When we first moved to West Virginia, I was determined to soak in all that this state had to offer culturally. And you should know, dear Reader, that West Virginia does have a civic center, state ballet, symphony, and all of the other cultural staples that a state should indeed have. I am sure that we will get around to checking out those lovely things one of these days. But not until I attend the Rough N’ Rowdy Brawl one more time.
I realize that most places have a competition that involves boxing/fighting/organized violence. Las Vegas has the Ultimate Fighting Championship, and a host of other places showcase boxing and amateur fight nights. But no one, I mean NO ONE, does a fight night quite like West Virginia can. After what I witnessed last year at the Charleston Civic Center, I can no more skip this event more than I can skip Christmas.
As with most activities in my life, I didn’t really intend on going to the Rough N’ Rowdy Brawl. But we had just moved to West Virginia, and we didn’t have much else to do. My sister-in-law and her boyfriend invited us to go. I suppose boredom won over my usual revulsion for fighting competitions and interacting with the armpit of humankind in general. In spite of this, we go downtown, get to the Civic Center, and walk in to get our tickets. I look around at the crowd and notice an eerie similarity to the line that I would normally see at the DMV office. The thing that struck me as most interesting was how many kids were waiting to get into this event. Wait, this was amateur boxing, right? Not Disney on Ice? The little boys all had one of two haircuts: a mullet or mohawk. And most of them wore some form of hunting camouflage. Come to think of it, that is how most of the dads looked, too. Except for the more stylish set who decided to wear their Affliction shirts, which were in such abundance that my husband actually turned to me and asked if those were the new thing and should he get one.
Anyhow, we got in and were lucky enough to score the “kickass seats”, according to the guy at the ticket counter. These seats were on the floor right by the ring. Whatever body fluids were going to be flung, we might actually get a piece of it. Everyone was really excited for the whole thing, and apparently there was even a contest for the best ring girl. Fantastic. I was not only going to get to see a bunch of rednecks wail on each other, but I was going to see a little soft porn, too.
Apparently, the attendees of such an event do not come empty-handed. I discovered this fact as I spied a mason jar of what looked like water being passed down the aisle in front of us. Everyone in the row took a drink. Yup, you guessed it. The “water” was actually moonshine. And those people drinking it? They all just met that evening when they sat down.
The fights finally start. And I realize that the term “boxing” was a grossly inaccurate term for what they were actually doing. The movements more closely resembled a windmill that had drunk a lot of that moonshine and now is really, really drunk, angry and may or may not need some glasses. Each round was much the same as the first, except that the guys got bigger. But not the good kind of big, mind you. And apparently shirts were an unspoken taboo.
I felt like I had gotten my twelve dollars worth of entertainment at this point, but then things got better. Apparently, in an attempt to give women their rightful place in society, the women were also slated to fight following the men. Right away, I knew who my favorite contender would be: MOMMA MIA. Momma Mia, a 30-year old mother of seven, had dreamed of being in this competition most of her life, according to the newspaper. She just was pregnant for most of it and couldn’t. I just love it when women aim high in their aspirations. Another 39-year old woman who was 5’4” and 220 pounds was particularly entertaining. And then there was the 18-year old girl the size of a linebacker with her own airbrushed-designed t-shirt. There was actually one 20-year-old girl, Hannah, “The Silencer”, from West Virginia State University who really and truly boxed. But I was nervous for her. I was putting my bets on Momma Mia. Any woman with seven kids has already been through enough fighting already making an event like this literally child’s play to her. And the other women were so large and big and mean that all of the professional coaching in the world wasn’t going to save poor Hannah.
In all, the Rough N' Rowdy Brawl didn’t disappoint. In particular, I think that it was a proud day for women everywhere. And if it weren’t for all of the moonshine-swilling fans producing their own fights in the stands, I am sure that they would have agreed, too. I simply cannot wait to get back and cheer for Momma Mia again, if she isn’t pregnant again.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Pest Control
by CityMom: Leanza Cornett Steines
Growing up in the Appalachian mountains, I somehow escaped the inevitable. Actually, now that I think about it, I escaped it no matter where I grew up since it seems that Head Lice is a universal, indiscriminating issue. As far as I know, and as far as my parents tell me, I never had lice. They could be sparing my pride on this one, since the highlight of my career thus far has had a lot to do with wearing a crown and that would just be ironic, wouldn't it? Anyway, the subject and concern of lice has eluded me in my own life, luckily. However, as the mother of two boys I have been schooled on the fact that it can happen anytime, anywhere, to anyone.
Case in point: a few years ago, when Youngest was still in pre-school, I received a rather upsetting email from the school's director saying that there had been an "outbreak" of lice with a few of the other students. Envisioning a movie-style Andromeda Strain kind of pandemic, I went into full panic mode and bought not one, not two, but THREE kits which promised to rid us of any and all bugs. There were explicit instructions, of course...combing, washing, drying, conditioning, combing again, washing again, anti-lice solution. On top of that, I was supposed to wash pillows, sheets, stuffed animals, clothes...wipe down my car, and virtually anything my child's head may or may not have touched. Not to mention going through the entire routine with Oldest, lest he be infected as well. I felt like I was in the middle of that scene from E.T. The Extra Terrestrial where the guys in the suits and vacuum sealed vans come to examine the alien.
As it turned out, Youngest didn't have "The Lice" as my friend Sue's mom liked to say, God rest her soul. However, I DID have the heebie-jeebies and have never quite gotten over the compulsive itching anytime I see a fleck of dandruff. Oh dear...chills down my spine just writing about it.
I bring this little story up because today, in an odd conversation with a friend of mine, the subject of lice came up. I know...very odd. Seems her kid got The Lice and she, like me, was in panic mode over the whole thing. So she did what every good mom living in Los Angeles does. She called the HAIR WHISPERERS. Oh yes...there is such a thing. Look it up. Go ahead. Google it...Hair Whisperers, Los Angeles, Lice. Those are your key words.
That's not all. The Hair Whisperers have competition. There is yet another rid-your-kid-of-lice place in LA called the HAIR FAIRIES. I'm sure there are others but these are the two I've been made aware of. Both boast of being the best at "nit-picking" and getting rid of any and all critters in your kid's head and your household. I'm not sure of the cost, because it isn't posted on the website, but they also offer a mobile service, just in case you happen to be the type of person who doesn't want to be seen walking into such a place. I imagine no one does, but in LA that can be a deal-breaker, I'm sure.
Funny thing is this: my friend ended up using the services of her very own nanny, who'd seen and experienced this problem many times before and got rid of the lice with her own solutions, routines and potions. And then, you know what? My friend saw a wonderful opportunity for her nanny and went for it. So now her nanny has a little side business...HAIR TODAY GONE TOMORROW. For half the price of those other places, she goes and gets those bugs and everyone is critter-free.
If the you-know-what hits the fan and I find myself or my loved ones itching, I know who to call. Gotta love Los Angeles.
Growing up in the Appalachian mountains, I somehow escaped the inevitable. Actually, now that I think about it, I escaped it no matter where I grew up since it seems that Head Lice is a universal, indiscriminating issue. As far as I know, and as far as my parents tell me, I never had lice. They could be sparing my pride on this one, since the highlight of my career thus far has had a lot to do with wearing a crown and that would just be ironic, wouldn't it? Anyway, the subject and concern of lice has eluded me in my own life, luckily. However, as the mother of two boys I have been schooled on the fact that it can happen anytime, anywhere, to anyone.
Case in point: a few years ago, when Youngest was still in pre-school, I received a rather upsetting email from the school's director saying that there had been an "outbreak" of lice with a few of the other students. Envisioning a movie-style Andromeda Strain kind of pandemic, I went into full panic mode and bought not one, not two, but THREE kits which promised to rid us of any and all bugs. There were explicit instructions, of course...combing, washing, drying, conditioning, combing again, washing again, anti-lice solution. On top of that, I was supposed to wash pillows, sheets, stuffed animals, clothes...wipe down my car, and virtually anything my child's head may or may not have touched. Not to mention going through the entire routine with Oldest, lest he be infected as well. I felt like I was in the middle of that scene from E.T. The Extra Terrestrial where the guys in the suits and vacuum sealed vans come to examine the alien.
As it turned out, Youngest didn't have "The Lice" as my friend Sue's mom liked to say, God rest her soul. However, I DID have the heebie-jeebies and have never quite gotten over the compulsive itching anytime I see a fleck of dandruff. Oh dear...chills down my spine just writing about it.
I bring this little story up because today, in an odd conversation with a friend of mine, the subject of lice came up. I know...very odd. Seems her kid got The Lice and she, like me, was in panic mode over the whole thing. So she did what every good mom living in Los Angeles does. She called the HAIR WHISPERERS. Oh yes...there is such a thing. Look it up. Go ahead. Google it...Hair Whisperers, Los Angeles, Lice. Those are your key words.
That's not all. The Hair Whisperers have competition. There is yet another rid-your-kid-of-lice place in LA called the HAIR FAIRIES. I'm sure there are others but these are the two I've been made aware of. Both boast of being the best at "nit-picking" and getting rid of any and all critters in your kid's head and your household. I'm not sure of the cost, because it isn't posted on the website, but they also offer a mobile service, just in case you happen to be the type of person who doesn't want to be seen walking into such a place. I imagine no one does, but in LA that can be a deal-breaker, I'm sure.
Funny thing is this: my friend ended up using the services of her very own nanny, who'd seen and experienced this problem many times before and got rid of the lice with her own solutions, routines and potions. And then, you know what? My friend saw a wonderful opportunity for her nanny and went for it. So now her nanny has a little side business...HAIR TODAY GONE TOMORROW. For half the price of those other places, she goes and gets those bugs and everyone is critter-free.
If the you-know-what hits the fan and I find myself or my loved ones itching, I know who to call. Gotta love Los Angeles.
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