Hooked on Wheels

I blame Sarah Kate. I do. I've been minding my own business, sitting around chomping on carrots and biscuits and watching TV on DVD (sign of desperation: I've started Star Trek: The Next Generation, which I know, I know isn't a bad show because most of my friends can launch into insane discussions about Picard and his brother and Riker's inherent sluttiness and exactly what season the show got good as a result of costuming, but still I feel like a total geek. Star Trek in general is like entering another rung of geekdom. It obliterates Buffy and the X-Files and reading for fun and wearing glasses and working in a comic shop. I might as well just buy a synthesizer and start wetting the bed). But then, like some sort of beacon in the night Sarah Kate goes all roller derby crazy and the next thing I know I'm at the Rollercade navigating through figure roller skaters and tiny children in Halloween costumes. My feet are blistered and my knee is pinched, but I am certainly going back for more. There were many lovely ladies who were more friendly than I can ever manage. Soon, very soon, I will make creamed spinach of them all.