Story Behind The Photo 8

A couple years ago I went skating with my cousin and her nieces. This is the same cousin that took me to Medieval Times where I got stank ass drunk. No, I was not drunk on skates. God, that would be a disaster just waiting to happen. I had not been on skates since I was like 6 or 7 and even then they weren’t mine and I wasn’t any good. I’m sure my big ass feet didn’t help this situation. We went to World On Wheels for this and it was one of those situations that made me question my judgment. As soon as I stepped in there and saw people flying around at the speed of Kenyans I decided that I wasn’t skating. Then I put on the skates and took one step to confirm this. My cousin was like “Boy, come on!”

I managed to not die when getting to the rink or whatever the hell its called which was an accomplishment in itself. I held the rail the entire time but still. This crap is way harder than it looks. I started getting pissed because there were kids doing dances and crap and literally skating circles around me. Enough is enough! I let go of the rail and almost broke my crazy neck. Jazz splits on skates aren’t as sexy as you’d think. After about half an hour I was comfortable enough not to die and started flying around in circles like I was in Rollerball. I was this close to knocking kids out!

After an hour I was sweating like Whitney Houston during an encore performance. My awesome Spiderman shirt kept people from seeing me pour from every inch of my skin. This was really fun and I managed to not get myself or a dozen innocent people killed. I did fall three times though. Once because gravity is a ruthless whore. Second time was trying not to destroy a pack of wayward children. The third time was because some asshats were holding hands and skating right towards me. I wish I had rammed them. I was tired but didn’t feel true pain until the next morning where it felt like I got a lap dance from Precious.