Chicago League of Lady Arm Wrestlers

I went to last Friday’s (7÷25÷14) match. All I can say is that CLLAW is so awesome that my head exploded. A really really really entertaining experience that’s a steal for the $ 10 charged for admission. Seriously — its’ been my favorite night of the summer so far. Go see the spectacle!

I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day; I dislike the idea of mandated romanticism. So, when given the choice of spending V-​day weekend at CLLAW or doing something traditionally Valentine’s-y, I didn’t hesitate to answer with an enthusiastic «CLLAW, hell yeah!» Ok, maybe it didn’t play out exactly like that, but close.
If you’re thinking that this might be like a lady version of Stallone’s movie Over the Top, you’ll be disappointed. If you’re thinking it sounds a lot like an arm wrestling version of GLOW (
), you’re in the ballpark. CLLAW is a Sideshow Theatre production and fundraising event. In other words, it’s a theatrical production; it doesn’t pretend to be a real sporting event. The ladies don’t have huge guns, ‘roid rage or anything else you might expect. The ladies — approximately 12 of them — have crazy names, costumes and entourages (Killer Bee, Strawberry Shivcake, June Meat Cleaver, etc.). There’s also a hilarious supporting cast of announcers and referees.
Each wrestler works the crowd for CLLAW bucks. CLLAW bucks, which are $ 1, serve three purposes — they raise money for charity, they show support for your favorite wrestlers, and they enter you into a raffle at the end of each match-​up. The ladies are paired up and wrestle in elimination brackets; each round is a best of three with a fun wheel of challenges in the event of a tie. It all culminates in a championship arm-​wrestle off.
CLLAW is a great, budget-​friendly way to spend a Saturday evening while raising money for charity. I’m not sure if Logan Square Auditorium is CLLAW’s permanent home; my date and our friends had been to other venues to see CLLAW. At this event, there were two entry options, a $ 10 cash bar option and a $ 25 3-​hour all-​you-​can-​drink option. The bar was stocked with hard liquor and a few macrobrew options. It was great fun, we had a blast watching the debauchery and wagering on who would become champion. I can’t wait for the next one!
@ChicagoCLLAW

CLLAW was a ton of fun. The tournament of 16 costumed competitors took ~3 awesome hours. Entry fee was a suggested $ 5.00 (cash bar) or the $ 25.00 wristband deal. You can also bet CLLAW bucks on whichever wrestler you want which can get you free prizes. $ 1.00 gets you 2 CLLAW bucks so bet throughout the evening. Everyone got more and more rowdy and excited as the tournament progressed. No bad spots to stand because the venue was small enough to see all the action. An overhead camera was set up above the official arm wrestling platform for additional viewing pleasure.
The Mystic Celt is a pretty nice place. Place was definitely pumping late night with lots of people and music. There was a bit of contrast with the standard Mystic Celt crowd and the CLLAW competitors and fans :) Anyway, there’s no reason not to come check this out because $ 5.00 can get you a night of fun that you can’t get in most other places.

I’m baa-​aack! I finally had a weekend full of things interesting enough to review. So okay. .. .
CLLAW (Chicago League of Lady Arm Wrestlers) is technically a regularly-​scheduled fund-​raising activity for Sideshow Theater and other non-​profit organizations. But fundraising has never been more fun. With these events, you can be charitable while cheering on a group of outlandishly dressed lady (and I use the term loosely) arm wrestlers. You can «bet» on your favorites and win prizes. The whole evening is spoofy and often hysterically funny, but the prizes are genuinely nice. Last Friday’s match was held in the back rooms of the Mystic Celt Pub on Southport, and the $ 25 donation gave you access to full bar service for the evening. CLLAW schedules events several times a year – if you missed Friday’s, there will be other opportunitiesfor you to cheer on the last of the «big-​biceped broads» (to paraphrase Julia Sugarbaker).