Posts Tagged ‘disapproval’

Team Spirit, Moraga-Style

August 12, 2008

For the past week, there’s really only one thing I can remember that struck me as incredibly obnoxious.

SWIM TEAMS. Actually, not the teams, or the swimmers. Their cars.

The fucking obscene amount of SUVs, painted with flashy motivational messages. God damn. As if driving weren’t annoying enough, now I have to read “GO ROBBIE! SWIM FAST! WE LUUUUV YOU!” on the back of every fucking car I’m stuck behind at a red light.

This shouldn’t annoy me so much. Really. I get it, it’s team spirit. Little kids do swim team, and they are all so excited for the big meet. I understand; I feel that. I was bitching to my boyfriend (who swam until he was 15) about this, and he informed me that it’s not supposed to be annoying, the children are showing team spirit and the parents are showing their pride in their children. And it makes sense.


When I see all those decked-out cars, I don’t see spirit, I see Moraga moms at their best. Moraga moms, as a stereotype, are notorious for putting extreme amounts of pressure on their kid to be better than everyone else’s kid. There are exceptions (lots, actually!) but some of them are just ridiculous.

Let me do some Moragian -> English translation.

If someone’s rear window reads “Go, Jack, go! Swim fast! We love you!”, they really mean any of the following:

“Go, Jack! Swim to earn mommy’s love!”

“Go, Jack! Swim for mommy’s reputation!”

“Go, Jack! If you win, maybe tonight mommy won’t iron your face!”

“Go, Jack! Swim fast! And if all else fails, drown the opponent!”

Okay, okay. Maybe I’m wrong.

(I’m wrong.)

BUT I DON’T CARE. This is the vibe I get from these car messages. So to me, they don’t say “We love you!”, they say “We love you IF YOU WIN!”

And the funny thing is, no matter how wrong I am about swim teams and swim moms and Moraga, I can still try to indoctrinate you with my opinions because this is the internet. Thank god for that.

And, whoever put all those pink pirhanna pictures up, they’re cute and all, but not on every vertical surface in town. Please, as soon as you can be bothered, take them the fuck down. Thank you.

I swear, when I have children, they’re doing swim team. And they WILL like it. And when the big meet rolls around, I will write hilarious things on my windows. Ahh, the power of force.

P.S. I think swimmers are fantastic. They’re muscley and in shape and must be very dedicated to get up at 5 am for practice. These are all qualities I admire. Maybe Moraga moms should start painting pictures of their kid’s six-pack on their cars. This, to me, would be much more pleasant.


Mmm, Turkey Leg

July 23, 2008

I just got back last night from a trip to Southern California with Meliza and her family. We had a fabulous time! We left her house Sunday at 3 am and drove to Hollywood to see a taping of the Price is Right. Three hours in line was worth it, because it was basically an awesome, retro party with a bunch of really geeky strangers wearing “I LOVE DREW CAREY” t-shirts. And a few “MY DOGS AND I LOVE DREW CAREY- EVERYONE PLEASE SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR PETS IT’S THE RIGHT THING TO DO” t-shirts, because there’s really no better way to preach than from the back of a t-shirt worn on an early-morning game show. But I digress. We didn’t get called to be contestants, because apparently none of us have any personality whatsoever. But that’s okay. So, I chose to spend the hour revelling in my hatred for Drew Carey. He’s so un-funny. Worse game show host ever. Hating is one of my favorite pastimes, so I really enjoyed it.

Then, on Monday, we went to Disneyland! We got there at 8 am and didn’t leave until about 1 am…that’s like, 17 hours? My legs were unhappy with me, but I had a great time. I’d never been on a roller coaster before, so that was kinda cool. Except the reason why I’d never been on one was because I was scared shitless of them. But I went anyway, and just ended up screaming the whole time. Each scream was trying to be “FUCK!” but I never made it to the C, so they all just kind of blended into one indecipherable “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”.

We were standing in line for some Fantasyland ride, and I decided to be all bitchy and opinionated:

“I hate when adults put those harnesses and leashes on their kids. They’re children, not dogs! It’s not right to drag a human being around on a leash, and if your kid is stupid enough to run around like an idiot and get lost, or you’re too lazy to chase them, DON’T GO TO DISNEYLAND.”

I really do hate that. It makes me mad. I felt Meliza needed to know. Then, of course, I turn around, and right next to me in the cue line is some dude dragging a kid on a leash. He looked at me and kind of laughed, then said this:

“Haha, I guess it’s only teenagers that need to be on leashes?”

I shrugged. “It’s debatable.”

Then I kept on moving, feeling kind of bad for offending him but feeling more pissed than guilty because he had his kid on a fucking leash. So. Tough love time, Lazydad.

Maybe parents have good reasons for keeping kids on leashes. Maybe it’s because the children are seriously wicked and would chew off my leg if they weren’t tethered. But unless they come up to me and explain their situation, I don’t care, I’m going to judge those parents anyway.

Meliza and I bought a turkey leg at Disneyland. Not because either of us were hungry or had a hankerin’ for turkey, but because “TURKEY LEG” was proudly displayed on the menu, and for some reason, it was hilarious. So we gnawed at the turkey leg for about an hour. This thing should have been sold to us as a Dinosaur Leg, because it was huge. We named it Phillip; it came on rides with us. And Phillip was delicious.