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(Red) We crash-landed in the most glorious City by the Bay in the wee hours of a dark night. After crossing the wretched stretch of land between the mountains and the coast, we were exhausted and in need of a drink. DJ and J.S. provided with a quick hop up the street to Franks to procure libation while Max played dj and I supervised. We stayed up late with Gidget, Max's housemate, catching up on all our troubled pasts until each of us drifted off to an even more troubled sleep. 7pm Saturday came much too early fore the Chumming.Com Staph was understandably one hurting unit. We had just survived countless assaults to our well being over the past 6000 miles and we needed some quality shut-eye for a change. We rallied back to consciousness with the help of a Wild Turkey we know and our good friend and physicianado Dr. Tequila n Mota. Max took charge as we crowded into DJ's battered road machine to make the 20-minute trek south of San Francisco to San Mateo. We were due at Tiny's 29th Birthday Party at the World Famous Rolladium and we were anxious to get down with the ladies. Upon entering the Rolladium I was thrown back 15-minutes to where I had been earlier, outside on the street. I expected to be transported back 20 years to the Fabulous 70's... but... this was not the RollerRink scene that I so joyfully remember from my sheltered upbringing in the corn town of Madison, Indiana... or maybe it was... let me see here. After being frisked by some guy in an 'Intervention Squad' jacket and passing a lie detector test, I exchange my holy sneakers for 8-wheels of screaming terror and take a look around. I spot Tiny towering above the masses and quickly head her way. Tiny is a 6 foot-something SuperVixen with outstanding womanly qualities and a disposition to match. We arrive to find her holding court over a posse of equally well equipped RolLorelei straight from the celluloid panes of Barbarella. Tonight they are all decked out for the occasion in classic 70's attire, most of them sporting the most celebrated of bygone fashions, the Tube Top. Ahh, I am gently transported through calming skies to a pleasantly timeless oasis. I drink in the 70's for a bit, daydreaming about that first "Couple's Only Skate" I had with Ashley Hanson and her Tube Top back in good old Nineteen Hundred and Seventy Seven... I am rudely dropped back into the present by a particularly vicious base line and decide to play my hand on the updated-for-the-90's hardwood rink before me. So I waited for my song... and I waited... and I waited... But there would be no Disco Duck at this Rolladium for Good Cousin Red tonight. No Siree, this place was smack dab square in the middle of 1998. I felt like I had been tossed into some Medieval Midget Hip-hop Gangsta Revival. Tunes were a pumpin' and the hordes of kids on the pine were going nuts. Flying around the rink, twisting and twirling in crazy gyrations, singing at the top of their lungs the lyrics to songs that I didn't recognize. Oh well, I guess not all that much has changed with the skating phenom in my 20 year absence. Sure, things have been updated a bit which makes me feel eerily "out of touch" with an entire generation... but kids out there are still having fun and chasing skirt in the secure, chaperoned environ of the RollerRink. Since I am always up for some good clean fun and I was indeed in the mood to chase skirt... I joined the throng on the floor. Everything seemed to be cool until I tried to go out during a particularly bustin'ass tune to raise the roof with some of the best of 'em... then things turned a little ugly. I was quickly surrounded by a legion of Teenage Gangsta Ninja RollerBoogiers and they weren't taking any of my shit. I found myself on the receiving end of high-speed fly-byes, forced evacuations and random kidney shots. It was truly rough out there. Finally my swollen and blistered feet got some relief due to the 11pm closing of the Rolladium... ahh, to be a teenager in this time of Marshall Law and Mandatory Curfews. Bummer for them but salvation for me. Shit, I don't think my body could have taken any more anyway. We gathered the Staph and made quick for the Mission District and a little soiree that awaited us there. Tiny was providing a place for everyone to cut loose and get down after rocking out at the "substance-free" Rolladium. The party was a typical San Francisco affaire for the first part of the evening. The blender was put on overtime and the celebration escalated with each passing minute and each guest's arrival. You could feel the Love of the City Rising with each Firm stroke of the blender's Hard blade. And then things kind of Exploded... Beauty certainly abounds. It seems as if the Chumming.Com crew had stumbled across the most magnificent of breeds at this pulsating little social event. Those that are uninhibited by the dressings of a ho-hum existence... those that will unabashedly bare their god-given talents for the perverse pleasure of an enthusiastic audience... When I heard about our hosts' plans for an evening encore, "The Flaming Nipples," my curiosity was understandably aroused. Things appeared to be shaping up quite nicely for our beleaguered Staph here in the most glorious of Cities by the Bay.
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