How do women spend their days, if not tumbling across their Tempurpedics clad in nude hose? Well, some women journey about their home areas or farther afield to ride skateboards. Yesterday I saddled up my wonderful economy car and picked up a couple gals to hit Venice skating board park.

What is wonderful about Venice skatepark? Several things, amongst which I count:

1. No bikes or scooters, just skating boards.
2. A profusion of shredders
3. A deeply excellent mix of the California human demographic, plus tourists taking photographs to bring home and say, “LOOK! CALIFORNIA!” Owing to nothing north of being a female on a skateboard who dresses like the early 80’s showers down from her hairdo, I believe I am in more than a couple vacation photographs. Not boosting a sick air or anything, just pushing along in a bandana and tube socks, with my butt out. COMING THROUGH!
4. Great features.
5. Lots of sunglasses available for purchase at bargain prices very nearby.
6. Invariably there is at least one crusty old dude skating whom I assume is a former pro. Big board (often SMA), super-weathered skin, drooping sweatpants (with pair of shorts under them), sweatshirt, knit hat. BLESS US ALL.

We got to hit the snake run a bunch, which is harder when there are a lot of people there. There was doobie wafting in the air everywhere. I skated the big bowl a bunch and tried to get higher on the walls. Getting out of that bowl is an exercise in athletic humiliation. Plus I have a WRIST GUARD (hold your applause) on my left wrist lately owing to boofing it up too many times. So without the wrist flexibility I am further encumbered and get to, in my penguin-style stride, run at the wall, throw my board up, slide backwards. Run at the wall again heave the top half of my wonderful body over the coping while my legs dangle in the bowl. I prop my arms on the concrete like the legs of a wicker chair that spent the winter outdoors in Portland and heave myself up, dragging my huge kneepads over the coping AND I’M OUT!! Okay! You guys I’m (mostly) gay stop hitting on me!

We wanted to save some energy for more parks so after a while we left for Avocado Heights. We talked about super deep shit in the car. I don’t know why. Families! Who are those jokers? We also talked about erotic behavior. Specifically we talked about my friend S who was riding shotgun and how she likes to turn the lay-sentence into sexual innuendo. This is hard for me to handle, even though I spent the 90’s in San Francisco and have stood at a bar ordering a drink while someone I knew was being fisted on the floor next to me. I mean actually next to me: about two feet away. But you see, I had to turn away. I didn’t want to watch. I didn’t mind it being there, and I knew I would refer to it for the rest of my living days, but I don’t actually want to watch anyone I know having sex. I also don’t want to excessively josh about sex. I also don’t want to watch sex scenes in Liz and Dick. What is my damage? I told S that my Victorian collar was getting higher and my skirt getting longer with every moment of sex talk. Am I becoming a prude? Do I not know how to be a sexual person? Do I act like I am smooth under my clothes? I just think of my personal relationship to sex as private. I guess I will be Scandinavian for the rest of my life.

We skated Avocado Heights. I love the flow of that place. The whole park is beautiful, and the skatepark itself is a great time. I love the bricks/China walls, the weird banks, and the foliage. It would be awesome to have more pool coping or a bowl but you know what, that’s everywhere else. I need not complain. There was a very cute girl who was probably about 8 years old with a pink Barbie helmet sitting lopsided on her head, learning to skate. We talked for a while. She had a very encouraging dad.

Belvedere was our final park of the day. It got dark and the lights didn’t come on, although every soccer field for miles was brightly lit. LAME.

THEN WE WENT OUT FOR MARGARITAS!!!!!!!!!