An Interlude at Racine's

So i was at this restaurant on Sunday with my roller derby leauge for our monthly meeting. My leauge is made up of a myriad of ladies, varying from age 21 to 36. So when the bus boy came around filling our water glasses, a sudden gasp from all members echoed around the table. This was no bus boy. This was an Adonis. He couldn't have been more than 20 years old, if not a little younger. An age of sexual peak. A body to die for, including veins popping out on top of his forearm muscles. Tattoos popping out just above his elbow, where his rolled up sleeves rested. Whew. This man was beautiful, and he knew it. He also knew that the entire table of roller girls thought he was a hottie as well.

So of course there was immediate chatter betwix the women about how we could gain the attention of this sexual fantasy. I don't know how, but i somehow assumed the name of "Mrs. Robinson", and it was left up to me to propell myself (and in doing so, the whole team) into this man's awareness.
"Throw a Pickle!" said GiGi the Assasin.
"No! Here's a creamer! You should drop it!" said Ivana Killeau.
"Here! Use my coffee cup, and ask for more!" said Rolanda Yu.

As the women of my derby team whispered "audible" frantic suggestions, all I could do was stare at this man. The dark hair and brown eyes seemed to hold my gaze, it somehow transfixed me.....until I realized I was staring. I then realized that he realized i was staring. I turned my face downwards and put my nose toward my minutes i was recording for the meeting. Sighs of disappointment escaped through mouths that were closest to me.

Time went by, glances were stolen. I could not concentrate! I knew there was no way i was ever going to see this man again, but for that very same reason, i could not look away! It was starting to make me frustrated! So finally, i resolved not to look at him, no matter how close he came to our table.

Well, I've never been much for resolutions, so when i had finished my dinner, i was looking at a leauge member who was talking, trying to write down what she said as fast as i could in my notebook. I suddenly heard a deep, soft voice over my right shoulder.
"Would you like a box, miss?"
I turned around and found myself gazing into his face. As i whipped my head back around, afraid he would see me blushing, i said the only thing i could think of:
"Uh, yes please."

I AM RETARDED!!!! I can't even look an 18 year old in the face!!! My shoulders slumped as soon as he was gone, as i stared at a blank piece of white paper.
"Cassie, could you repeat what La Vicious just said?"
I looked up, and every girl's face was aimed at my confusion.
"Uhhh....I missed it." the girls looked at me like i was crazy. Some secretary i was....but i had to redeem myself!
"I couldn't help it!" i protested, "He was talking to me!"
The whole table grew excited. "what did he say to you!!" 17 girls exclaimed at once. "tell us! Tell US!!!"
"He.....He....", I faltered, "He...asked me if i wanted a box for my food!"

That did not redeem me. What did redeem my stupidity was that when he brought my box of food back to me (which may i note that he did NOT wrap anyone else's food up for them - they just got handed boxes) he placed the box infront of me, putting it down over my right shoulder. But this time, his left hand, ever so slightly, touched the back of my left shoulder. I got butterflies immediately!!! I squirmed in my seat after he left, and the women surrounding me made noises and comments of excitement and jealousy (or so I perceived).

We ended up leaving about a half hour later, upon which i only saw him a few times after that. i felt like leaving a note, "forgetting" something so i would have to go back to the table as he was bussing it, SOMETHING!!! But i did none of those things. I simply said, "Have a good night," and looked into his eyes. He was so bold to stare right back at me and say, "You do the same, miss", while following me with his eyes right out the door. My teammates were talking to me, over me, around me, about how i should've gotten his number, said more to him, made myself more availiable, but i didn't hear them.

I left with the memory that this young, hot, sexual Adonis (who was well out of my league) had been flirting with me. ME! Mrs. Robinson. It is a good memory to have, and an awesome story to tell!

Wi-HOO!!!!
I RULE!!!!!!!!!!

the cassie supremacy

Can this be real? I mean, who would want to be a bar code for the medical industry! YIKES!!

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2004/10/13/national0948EDT0497.DTL

I don't know about other people, but i just don't like the idea of letting the government rule my destiny, by implanting capsules in my body, that they are sure to fuck up.

roller mania

So my roller derby team got our pictures taken for the November issue of 5280. i didn't even know anyone read that magazine. Plus i really don't think the the people that do read that magazine, would be interrested in roller derby. All that magazine ever has is articles about restaurants, and where to hang out in LODO.

Well, here is the link to the Westword article back in August. I will link the 5280 article when it comes out, if i can.

http://www.westword.com/issues/2004-08-26/citylimits.html

i think Mistress Mayhem is permanent.

http://www.rmrollergirls.com

my mom is awesome

The truth comes out! Part Deux of the "historical novel":

Well, I am all through the book. The main character "Jacob" who was really James Marinovich has me woven throughout the book. Two parts are kind of...well kind of... well here is the part right after the first section I wrote...

But her hair, her long frizzy hair did indeed excite Jacob. Year's later, leafing through a coffee table book, Magritte, he would be reminded of the first time he saw Mary's hair. he would feel a nostalgic ache while gazing upon pubic hair curling around a face that had breast for eyes and vagina for mouth.

OK, you know me, that kind of freaked me out!!!

I told her i didn't really know what to think if someone compared my hairdo to pubic hair!!

my mom is cool

so, my mom sent me this email.

Do you remember when I told you one of my old hippie friends wrote a song about me called "Mary in the Morning." Well now I have been imortalized in a novel. Another old hippie friend wrote a "historical novel" called "The Psychedelic Symphony," by James Marinovich. On page 3 I am introduced:

Where did she come from?
She had long curly light brown hair that fell in bristles rather than waves.
A cascade of hair that, in its radical frizziness might have well have jolted the vanity of a young woman from some earlier era. But in the summer of 1968, with Janis Joplin a figurehead of the earthy chic, she appeared eminently fashionable.
In any event, she had never been vain - the self confidence she exuded was not self-absorption; she simply liked life and she liked herself, and it showed, that's all.

My mom is so cool. She didn't send me the part where he mentions her name, although she says he didn't change it to hide her identity. This leads me to believe that maybe there's some secret stuff she doesn't want me to know about...historical novel my butt!!!
And when the hell did someone write a song about you? Who are you? I want my mom back! Not some hippie goddess that boys were falling over! GROSS!!!!
(she's still pretty cool, even if it forces me to realize that my mom was alive before she met my dad!)

virgin blog

This is my first post. i have nothing interresting to say due to the fact that i am at work, and sneaking onto the internet. I just want to see what this looks like, and i realize that no one will probably ever read this! Wi-Hooo!