hair loss, Intercourse, roller derbies, farms

The crazy-ass dervish continues. What’s weird is that aside from my propensity for walking and driving fast, and aside from the fact that I love skydiving and love riding on roller coasters and speed boats, I really tend to be a lethargic slug who prefers shambling leisurely through life. And all this nonsense involved with being constantly on the go, because of preparing to move and needing to buy crap for the condo and shop around for painters and people who can install my wood laminate floors? Oh, this won’t do at all!

I’ve been slammed with a boatload of freelancing lately, too; l haven’t even had time to watch my latest crop of Netflix DVDs. I can’t wait until the effects of the Hollywood writers strike are finally felt, because lord knows I can’t quit the TV on my own—I need it to quit me. And as soon as my shows go off the air because of the strike, I can finally turn my attention to all the other pressing matters buzzing angrily around my head.

Anyway. Last weekend I played hooky from my life and headed home to Pennsylvania. On Saturday my first order of business was getting all my hair chopped off.

before

after

I’ll be sending a 10-inch braid to Locks of Love soon…whenever I can get my overwhelmed ass to the post office. So yes, I’ve been driving around for a week with a swathe of human hair and three gigantic pumpkins on my back seat (that’ll be explained later). Some coworkers and I were cackling about how hot it would be if I crashed my car and the rescuers found a long braid of human hair and huge smashed pumpkins among the wreckage.

In the afternoon Melissa and I went to Intercourse to shop for Amish furniture for my new pad. On the way there, we stopped for lunch at a Mennonite restaurant on the outskirts of town. As we gobbled down our grease-laden food over prayer-filled placemats, we talked about her desire to become prison penpals with Amanda Knox. We also talked about some funny (and by “funny” I mean “warped”) things that I won’t even repeat here. Suffice it to say, there’s no doubt that we’re headed to hell.

In Intercourse I bought three jars of pepper jam and managed to snag three Amish tables for only $180! God, I fucking love the Amish sometimes.

In the evening we rustled up a gaggle o’ lesbians and gays and hit a roller derby in Lancaster. Yes, you heard it right: we actually went to a roller derby.


Apparently roller derby is making a comeback, and Lancaster’s now got its own league. We went to the final championship bout of the season, in which the Hex Offenders and the Distel Finks battled for victory (every team in the league has a PA Dutch-inspired name; those two teams’ names denote Amish hex signs and distelfinks). It wasn’t as theatrical as I expected, but it was still awesome beyond words, even with the high-ish entrance price ($12). However, we had no clue what was going on. The game made absolutely no sense to any of us. All I know is, never go to a roller derby with a bunch of lesbians when you’re the only person with a camera. All night long it was “Photograph her ass!” and “Make sure you get a shot of her tits!”

This past Wednesday the fine folks at Larriland Farm allowed some coworkers and me to spend a damp November morning hoisting pumpkins, picking apples, and pulling beets for charity. These were all crops that weren’t sold during the summer and fall harvest and otherwise would’ve gone to waste. We donated everything to Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary, a refuge for farm animals.


We left with a station wagon and truck full of goodies, with three more gigantic pumpkins stored on my backseat. As an added bonus, the farm had some cute dogs who kept us company while we picked apples.


This upcoming weekend will be spent doing hardcore condo supplies shopping and a shitload of freelancing. Thankfully next week is a short week (my office is closed Thursday and Friday for Thanksgiving). I’ll be going to my mom’s house in Harrisburg, PA, for Thanksgiving dinner, which will hopefully involve eating mountains of vegetarian ham (if the damn vegan meat store where I buy it actually bothers to stay open one evening; every night I’ve gone there over the past week, they’ve been closed when they were supposed to be open), PA Dutch potato filling, sweet potatoes, corn, dinner rolls, and opera fudge!


song heard most recently before posting:
Cherry Bomb—John Mellencamp