Sunday, February 28, 2010

RC's Rink Rants Volume 2

Being around people, especially LARGE groups of people whom I don't know, is just absolutely draining to me.

The local ice rink was packed the last few days. Good for the rink's bottom line, not good for me.

It's impossible to really practice anything when it's crowded. I need to work on three-turns and skating backwards. I simply cannot do that when I have to watch out for masses of humanity, especially when a good portion of them are kids that don't bother looking where they're going and what's coming from that direction.

Plus, when it's busy, the ice degrades VERY quickly. What was a smooth sheet you could zip around starts to feel like a macadam road on a bad suspension. Except directly on your knees and back. And pushing off becomes much harder and you can't glide as easily.

So the workout becomes less fun, I can't do the things I need to practice, and I'm surrounded by a mix of douchebags and fuckwits. For example:
  • Shitass skaters who try to do the "YMCA" or the "Thriller" on the ice when they can't skate 20 feet without grabbing for the wall. Especially when they're fucking fatasses who think they're funny. The songs are bad enough, don't make my life any worse.
  • An attractive MILF with a walleyed greybeard who probably has to mainline Cialis to give her body even thirty seconds of the sex it deserves. (By the way, old dude, Keith Hernandez and Clyde Frazier would like a word. "RE-JECTED." And man up and put on hockey skates.)
  • An ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS MILF with an idiot wearing a flat cap. Dickhead, Brian Johnson can wear one. Payne Stewart could wear one. You aren't a Geordie heavy metal singer nor a dead professional golfer. I have NO idea how you landed someone so far out of your league. Especially someone who can skate circles around you.
  • A librarian-ish young hottie with a tall doof that could have passed for Qui-Gon Jinn if he Qui-Gon were 20 and had grown up with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.
  • An unattractive wannabe cougar with badly bleached hair, a tramp stamp (At your age? Seriously?), and a University of Pink track suit. A University of Pink track suit that had NO PINK ON IT. It was green and dingy tan.
  • As usual, more people taking pictures right in the flow of traffic.
  • And what would a trip to the rink be without a fat woman lording over a brood of ill-behaved brats? I mean FAT in this case. I didn't know Jordache made circus tent sized jeans in acid wash. How do these lardasses even wedge their corpulent feet into a pair of skates? (Hell, how do they even see their feet to try to put their skates on?) I know Darius Kasparaitis used peanut butter to lube his feet to get his skates on after breaking a bone in his foot, but I'd be afraid of women this size eating the whole jar.
I took up skating as a nice little escape from reality for a few hours. Reality is starting to creep in.

I seriously need to invest in an mp3 player so I can shut these fuckers out.

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