Tuesday, December 09, 2008

What's Happening To Me???

Here's something you'll like - Tito's playing on his very first soccer team. It's indoor 3 on 3 for little kids who often forget that they're not supposed to touch the ball with their hands. It's hilarious.

Last night was Tito's first game. I was trying so hard not to look like a soccer mom. And before I continue, let me clarify that I've got nothing against soccer moms. I just don't think I am one, and I definitely don't think I blend well with the soccer moms.

Really quick, let me tell you about my favorite soccer mom of all time, Alice. She's the mom of one of my high school friends. Alice is a Texan with the stereotypical Texas twang. In addition to my friend, Alice also had a son in my younger sister's class named Russ. Russ was an incredible athlete who excelled at EVERYTHING, but was particularly awesome at soccer.

Whenever Russ would leave for a sporting event, instead of telling him to play hard, do your best, or kick the other guy in the nuts because the game doesn't start until you get a yellow card...no. Her pep talk?


Only with the twang, it sounded like BAY SWAY-T!

Good thing for Russ he was such a badass athlete who could school you in the sport of your choice any day of the week or he'd have been mocked relentlessly for that BAY SWAY-T shit.

Anywho, last night I wore this shirt,

and I brought my knitting so I'd appear preoccupied and not really interested in the action on the field of play. Who did I think I was kidding?

At one point Tito ran into some other kid, knocked him down and kept on running after the ball. I heard myself say, very quietly, "That's right, baby, no mercy. NO MERCY." R heard me too, and gave me a glare that said Can you hear yourself??

Later in the game, Tito tripped over some other kid's foot as they were both going for the ball. I yelled, "You're all right, baby... walk it off!!" and as soon as the word Off escaped my lips, I covered my mouth with both hands, to prevent any other soccer mom speak from slipping out. Y'know, since stuff so rarely slips out before I can stop it...

And then I started (very quietly) snarking with R on this little prissy pink bow-headed girl named Ava

who ran away from the ball every time it came near her. Shit, if she can't take the fuckin pressure, get her the fuck off the field before she breaks a fucking nail, for fuck's sake!!! R's jaw dropped.

Oh, my God. OH. MY. GOD.

Remember the Thriller video, when Michael Jackson starts turning into the werewolf and it shows his veins bulging and eyeballs turning yellow right before he starts howling at the moon? I swear, I could literally feel myself morphing into Soccer Mom. Instead of hair growing on the back of my hands like a werewolf, my hair pulled itself into a ponytail and through the back of a baseball cap, and my clothes turned into a matching Adidas workout suit. It was truly scary.

And you should have seen me when my baby scored a goal.

In yer FACE, Ava!!!!!


Kevin C said...

Just remember, PK, that you're not a soccer mom until you drive a minivan and spend your time shuttling people around.

Oh. Well, maybe I'll get you an Adidas track suit and some Scrunchis for Christmas.

Penny Karma said...

Using my own words against me. Brilliant.

You get me one Scrunchie and I swear to fuckin Christ I will twist said Scrunchie around and around your dick so tight it'll turn purple and fall off.

Penny Karma said...

And I am WAY sexier in my van now!!

Carina said...

Dude, I say that stuff to other people's kids at football games. I guess you can't take the football sister out of me. You should've seen me when I was a high school teacher cheering on my students.

Trillian42 said...

If it makes you feel any better, my GRANDFATHER used to tell my uncle to "walk it off" or "rub some dirt in it" when he was a kid. And he was playing baseball. So I think that one is not exclusively soccer-mom material.

Penny Karma said...

Rub some dirt in it? I should totally say that next time!

It'll be funny. Cuz it's indoor.

SiressYorkie said...

You could show up to one of his games with your "Designated Driver" flask on your hip and a can of chaw rolled up in your shirt sleeve.

Or wear your, "God don't want me, and Hell's afraid I'll take over" shirt.

Or wear a rasta hat and reek of the wacky tobacky.

I'm just sayin', if you wanna be different, stick out a little.

When hubby played basketball and I sat in the stands, I tried to set myself apart from the other military wives by shouting random things: "Stick it to The Man!" and "Four more years!"...stuff like that.

Kevin said...

I am so going to check and see if my friend's vintage clothing store considers the '80's "vintage" - because if she does, you are getting a MJ jacket.

Penny Karma said...

You get me one vintage red leather jacket with a hundred zippers on it and I swear to fuckin Christ I will daintily place your dick into every single zipper, and quickly yank said zipper up so as to snag your scrotage therein.