Frump Town, USA

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I have a decent amount of fears. Heights, birds, large bugs, alligator attacks…reasonable causes for concern. However, there is absolutely nothing I fear more than “letting myself go”. I don’t know if it’s because I’m American, or have taken too many trips to Disneyland, but the alarming amount of overweight, poorly dressed adults that I come in contact with in my lifetime have left me thoroughly fear stricken. How does this happen? WHY does this happen? Did something go wrong? Is it marriage? A mid-life crisis? Kids? Have you always been a big frumpy slob or did this happen overnight?! I gotta know.

What if I wake up one day, 4 years into my marriage, and I’m just like, you know what, fuck it- I’m gonna buy this shirt with howling wolves on it! I’d better get it two sizes bigger for comfort. I’ll pair it with some stretchy pants and granny panties. I want everyone to see the lines of my underwear through the pants. WHO CARES ABOUT MY GENERAL APPEARANCE?! Hey! Now that I think about it, I’ll cut all my hair off so I look completely asexual. Will my husband ever be physically attracted to me again? NOT MY PROBLEM! I’M COMFORTABLE!

It’s terrifying. I was in Vegas this past weekend and I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. These big humongous people could not give two fucks about what they were wearing or that they closely resembled beached whales. YOU’RE NOT EVEN GOING TO TRY?!

When I used to work at Morton’s Steakhouse, a gentleman came in with his family wearing – I KID YOU NOT- a plaid shirt with plaid shorts. Two completely different kinds of plaid. I don’t know what’s more horrifying: the fact that he made that wardrobe choice or that his wife was ok being seen in public with him in it. The amount of dads that would waddle into this five star steakhouse feeling perfectly content in khaki shorts and huge white Nikes literally made me sick to my stomach.

Look, I’m not an overachiever in the fashion department by any means. Yoga pants and a top bun are my go-to look. BUT COME ON. These people woke up, got out of bed, threw on a shirt with a map of Yosemite on it, put some sandals on OVER their socks, glanced in the mirror (presumably) and thought, I can totally wear this in public! I will encounter giant women throughout my day that resemble an old pillow and I am 98% certain they’ve never owned a hairbrush. HOW CAN YOU JUST GIVE UP ON YOURSELF LIKE THAT?!

My hairdresser is a beautiful, put together woman. She always has her hair styled, nails done, flawless eyeliner. I expressed my fears to her one time and she shook her head aggressively and assured me that the way I am now is the way I will always be. i.e., I will transition from a comfortably chic young adult to a trendy, yet low maintenance (in the fashion department, anyway) woman. My metabolism will surely slow down, but if I care now, I’ll continue to care. I could totally picture my pretty stylist as a young 20-something with equally impeccable eyeliner and perfectly ironed Guess? jeans. That’s who she is.

I guess all of these giant, badly dressed frumps were once fugly little kids that eventually turned into dweeby teens who slowly became out-of-touch young adults, and viola. Circle of life if you will. No one took the time to pull them aside and suggest an upper lip wax or tell them that you don’t really need a bright neon strap around your sunglasses.

So I guess I feel a little better, but not completely off the hook.  My dude suggested that we move to Europe where people are much more trendy and thin, but I care too much about quality dental work to make that kind of commitment.

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Why I Don’t Care About Football Anymore

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If you’ve ever been around my father, met my roommate, or creeped back on my Facebook a few years, you’re probably aware that I’ve experienced my fair share of football watching. I don’t know if it’s because I enjoy watching people get knocked down or if I was grasping at straws for some attempt to bond with my dad, but for a decent amount of time I found myself actually giving a shit about the sport.

Football is pretty cool actually, the guys who participate in it are pretty attractive sometimes, sports bars have the potential to be a good time, and I really enjoy a decent Super Bowl party. Being a San Diegan, born and bred, I naturally gravitated to the Bolts, despite the fact that we NEVER win. It was fun to wear jerseys on game days on talk shit to Oakland fans.

In the past year or so, however, I literally just stopped caring. I’ll eat chips and dip and cheer for touchdowns like any honest American, but I just don’t take kindly to threats. As soon as the rumors regarding the Chargers moving to L.A. started swirling around, my powder blue jersey started collecting dust in my closet. Something about a multi-millionaire reprimanding the city that has done nothing but show support because they can’t afford overpriced tickets doesn’t sit right with me. Granted, the Q is a dump and we’re due for a face lift, but I’d recommend winning a game or two before you start making demands. That’s none of my business though.

Carson City is a pretty gross town, so if you really want to go there, go. Seriously, go to India. The Chargers have become a less attractive high school boyfriend to me. If you want to go sit at a different lunch table, go ahead. Really. You’re not doing me any favors.

Besides the fact that our owner is a rich, whiny asshole- let’s just take a look at the fact that the NFL (a not-for-profit organization. THINK ABOUT THAT) is basically run by a bunch of rich, whiny assholes. They literally don’t give a shit about you, your kids, your dedication to the sport, or anything of that nature. Not only do they not care about you- they don’t care about the players. If the loss of Junior Seau and the countless amount of other suicides from the sport that no one will acknowledge isn’t a glaring reminder, I promise you I can come up with more.

Say or feel however you want, but as far as I’m concerned, if you continue to pay someone, let them represent your city/team, and place them as an icon for the world to see- that means you condone their behavior, both on and off the field. So in case you live under a rock, that means that the NFL condones cheating, murdering dogs, murdering people, sexually assaulting college students, and beating up women (God forbid you roll up a joint though). Am I leaving out any other crimes?

I know you think you’re watching a bunch of dudes battle for glory, but all you’re really doing is watching corporations fight for attention. Say “us” and “we” as much as you want, but you deep-throating Ruffles from you Lay-Z-Boy really isn’t contributing to this shit show.

So keep painting your faces, keep crying about “last season”, do whatever you want. I just posted a throwback on Instagram of me in a Chargers dress holding a blue and yellow football. Am I going to take it down? No, because I look adorable. Will I get drunk at your Super Bowl party? Probably. But I’m over it, I really don’t care. Have a great season everyone.