Not your momma's rollerskating rink

Here I was, minding my own business, grocery shopping at Giant with The Wifey and I see someone walk past me with a "DC Rollergirls" sweatshirt on. I didn't even know DC had a rollergirls' team, but any time I hear about anything having to do with women getting together to kick ass, I'm intrigued.

So, I'm adding this to the to-do list: Watch a DC Rollergirls' match. Or game. Or er, whatever they call it. (I'm not very well-versed on the sports' lingo, but my heart's in the right place.) They play at the Dulles Sportsplex and although I can't make it to the match/game tomorrow night, I'm adding the Web site to thee ol' bookmarks folder.

And the best part? Their names, son, their NAMES. Condoleeza Slice? Deja Bruise? Guantanamo Babe? Sweet mother. Now if only I can get them to give me a cool-ass name and add me to the honorable-mention-she's-not-really-playing lineup. Maybe that's what I'll ask for for Christmas. ...