So, continuing the Ultimate vein, this morning I biked up to the local high school track to do a little mini workout - warm up, 8 100 meter dashes, 4 200s, a medium paced mile and a cool down lap. I felt pretty good, thanks for asking. But the big weirdness worth blogging was that there was a pop warner football game going on that had morphed into a little suburban microcosm: ridiculously overweight parents, surgeried cougar scottsdale moms, barking coaches, kids dressed head to toe in Underarmor, brand new cleats, you name it. I swear, every kid walking by me had to have on a cool $500 of equipment and clothes. Crazy. But what pushed it over the top into a post-apocalyptic nightmare was the fully decked out corps of eight year old cheerleaders. All of this taking place at the site of future high school football games; I swear, it was like watching enculturation in action. Please kids, think for yourself! I won't be there for you.
And to that end, Beck and I are now going to leave for Dr. K-gorium's Magic Emporium and a big ol' Karaoke Party. I see no irony in this whatsoever. O! Suburbia! I mock your structure yet reap your rewards. There ain't no nothing nowhere.
(And yes, there will be a post-bash post. The forecast calls for a 90% chance of a "Sweet Child" with a very probable "Of Mine." Stay tuned).
(Please your bets on whether the Beck will deign to sing tonight. If anyone calls the song, you win a free... copy of the Ballad? Ugh).
(Random side note, and then yes, it's Dr. K-araoke time: the other day in class, when the aforementioned poli student kept dropping names, I wrote in my notebook, "He's very well read; it's well known." The person sitting next to me looked at my notes and gave me a very quizzical look. Sigh...)
No comments:
Post a Comment