther in the 2011 LADD Championship race, while a loss would scramble the playoff picture like the eggs in your Aunt Tilly’s Denver omelette. And the TCs may be playing only for pride, but one must suspect that the three-time defending LADD champs will not go gentle into that good night and would much savor ending 2011 on the high note of spoiling the Sirens’ perfect season. So wherever the hell DF may be, the important point is that the place to be this Sat eve is la Doll Factory. Tixes are available here but going like the hotcakes in your Aunt Tilly’s … um .. hotcakes, so grab ‘em now and get Eurass out of Eurasia and to el derby this weekend, DF’s whereabouts be damned.

Dear Losanjealous Readers,

We write to inquire if any of you have seen or heard from Losanjealous author, roller derby aficionado, and A1 sauce recovering addict DF of late. He was last spotted just over the Argentina/Bolivia border this July, where Argentine prison officials had deposited him after DF refused to leave jail at the conclusion of his sentence for aggravated public urination (apparently incarceration was luxurious compared to DF’s usual lifestyle). During August, there were reports of a mysterious Americano who rode through the villages of Peru, calling himself “el Tonto,” and taking on all comers in mescal-drinking competitions, who by all accounts may well have been DF (especially given the reports about the mysterious Americano’s impressive belching abilities, and the “¡Revolución!” tattoo that reportedly adorned this wandering stranger’s buttocks).

This inquiry should not be misconstrued as eagerness to have DF back in the Losanj offices. If anything, his absence has led to a marked decrease in general odiferousness, inexplicable swearing outbursts, and drunken antique-pistol-brandishing. But he does owe several of us substantial sums thanks to his repeated, and frankly baffling, willingness to place large bets on the Providence Grays, a major league baseball team that hasn’t existed since the 1880s. And while DF almost certainly lacks the cash to pay his gambling debts, we could at least use this as leverage to get him to clean the bathrooms and do other menial tasks around here.

This weekend offers an especially promising chance to espy DF, for if anything would bring him back to L.A., it would be the chance to see roller derby, and in particular his beloved LA Derby Dolls, who are competing this very Saturday, Oct. 1. Indeed, derby fans like DF, or really anyone else with a pulse would find this weekend’s tilt a compelling spectacle. The bout will feature the Varsity Brawlers against the Fight Crew, and in contrast to previous years, the VBs and the FC both remain very much alive in the hunt for the 2011 LADD championship with records of one win and one loss each. The victor will be catapulted into the thick of the first-place race, the loser will drift toward the cellar. For even more titillation and/or scintillation, check this heartrate-quickening bout preview. Tix are going fast but are still available here, kids, so snap them up now for a chance to watch this crucial late-season throwdown, and also keep your eyes peeled for our long-lost compadre DF.

–LaVerne Casagrande, Losanjealous jefe

Cover art by Sinnerama; (C) 2011 by LA Derby Dolls; all rights reserved.

This week began at Losanjealous headquarters as any other. It was a bright, clear Monday morning. The Sandalwood conference room at the Marriott Residence Inn–Marina del Rey was ready for us to start work. And there, sprawled on the floor after a weekend binge apparently caused by despair occasioned by another second-place finish in a local flatulence contest, lay a passed-out DF.

Finding DF at the Losanj HQ in various states of mortification and/or disrobe at the end of a weekend is standard operating procedure. Except for one detail. In DF’s outstretched, near-comatose hand, we discovered a disk drive with a computer file on it. Could it be that DF had broken from character and actually done some damn work for a change?

Apparently: It seems that DF managed to convince Claire McKeown, charming doyenne of the local goth minimalist psychedelia dyad Dirt Bird to sit down with him for an interview. The result was occasionally incoherent (thanks to DF), occasionally inspired (thanks to Dirt Bird), and obviously incomplete. Here’s the first fragment:

–LaVerne CasaGrande, Losanjealous jefe

DF: Claire of “Dirt Bird,” I’d like to begin this interview by apologizing copiously for the fetor I exude.

Claire McKeown: …

DF: “Fetor” means “odor.”

CM: …

DF: It’s a congenital thing I’ve got, you see. When I was just a fetus, my mother ingested the needles of a deciduous Bosnian conifer, and as you can probably surmise… [seventeen-minute digression redacted--ed.] …anyway, “open sore” is really an understatement, as I think these eight-by-ten glossies I’ve brought amply illustrate–

CM: DF, are you going to ask any questions?

DF: I’m asking the questions here!!!!

CM: Yes.

DF: Yes.

[Painfully awkward silence ensues.]

CM: Perhaps you’d like to know where the name “Dirt Bird” came from.

DF: Is it a reference to flatulence, Claire of “Dirt Bird?”

CM: Ha! No. Dirt Bird comes from when I was about 19 and a dirty filthy little punk rocker. My Mom used to call me dirt bird. I wonder if she knew what it meant in slang and that she was basically calling me a prostitute?

DF: You’re a prostitute? How great! So if I–

CM: I’m not a prostitute.

DF: Can I still pay you for sex?

CM: No.

DF: Would you like to pay me for sex?

»continue reading The DF interview: Dirt Bird, part I

FYI, that’s “Free DF” as in “liberate DF,” not as in “DF costs nothing,” though I suppose both are technically accurate. Anyway, as the title suggests, I write to thee from the bowels of a prison deep below the earth here in Buenos Aires, Argentina. [A prison that somehow magically has a computer and internet access, apparently.—ed.] It turns out that during a sojourn here in Bs As, a city that more than merits its flattering nickname, “the Mexico City of South America,” I inadvertently committed the worst criminal offense imaginable in this particular nation.

So you see, it appears that Argentines are cool with things like bribing officials at the World Cup and disappearing tens of thousands of political oppositionists, but when a fun-loving, yerba-mate-fuelled Americano, such as DF, parades down the broad Avenida 9 de Julio chanting “U-S-A!!! U-S-A!!!” while hoisting a huge photoshopped picture of Eva Peron making out with Diego Maradona, their lax approach to criminal sanctions no longer applies.

Hence I will not be able to make this weekend’s exciting tilt between the Fight Crew and the Tough Cookies, but only due to incarceration. Nor, frankly, is this the first time that incarceration has prevented me from attending an LADD match.

For example, in October 2008, I had to miss LADD Champs when I had one too many virgin mint juleps in New Orleans Square at Disneyland. The last thing I remember was barging in on the Electric Light Parade, then taking a swing at one of those humanoid Goofy simulacra while calling Aladdin an “effete Leninist stooge.” That one landed me in the Anaheim pokey for a good while.

Oh yes, and then in January 2009 up in Bakersfield, I was wrongly arrested when the local authorities refused to credit my argument that urinating publicly outside a bar was an act of constitutionally protected self-expression. The message of this self-expression, I explained to my cellmate at exhaustive length that evening, was that I really needed to take a piss and had been kicked out of the bar. Isn’t that what the First Amendment’s all about?

Finally, back in February 2010, I did a stint at the Wayside Honor Rancho for practicing law without a license. This one was bogus too; I did have a license to practice law, one that I’d written in crayon on a five-by-eight index card that read, “I AM TOTALLY A LAWYER!!!” I explained to the judge that I hadn’t violated the law because it didn’t say you had to practice law with a valid license, but The Man wasn’t having any of it, likely because he was on the take and/or lacked the cranial capacity to understand the subtlety of my argumentation.

All this having been said, nothing short of incarceration could stop DF from going to see and support his most beloved and delicious LA Derby Dolls in action. And while I cannot be there in person thanks to my international imprisonment, I heartily urge you to take advantage of your relative freedom to enjoy what will be the last roller derby before summer hiatus. And it promises to be quite a bout. Both Crew and Cookies find themselves bringing up the rear of the LADD standings, though at a mere 0-1 there’s plenty of room to move on up, Jeffersons-style. The winner will vault into the thick of the Champs race; the loser will have to spend hiatus ruing their status in the basement. Tix are still available here but going fast, so buy ‘em while the buying’s good and get your fool asses to the Doll Factory to soak up the classic thrills chills and spills that only the inimitably rad LADD experience can afford. And don’t cry for DF, y’all. I’ll be done with my South American political-prisoner stint and back in LA before hiatus is up. In the meantime, ¡¡¡¡viva la lucha libre!!!!

Photos by Snap Shock and Mia More. All (C) 2011 by LA Derby Dolls. All rights reserved.

6.13pm. May 7, 2011. Along the 5, just south of the Losanjealous/OC border. DF may be a denizen of Losanjealous, but this does not mean he does not also love its feisty little brother to the south, good old Orange County. Why, OC has the perfect political climate for my radical conservative views; I once made Ayn Rand cry by calling her an “effeminate pinko” at a meeting of the John Birch Society down in Tustin. Way back in the ‘60s, the Laguna Beach “Greeter” beat me in 376 consecutive games of tic-tac-toe. When I get hungry, nothing quells my macho appetite like eating pound after pound of healthful sand straight off the Huntington Beach dunes. And what better way to show of my new, ultra-sexy breast implants and collagen-distended lips than strolling among the quality down at Fashion Island or South Coast Plaza?

But despite the beachy vibe and opulent splendor, something’s always seemed to be missing in OC. Let’s see… It’s not gated communities, or ersatz versions of Swiss Alpine peaks, or Humvees… I know! It’s banked-track roller derby. Indeed, it’s been nigh-on thirty years since derbyists contested a banked bout behind the Orange Curtain, but that’s all going to change, because tonight, for the first time in however many decades “thirty” comprises, the OC Rollergirls are bringing the banked track back, live and in full-contact, no-holds-barred style.

6.37pm. Anaheim, CA. Well, there is only one first time for getting to view a new derby venue, and DF’s eyes are devirginized upon walking into the Anaheim Convention Center Arena (ACCA), for there beckons the promised banked track in all its glory. When I first entered the Doll Factory, I wept. Tonight, upon first entering the ACCA and regarding the track in all its bankedness, I wept—in my pants. Damned incontinence. Should have worn those adult Depends undergarments (excuse: the local Rite-Aid was out of Depends in size XXXXXXXXXL).

6.56pm. Ahem. Some time later, DF re-enters the arena wearing one of his new pairs of pants (NB: I always include many backups). After this unfortunate delay, first jam’s nearly at hand, so let’s set the scene. The OC Rollergirls have subdivided themselves into two squads for their big banked-track debut: the Orange Whips (which reminds DF of unfathomably delicious Orange Julius—whatever happened to those?), and the Traffic Jammers (which reminds DF of unfathomably tedious traffic, obv.). Each side features a familiar face from the LA Derby Dolls—the Whips have former Tough Cookie Krissy Krash on their side, while the Jammers are anchored by former Siren PITA. Enough stage-settery. Let’s do this!

»continue reading The OCRG: Traffic Jammers v. Orange Whips @ Anaheim Convention Ctr Arena, 5/7/2011

DF is known for many things. Winning “Most Pungent” seven years running. That famous picture of me flipping off a unicorn while a Tyrannosaurus Rex elbows me in the crotch. Finishing my Nobel Prize acceptance speech despite barfing three times. But DF is emphatically NOT known for his calm, judicious sense of self-control. Au the contraire, he has been known to engage in … shall we say … untoward episodes of uncontrolled indulgence. To wit:

August, 1968: an innocent, straight-laced adolescent DF agrees to take a single puff of a marijuana cigarette proffered by a hirsute amigo. Next thing I recall is waking up three years and several hundred acid trips later, face-down in the middle of Golden Gate Park, long hippie hair corralled by a beaded headband, bearing Jerry Garcia’s love child.

September, 1979: a few months into my new, responsible job and life as a pencil-sharpener salesman, a colleague offers me a beer at a calm post-work happy hour on a Wednesday night. I chug the beer, then with the seal broken, chug seventeen additional beers, then chug countless shots of Rumplemints, and finally awake from the ensuing blackout period several days later in an Ensenada gutter, wearing only mascara and a “Huggies” diaper that really left nothing to the imagination. The really weird part is that upon getting back to work, my colleague told me that the beer he’d given me was non-alcoholic.

May, 1985: Sizzler comes out with their “All you can eat salad bar” campaign. DF, against the advice of his lawyer, parole officer, and psychologist, visits a San Dimas Sizzler during this promotion, and after eating all the food in the salad bar, proceeds to the kitchen, where he ingests several dozen frozen skirt steaks and drinks a tureen of ranch dressing before an elderly gentleman brings an end to the madness by whacking DF on the head repeatedly with his prosthesis. And you know what? I woke up from the ensuing coma still hungry as hell.

So yeah, DF and self-restraint don’t really belong in the same sentence. But after my misspent youth (and early adulthood, and most of middle age), I’ve learned a lesson: stay away from temptation! And that’s why I’m shit-scared right now, because temptation has come and found me with not one, not two, but THREE awesome-balls banked-track derby events this weekend in the greater SoCal area.

Believe it, rollerfans! This Saturday night, May 7, will witness the earth-shattering debut of the banked-track incarnation of the OC Roller Girls on their brand-new track, as the Orange Whip square off with the Traffic Jammers down at the Anaheim Convention Center Arena. And if you’re averse to traveling below the Orange Curtain that night, you’re still in luck, because the LA Derby Dolls will be in action at Hi-Fi’s Doll Factory on Sat eve as well, when the Varsity Brawlers, fresh off their big upset of the three-time-defending-champ Tough Cookies, will take on that perennial threat from way down south, the San Diego Derby Dolls’ banked track specialists, the Swarm.

And whichever banked track action you opt for on Saturday, you’ll still be able to engorge yourself with more derby the very next day, as an adorably named but undeniably fierce Babydoll Brawl will go down at the Doll Fac on Sunday, May 8. And yes, that’s Mom’s day, but what better way to celebrate the nice lady whose vagina expelled you to see some of the finest up-and-coming skaters LADD has to offer? Take note: the BDB is an all-ages event, so feel free to bring the kiddies. And due to the family atmo, there will be no booze served, which is really for the best for DF given aforementioned proclivities.

Lord knows this troika of derby fantasticness may well be the death of DF and his poor overstressed sense of self-control, but hey—if you gotta die, death by derby is a pretty sweet way to go. Get your tixes for OCRG here and LADD here, and DF’ll see you at the track, young’uns.

April, as the man sez, is the cruelest month, because it looks nice out but it’s really ball-shrivelingly cold, and there are all kinds of snails and whatnot underfoot, which is kind of gross. You know who said that? Shakespeare, emm-effers! DF knows that because he is smart, and also because he is well-read. And do you know what Shakespeare’s favorite sport was? Why, it was roller derby, of course! Don’t believe? Watch, I’ll prove it.

By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. –Macbeth. Well, here the Bard was clearly trying to do a little preview of his own, referring to this weekend’s bout ‘twixt the Sirens and Fight Crew as something wicked awesome that is coming this very Saturday. As for the thumb-prick part, this clearly suggests Shakespeare was into some weird sexual shit, but hey—let’s not judge the guy, and we all know that writers are kinda freaky on that front.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair. –Macbeth. Ah yes, here Bill S. was clearly taking a shot at the refs, suggesting that their judgments are inconsistent. Apparently Shakespeare is a Tough Cookies fan, and is still smarting over their upset loss against the Varsity Brawlers a couple weekends ago. But that’s no reason to be a whiner, Shakie—the Brawlers won that one fair and square!

Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!/ For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night. –Romeo & Juliet. Shakespeare was a horny old bastard, which explains why he always wore a codpiece. Here, he’s referring to some impossible fan crush he has on a derby girl. Who is it? I’ll never tell—because I honestly have no idea.

So as these three examples clearly illustrate, all literary critics to date saying that Shakespeare wrote about love, or revenge, or tragic flaws were all 100% wrong. Shakespeare wrote about one and only one thing, the greatest theme of all—roller derby! And I have only one beef with the Bard on this score. What the hell is so cruel about April, you high-frilled-collar wearing freak? April is awesome, because there are not one but two eminently radical bouts for your viewing pleasure. Two weekends ago, the upstart Brawlers upset the three-time defending champion Tough Cookies, and this Saturday, April 16, two of LADD’s OG sides, the Sirens and the Fight Crew, will wage war on ye olde banked track. After the last bout, the standings are all in a jumble, so this bout will determine early season supremacy. Tixes are still available here y’all, and as Bill Shakespeare himself might say, “Buy thy tickets now, and hie ye hence to the Doll Factory, to quaff deep of the derby, which is the very stuff of life itself.”

Image by Sinnerama based on a photo by Joe Rollerfan. (C) 2011 by LA Derby Dolls. All rights reserved. Email df at losanjealous dot com with commentary and recommendations for foods that won’t give him diarrhea (and good goddamned luck with that). Then follow DF on Twitter to see if your recommendations worked! (Hint: they will not have worked.)

APRIL MOTHER-SHITTING FOOOOOOOL’S, FOOLS! HA! Did I surprise you? No? Well, I surprised myself with all the yelling, so much so, apparently, that I lost all bladder control. Although, to be fair, continence has never been DF’s strong suit. But you know what is DF’s strong suit? I mean, besides soiling myself. Yes, you guessed it—playing awesome jokes on people to celebrate April Fool’s Day! Why, here are some of my fave-rave examples.

When I was just a wee lad, I surprised my enfeebled, elderly next-door neighbor Old Jim by jumping out of a shrubbery on April Fool’s morn and yelling “Boo” as he got his morning paper. Then Old Jim gave as good as he got, falling over and pretending to die of a heart attack. He was so committed to the joke that he even held a fake funeral and burial for himself the next week, with all his family there weeping and crying! Now that I think of it, I never really saw Old Jim after that. Oh, he was a card.

And what better time for spring pranks than the halcyon college days? I am a proud graduate of Fontana University, and in my freshman year, I established myself as a prankster extraordinaire even before April Fool’s Day rolled around when I greased up all the footballs used by the ol’ FU pigskin squad before our big rivalry game with Riverside State. Our QB didn’t complete a pass the entire time, and we lost 65-0! The football team really loved my joke, so much that I had a wedgie for more or less all of my first year. And sophomore, and junior, and senior years too, come to think of it.

And back when I worked for American Pencil Sharpener Co. for all those years, we really cut up when April Fool’s rolled around. Why, one time my co-workers arranged for a policeman to show up at work and tell me that my home had burned down and all my loved ones were dead. Turns out–they weren’t! It was all a big gag! Oh, I laughed til I cried! Or at least, I recall crying a lot. Then I pranked those zany co-workers right back by slashing the tires of their cars in the employee parking lot. The joke was that they had to get their cars towed … and then buy new tires! One of them said to me after it all went down, “I’m seriously going to kill you, DF. This is not a joke.” How I guffawed and guffawed at his light-hearted japery; truly, my stomach was sore from laughing! What a merrie time we all had.

So as you can tell, April Fool’s Day is one of DF’s most beloved, coveted days of the year, even more cherished than Arbor Day, or possibly even the day McDonald’s annually re-releases the McRib. But there is one thing happening during this season of foolishness that is dead-ass serious: it’s an old-skool throwdown between the Tough Cookies and the Varsity Brawlers this Saturday, April 2 at the Doll Factory. By now, any bout involving the Cookies is essentially a grudge match—hell, as the three-time defending champs, they’re like the Yankees of LA roller derby, except without the tight pinstriped knickers. And DF is staunchly non-partisan, but in his opinion, the Varsity Brawlers have enough fight in them that they just might make the Cookies crumble. Don’t believe me? Check out this adorable, yet hilarious video as proof:

That one really made me laugh my ass off. Seriously: I am now assless. Anyone know where I can get an ass replacement? But even more seriously, this weekend’s Brawlers/Cookies tilt is going to go off hard-core, and I am not engaging in foolishness, April or otherwise, when I say that it’s going to be epic. So get your tixes here, and be there at the Doll Fac this Saturday, mo-fos–no joke!

Corrections, emendations, et cetera may be directed to DF at Losanjealous dot com. DF sometimes remembers that he has a Twitter account. But only sometimes.

Poster art by Pushy Whipped; (C) 2011 by LA Derby Dolls. All rights reserved.

Wisdom: DF has it. And this wisdom, buoys and gulls, derives from gleaning lessons from whatever eventualities life puts in my path. For example, when held hostage for 73 hours by crazed fish-rights activists at a Barstow Long John Silver’s, I learned to use the deep-fry basin as a makeshift toilet for me and my fellow detainees. And when surrounded by angry bison after wandering off from the group during a lonelyhearts’ club hike in the wilds of Catalina, I learned that crooning “Don’t Fence Me In” will soothe even the angriest buffalo (though it seemed to enrage the initially calmer buffalo, so the net effect was not necessarily positive).

Don’t believe me? Here, I’ll prove it! Why, just this past weekend, DF was able to glean five compelling life lessons from the thumpin’, bumpin’, no-chumpin’ Girl Talk show at Pomona’s Fox Theater this past Sat eve. Witness:

1. Nostalgia is a hideous bitch-goddess. On the way to aforementioned show, DF drove down Garey Ave., the selfsame boulevard he traversed many times in his now-kinda-distant youth, and drove past the Stater Bros. market where he played Pac-Man as a youthful lad. Upon arriving early for the show and wandering the Pomona antique district, DF saw for sale in aforementioned antiques area—wait for it—a virtually identical Pac-Man machine. Fuck you, Father Time.

2. DF is an outstanding dancer. You likely assumed this, but the GT grooves really bring out DF’s best moves. My rhythmic gyrations were so crowd-pleasing at the Fox Theater this past Sat eve that people moved away from me to give me space to work it, and gawked and pointed at me in admiration. Many people were so impressed that they were moved to what I can only assume was the laughter of admiration, and one onlooker was so entranced by my dancing that upon seeing it, he barfed out of sheer reverence. Best mashup moment for DF’s signature move, the slo-mo pelvic thrust? “Party in the USA” v. “Ante Up.”

3. Girl Talk is thoughtful. DF’s GI system is notoriously irascible, and while music may soothe the savage beast, it only inflames DF’s poor tum (as do other activities such as breathing, holding my breath, moving, and stasis). Hence my joy when later in the GT set, toilet paper literally fell from the rafters into my outstretched hands. Why can’t toilet paper magically appear at all entertainment events? Or at any and every other event that DF attends? I ended up leaving with like seven pounds of the stuff, and that will last me like two days! For the record, other things also dropped from the ceiling, viz., balloons full of confetti, and while these were most amusing they were not nearly as utile as the aforementioned TP.

4. DF is not always the sweatiest guy in the room. DF breaks a sweat when yawning, or even just sitting quietly in a cool room. And I’m not ashamed. Just the contrary: This was a distinction I always used to be quite proud of. But I was humbled to find at the end of the show that I was mesmerized not only by GT’s capacity to discover commonalities in work from vastly different genres, but also by the breathtaking quantity of perspiration generated by this remixifying Pittsburgher. DF is chastened, but duly humbled, by being so conspicuously out-sweated.

5. Girl Talk is a DJ. There are T-shirts sold outside the Fox Theater that insist otherwise, and this is meaningful, since T-shirt slogans are almost always right. DF gets the point—if DJs are regarded as simply players of others’ music, then what GT does is entirely different, since it’s new music created from nonobvious bits and pieces of preexisting work. But the former definition of “DJ” understates what this genre often entails. Consider, e.g., DJ Shadow or Cut Chemist, who are emblematic of a type of DJ-ing that disaggregates popular songs and sounds and re-arranges them into original tracks. The point is not that “DJs never create new musical works, but Girl Talk does, therefore Girl Talk is not a DJ,” but rather “DJs include those who simply create danceable sets of popular songs as well as artists who have been remixing since before the word ‘remixing’ entered the cultural lexicon, and Girl Talk belongs in the latter half of the DJ tradition.”

Ahem. These, then, are the lessons DF derived from his Sat eve sojourn to Pomona to experience the astonishingly energetic, deliciously copyright-indifferent DJ-who-doesn’t-like-being-called-a-DJ Girl Talk. On the way home, DF paid a reverent visit to the Stater Bros. where he once dominated at Pac-Man in his juvenile daze; failed to pay a visit to Raging Waters (It’s closed at night! Who knew?); and headed west toward Losanjealous along the majestic artery of the 10 freeway, ears ringing and trunk full of free toilet paper.

Photo credit: © 2011 by DF and his BlackBerry. Sure, go ahead and use it. I don’t give a rat’s ass.

June 12, 1972

A young, optimistic DF arrives, bright-eyed and hopeful, for his first visit to New York City. But immediately after alighting at Port Authority, he inadvertently jaywalks across Fifth Avenue and is retaliatorily kneed in the crotch by an outraged Bella Abzug. Hoping to dull the pain with a local delicacy, he purchases pepperoni pizza from a street vendor, only to have aforementioned piping-hot pizza permanently scorch off 78% of his taste buds. DF then seeks respite and/or succor on a peaceful bench in Central Park, but is set upon by a gang of rogue pigeons, who mug him and torment him with ceaseless coo-ing. These attempts to panhandle for bus fare the hell out of NYC cause DF to get arrested (and, astonishingly, re-kneed in the crotch by Bella Abzug), and eventually land him in Rikers Island for a solid three weeks.

Yeah, it didn’t go well. Since his ill-fated journey, a broken and morose DF has stayed far away from the NYC, but has long hoped to get revenge on his nemesis city. And tonight, the LA Derby Dolls have taken it upon themselves to avenge DF’s ill-treatment by the Big Apple by taking on New York’s Gotham Girls in a DF-inspired grudge match–

[DF, remember our discussion about utterly making shit up? And our little chat about libel? —ed.] Oh, all right, here’s the real story: the LA Derby Dolls have, in fact, thrown down the gauntlet vis-à-vis New York’s Gotham Girls in a cross-country battle royale, ’tis true. But the connection with DF’s dismal history with NY is a mere coincidence. Rather, ’twill be a contest for derby supremacy on many levels: East Coast v. West Coast. Flat track v. banked track. Biggie v. Tupac. Son of Sam v. Night Stalker. Jay-Z v. Katy Perry. Gritty realism v. sunny optimism. False dichotomies versus … ah, shit, let’s just check the bout.
»continue reading East Coast/West Coast Throwdown: LA Ri-ettes v. Gotham Girls All-stars @ the Doll Factory, 2/26/2011

In these cynical times, it has become a dismal commonplace to derogate Valentine’s Day as a Hallmark-created holiday in which folks are forced to display artificial affection to no-longer-loved ones. Well, DF for one, LOVES V.D., and has always celebrated it with near-frenetic fervor. Witnesseth:

DF’s earliest relevant memory was a compulsory grade-school v-day card exchange. Oh, it was exciting! So much so that I lost all bladder control, wetting myself copiously and getting sent home from school. My grammar-school chums still call me “Cap’n Pee.” Actually, so do my parents.

A decade or so on, teenaged DF used Val Day as an occasion to reveal his amorousness to a secret high-school crush, and went for the gusto, showing up at the lucky lady’s door dressed in a sexy leather codpiece, with a dozen spiny roses ‘twixt my teeth, and slathered in oodles of body chocolate. As it happens, I did not win the fair maiden’s heart, but on the plus side, her football-coach father hugged my neck with his big strong hands for almost a half-hour!

A few years later, DF won 2d prize (and $10!) in a Valentine’s Day poetry contest with the immortal quatrain, “Roses are red/And boy are they thorny,/Please be my V-Day date,/’Cause man, am I … hopelessly enamored of your wit and charm!”

More recently, DF hit the singles scene, and strutted on over to the sexiest party in town—the Valentine’s Day Lonelyhearts Extravaganza Deluxe at the El Monte CourtYard Marriott (cost of admission a mere $45, including a free champagne toast!). Admittedly, the male/female ratio was undefined (because you can’t divide by zero), but toward the end of the evening a really hot game of strip Dungeons-and-Dragons broke out, and DF totally got to roll his twenty-sided die (if you know what I’m sayin’).

So, actually, in retrospect it looks like St. Val’s hasn’t exactly been a lovin’ bonanza for DF. But this year I’ve found a can’t-miss option for a V-day good time: hot, full-contact, all-girl roller derby action with the LA Derby Dolls! ‘Cause whether you’re single and lonely, or attached and bored out of your skull, all right-minded people share one love–the love of roller derby. So get fool asses down to the Doll Factory this weekend to see the LADD regular season kick off as the discipline-lovin’ policeladies of the Sirens seek to lay down the law on the two-time Champs runners-up out of San Diego, the Swarm. Oh it’s gonna be good, as this romantic bout preview amply illustrates. So get yer tix ASAP, and come out for V.D. at the DF (Doll Factory) with LADD and DF (the derby writer, that is, not the Doll Factory). All right, that was confusing. Just come to the damn bout because it will be awesome. That is all.

Photo/credit: Art by Fifi Nomenon, based on photo by Charlie Chu. (C) 2011 by LA Derby Dolls. All rights reserved. Please send comments/corrections/invective to DF at DF at losanjealous dot com. & follow @theDF on Twitter if you are interested in learning more about his gastrointestinal tribulations and scary conspiracy theories.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, bitches! What, you think I’m talking about the onset of Christmas (and the current pendency of the fun Jewish holiday, “Chanookahah”)? Horseshit! The aforementioned seasonal wonderfulness is 100% due to the LA Derby Dolls Championship Bout, the rock-em, sock-em event in which we learn at long last which LADD squad will reign supreme as the queens of the 2010 roller derby scene.

Oh, and yeah, I suppose there’s Xmas as well, and I know you know this because Losanjealous readers far and wide have been peppering the site with emails seeking to figure out just what gift would be most apt to lavish DF come this Dec 25. [In fact, the only DF-related gift inquiries we received was a reader seeking to send him a steaming pile of yak feces.—Ed.]

But enough of that. DF has been looking forward to this eve’s Champs Bout ever since the fateful Oct night when ‘twas confirmed that the Swarm and Tough Cookies would once again square off for all the marbles (as they did in 2009, when the Cookies prevailed to earn their second consecutive LADD Championship). The anticipatory tension has been unbearable, so much so that the cobra-related shrieking night terrors that recently caused the other residents at the Downtown YMCA to lodge a formal noise complaint about me.

But like a child on Christmas morn, all the waiting was worth it, and now my sweet sweet reward is nigh. So many questions are about to be resolved! Will the Tough Cookies three-peat as LADD Champs? Will the Swarm get revenge for their defeat to the TCs in last year’s finale? JESUS CHRIST, HOW THE EFF WOULD I KNOW? DO I LOOK LIKE I CAN READ THE MOTHER-SHITTING FUTURE? Yikes, the old URRD (Unjustified Rage-Related Disorder) is really acting up. More aptly, let’s watch and see, and while the bout unfolds, DF will drop all-y’all a little hint or two about some stocking stuffers he might like to see.

»continue reading Slay Belles Reign: LA Derby Dolls Championship Bout @ the Doll Factory (12/4/2010)

47 BC: Julius Caesar conquers Pharnaces II of Pontius at Zela, and famously observes, “Veni vidi vici,” which roughly translates to “I may have a douchebag haircut but I still kicked your asses, Turks.”

Ca. 1600 AD: the Renaissance happens. DF opines that the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is pretty good but would have been better if God, as well as Adam, had been depicted butt-naked.

1783 AD: Cornwall surrenders, confirming Colonial victory in the Revolutionary War. Victorious Americans gloat, “What fools the English were to think they could defeat a guerrilla force in a hostile foreign country. We’ll never make that kind of military mistake!”

1987 AD: Reagan admonishes Gorbachev to “tear down this wall” while speaking to assembled masses at the Brandenburg Gate. Gorby then zings Reagan with the immortal rejoinder, “С сегодняшнего дня у посетителей нашего сайта появляется замечательная возможность поучаствовать в определении идеального состава «горняков» в летне-осенней части уходящего года!!!”

Yet all of these momentous events pale in comparison to what will, without a doubt, be the most earth-shatteringly significant event in the history of our world: the LA Derby Dolls 2010 Championship Bout between the Tough Cookies and the Swarm this Saturday, December 4. Oh, what’s that? You think I’m exaggerating? HOW DARE YOU FUCKIN’ SAY THAT!?!?!?

Ahem. Rather: Any objective observer would have to agree with DF’s assessment of the momentousness of the forthcoming LADD bout, for several reasons. It will cap a season that has seen much high-level, higher-drama competition, but has left just two teams with equally meritorious 3-1 records. The Tough Cookies went undefeated in the first half of 2010, but the Swarm grabbed late-season momentum with a heart-stopping win over the Cookies this past October. This set up a rematch of the 2009 Championship Bout, in which the Cookies beat the Swarm to grab a second consecutive LADD title.

The stage is set for an epic tussle (pulse-enhancing video preview of bout available here, btw). Will the Tough Cookies continue their dominance with a heretofore unheard-of three-peat? Will the Swarm get revenge for their Championship Bout defeat a year ago? Will DNA tests confirm or deny the swirling rumors that DF is the real father of Padma Lakshmi’s love child? [No sane person has ever even remotely thought this was true.—Ed.] Aaaaaah!! These questions are hard!! Stop asking me and just go to the damned bout already, will ya? And hurry your ass up. Tixes are available here, but the inside dope has it that they’ve already sold out VIP and that there are relatively few general admission spaces available. Come join DF, LADD, and all manner of merrie riff-raff as we make history this Sat eve. Until then, later skaters.

Image/credit: Jammin’ jammer STEFCON 1 skates for the two-time defending champeen Tough Cookies. Poster design by Tony Biner, photo by ShutterThug. All works of authorship (C) 2010 by LA Derby Dolls. All rights reserved.