Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The Male Brain

I admit it. I was skeptical. A female psychiatrist writes a book called The ‘Male Brain’. I know what you are all thinking. “What? Are you f*cking kidding me? A female doctor who’s too pretty to be smart knows more about the male brain than The Captain, that armchair psychologist with advanced degrees in BS from the University of Hard Knocks who has the distinct advantage of actually possessing a male brain?” That was actually my thinking, but no matter, because, being a male, I only pretend to care about what others think because my gender engenders the quiet confidence that I’m always right. I dare anyone to get more ‘male’ than that! But back to our author. I assumed that, having a ‘Female Brain,’ she would simply ignore anything a man has to say and write what she wanted anyway. But I am going to shock you all. Though I do not need to assume anything to make an ass out of myself, I openly (but not gayly) admit that our author is not only attractive, but also makes some valid and creative arguments that – gasp – appeal to my male brain! See my commentary below in red.

The 'Male Brain': So that explains it
By Dr. Louann Brizendine

Hot Red Head Dr. Louann Brizendine (I cropped her bosom to avoid falling into a Man Trance.)


(CNN) -- Although women the world over have been doing it for centuries, we can't really blame a guy for being a guy. Thank you Saint Louann Brizendine! And this is especially true now that we know that the male and female brains have some profound differences. Men have known this since forever; we have bigger heads, ergo bigger brains. Duh!
Our brains are mostly alike. We are the same species, after all. I’m not convinced this is true. But the differences can sometimes make it seem like we are worlds apart.

The "defend your turf" area -- dorsal premammillary nucleus (this sounds like a female organ if you ask me) -- is larger in the male brain and contains special circuits to detect territorial challenges by other males. And his amygdala, the alarm system for threats, fear and danger is also larger in men (Men often fight over whose amygdala is bigger). These brain differences make men more alert than women to potential turf threats.

Meanwhile, the "I feel what you feel" part of the brain -- mirror-neuron system -- is larger and more active in the female brain. So women can naturally get in sync with others' emotions by reading facial expressions, interpreting tone of voice and other nonverbal emotional cues. This is perhaps the cruelest fraud perpetuated by Mother Nature (a woman, of course). She allows humankind to develop highly complex languages but then sneaks the old mirror-neuron system into the female brain while men were out hunting or gathering or something. So as men attempt to communicate with uniquely human sounds which form arbitrary auditory symbols that we as social animals agree to communicate with, women are looking at our faces and our posture and completely ignoring the words which are the product of millions of years of evolution.

Perhaps the biggest difference between the male and female brain is that men have a sexual pursuit area that is 2.5 times larger than the one in the female brain. I question this assertion. Remove the decimal point and I might agree. And what’s the scientific name for this part of the brain? Grabthegluteous? Not only that, but beginning in their teens, they produce 200 to 250 percent more testosterone than they did during pre-adolescence.

If testosterone were beer, a 9-year-old boy would be getting the equivalent of a cup a day. But a 15-year-old would be getting the equivalent of two gallons a day. OMG. Was she spying on me? This fuels their sexual engines (Ha! Testosterone is the Gasoline for the Grabthegluteous!) and makes it impossible for them to stop thinking about female body parts and sex. I think it’s time women embrace their female body parts as much as men embrace them.

And so begins the 'Man Trance'

All that testosterone drives the "Man Trance"-- that glazed-eye look a man gets when he sees breasts (or scientifically, Peepatpectoralust). As a woman who was among the ranks of the early feminists, I wish I could say that men can stop themselves from entering this trance. But the truth is, they can't. Here comes the long-winded non sequitur. During a spirited lunch time discussion with coworkers (2 male, 2 female), the long term effects of acknowledging the existence of the “Man Trance” were discussed. The men initially saw this as a positive and revolutionary step for the advancement of inter-gender communication. Finally, women would comprehend us, thus eliminating all the heartburn and headache associated with trying to make women understand; but of course, it took a woman to point out the potential pitfalls of such a development. Our own brains can be used against us! She suggested that all a woman has to do to gain political, social and economic power over a man is approach him and stick out her boobs, instantly inducing a “Man Trance,” rendering the male completely helpless. Rather than being seen as a demeaning and objectifying gesture, the boob attack would become the ultimate weapon in turning the world on its head by allowing women to gain control of the Universe. Let me tell you, this did not sound very appealing to us guys! Their visual brain circuits are always on the lookout for fertile mates. Whether or not they intend to pursue a visual enticement, they have to check out the goods. Ha! I love it. Guys, next time you get caught checking out the goods, your response should be, “Sorry, my visual brain circuits were pursuing visual enticement.” You’ll still probably get slapped, but it’s worth a try.

To a man, this is the most natural response in the world, so he's dismayed by how betrayed his wife or girlfriend feels when she sees him eyeing another woman. I did not write this - a highly educated woman did. Men look at attractive women the way we look at pretty butterflies. They catch the male brain's attention for a second, but then they flit out of his mind. Five minutes later (try 5 hours!), while we're still fuming, he's deciding whether he wants ribs or chicken breast for dinner. He, if married for less than 5 years, asks us, "What's wrong?" We say, "Nothing." He shrugs and turns on the TV. We smolder and fear that he'll leave us for another woman. I had no idea that really worked!

Men look at attractive women the way women look at pretty butterflies. Thanks for another great argument, Louann. Next time your spouse or girlfriend starts smoldering because you were looking at pretty butterflies, tell her, “No need to worry, darling, when’s the last time I had sex with a butterfly?” Not surprisingly, the different objectives that men and women have in mating games put us on opposing teams -- at least at first. The female brain is driven to seek security and reliability ($$$) in a potential mate before she has sex. But a male brain is fueled by booze to mate and mate again (so the Mormons had it right all along!). Until, that is, he mates for life. No, she must be talking about Swans.

Despite stereotypes to the contrary, the male brain can fall in love just as hard and fast as the female brain, and maybe more so. When he meets and sets his sights on capturing "the one," mating with her becomes his prime directive. And when he succeeds (he moves on to “number two, and so on and so forth), his brain makes an indelible imprint of her. Lust and love collide and he's hooked.

The 'Doting Daddy Brain'

A man in hot pursuit of a mate doesn't even remotely resemble a devoted, doting daddy. But that's what his future holds. Don’t tell us that! When his mate becomes pregnant, she'll emit pheromones that will waft into his nostrils, stimulating his brain to make more of a hormone called prolactin. Her pheromones will also cause his testosterone production to drop by 30 percent. Guys, we need to lobby the Pharmaceutical Industry to develop an antidote to prolactin!!!!!! These hormonal changes make him more likely to help with the baby. They also change his perceptual circuitry (I already have booze to do this, why do I need prolactin?), increasing his ability to hear a baby cry, something many men can't do very well before their wives are pregnant. And with good reason!!

And a word to the wise for all the young mothers who are reluctant to let your husbands hold and care for your newborn. The more hands-on care a father gives his infant, the more his brain aligns with the role of fatherhood. So, hand over the baby. AAARRGGGHHHHHHH!!

His emotions run deep

Although men have earned the reputation for being more stoic than women, they actually have stronger emotional reactions than we do. They just don't show it very often. She lies! How could she possibly know this? She’s a woman!!
The male brain can fall in love just as hard and fast as the female brain, and maybe more so.

Studies of men's faces show that the male brains initial emotional reaction can be stronger than the female brain's. But within 2.5 seconds, he changes his face to hide the emotion, or even reverse it. The repeated practice of hiding his emotions gives men the classic poker face. Wrong, wrong, wrong on this one Louann. These behaviors are performed by men to make women think that men have deep feelings. I can assure you that those 2.5 seconds are spent thinking about visual enticement.

It's his poker face and his analytical response to personal problems that can put him in the doghouse. Correction. Any act on his part, be it trivial or innocuous, can get him in the doghouse; it’s all dependent on the mood of his woman. She's crying as she talks about what's wrong with the relationship, and instead of hugging her, his mind is racing to find a way to resolve the problem as soon as possible. Well, she got this half right. His mind is racing… to figure out a way to end the conversation ASAFP so that it can get back to thinking about what it should be thinking about – visual enticement. With practice and because of the way their brains are wired, men use their analytical brain structures, not their emotional ones, to find a solution.

They enjoy this advantage, but women often take affront to it. Why do women always feel affronted when men enjoy an advantage over them?? When you're telling your husband your problem and he tries to solve it instead of hearing you out, you may think he's being insensitive. But that's not what's going on in his brain. He's working to solve the problem so he can (end the conversation ASAFP) relieve your pain as quickly as possible. Not because he doesn't care or doesn't want to listen, but because he loves you. Yeah, that’s it sweetie.

'Lovable Grandpas' and 'Grumpy Old Men'

As men age, the male brain hormones change and the male brain and body goes into the stage of life called andropause. The king of male hormones -- testosterone -- goes down and the queen of female hormones -- estrogen -- goes up. Lies, lies and more lies!! She failed to mention ‘Dirty Old Men’ who are no different from young men if you discount the age difference. Whether Grandpa is your kids' hero or the grouch they hate to visit depends a lot on how he handles these hormonal changes. For example, if his testosterone levels drop to an abnormally low level, he can feel tired, irritable and even depressed – in other words, like a woman!. Some men in this condition seek hormone replacement therapy and others (real men) find relief in exercise, more frequent sex, and spending more time with other people.

· Whether Grandpa is your kids' hero or the grouch they hate to visit depends a lot on how he handles these hormonal changes.
The grandpa that kids can't wait to see is the one who's feeling the effects of the hormone oxytocin, often called the "cuddle hormone." I’m pretty sure oxytocin is found in beer. He's fun and playful and likes to hear what his grandchildren have to say. He's much more patient with your children than he was with you, when you were growing up. Everyone knows it’s easier to be patient with kids you can send away at the end of a long day without any legal repercussions. The love circuits of the mature male brain can be hijacked by his grandkids, even more than they were by his own children. That just sounds so wrong.

The 'Lonely Hearts Club'

Not only is the mature male (oxymoron) brain more receptive to closer bonds, but it's also more sensitive to loneliness. Nobody thrives when they're lonely, but it seems to take a major toll on older men. Sixty-five percent of divorces in couples over the age of 60 are initiated by women, leaving their husbands shell-shocked and devastated. This is the untold story about why middle aged men divorce their wives to be with younger women – they know what’s coming once they hit sixty so they’re simply making a preemptive strike.

Once his wife leaves, unless he makes a point of socializing more with other people, his brain stops getting the social workout it needs to make him feel good about himself. Simply not true. He still has the right to purchase alcohol and his two hands. If he becomes a loner, his social-approval circuits don't get activated. In brain scan studies of older males researchers have found that the brain's pleasure and reward areas, the VTA and the NAC, remain more active in men who are social. So don't begrudge the divorcee or the new widower some socializing and seeking female companionship. Finally some good advice again.

The bottom line

The male human brain is the best learning machine on the planet and male human beings are capable of making major changes in our lives. But there are some things that the male brain and female brain are not likely to change anytime soon. And it makes more sense to deal with these brain realities, than to argue with them or ignoring them.

The best advice I have for women is make peace with the male brain. Let men be men. Hallelujah Sister. Amen to that!

Believe The Captain when he exhorts: Men – prepare to do battle! Women – take out your weapons!

Yours…Los-ing…the…bat-tle…


The…Cap-tain

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

The Oxymorons

“Oxymoronic” is one of my favorite words. First, it describes so much of what The Captain sees as he navigates the deep, mysterious waters of life. It is quite possible, if not entirely likely, that my phenomenological filters are fried and cracked and I am viewing the world through a broken prism, which would make everything appear contradictory and disjointed but nevertheless interesting in a twisted, colorful, kaleidoscopic sort of way. But you know all this. I also like it because within it is the word “moron.” But, to take it beyond the literary, I would be surprised if most of you did not also see the humorous irony in the juxtaposition of two opposites when walking the dog or traversing the long, nondescript aisles in your corporate prisons pretending to be lost while looking for a meeting you have no intention of attending. I invite you all to submit your own instances; I will gladly publish them if they are funny. But for now, on to The Captain’s virgin list of life’s Oxymorons!

· Gym Teacher. I never once witnessed an act of teaching in gym class, unless you consider showing the jocks how to use a dodgeball to knock down nerds like bowling pins didactic.

· Star Trek Food. For a ground breaking Science Fiction TV show with imaginative features like Warp drive and the deconstructing and reconstructing of the human molecular structure by drunk Scotsman, it is ironically inexplicable that its renditions of futuristic food look an awful lot like the Play-Doh meals I prepared as a lad.

· “Skinny” Jeans on not so skinny people. Let’s not sugar coat this. The Jeans companies had a reason for inserting this adjective. If this adjective does not describe you, then I suggest you shop in the “Loose Fitting” section.

· Reality TV. My life may be bizarre, but it’s certainly not scripted or edited. In real life, we don’t get a chance to read the script ahead of time or edit our “film” after behaving badly. I wish that I had a “Reality TV” mode I could switch on just before I go out drinking.

· Project Managers. These are people who work in businesses about which they know nothing but get paid way-too-much-fucking money to boss around, nag, bother and pontificate over the people who actually know something about the business they work in and who make far-too-little fucking money. If you are a Project Manager reading this, don’t be offended. You know less but make more. So who’s smarter?? It doesn’t get more Oxymoronic than that!

· Smart Blondes. They’re out there and ironically have a distinct advantage over smart brunettes or redheads precisely because people underestimate their intelligence. The truly smart blondes act dumb because they are smart while truly dumb blondes act dumb because they are dumb. Confused? That’s exactly what the smart blondes want you to be you Oxymorons!

· My Myrmidons. In spite of my jibes and insults and incoherence and incontinence and superfluous exclamation points and unbearably long non sequitur parentheticals, you remain loyal readers. And for that Oxymoron I say THANK YOU!

Believe The Captain when he says: I’m just a plain old Moron!

Yours with sincere apologies to Project Managers (of course, you have no way of really knowing if I am sincere, unless you dare to probe the depths of my psyche – far too scary – or are sitting next to me as I type to observe my body language or facial expressions – far too creepy – so I leave it ambiguous by design while executing my hidden agenda, which is to insert a long-winded parenthetical. Mission accomplished!)


The Captain

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Profession Pecking Order

There’s a pecking order among professions; we all know it. Mom reminded m…er, us every single goddamn time I tried to explain the dog ate my homework or when I once again managed to spill the purple grape juice on my homework log rendering it unreadable. Never mind that we didn’t have a dog, but stick to the messaging: study hard so you can get good grades and get into college so you can become a doctor or lawyer and make a lot of money to support madre’s financially burgeoning nicotine habit. Those two professions were at the top of the list because they draw large salaries and carry a good measure of social status as well. Then there is the next tier – professions that make good money but lack any cache whatsoever. Dentists come to mind. Insurance executives fall in here as well. Descending the ladder, we come to Insurance middle management, where The Captain toils. I ain’t rich and I ain’t poor and I certainly ain’t bragging to friends and family about what I do. Strangers have no need to even know. I’d like to say that this hierarchy is “unofficial” or all based on heresay and anecdotal evidence, except that we have a profession of social scientists who feel the need to conduct formal studies and pick on other professions because the rest of the world sees absolutely no need for a profession that likes to scientifically prove that we are nothing more than glorified gorillas. Yet, as I read the scientific literature, I can’t help but wonder if bias has crept into the methodology. Being a crusader for all sucky professions, I take umbrage with findings that are clearly myths created by social scientists who can’t get a date. So with the same discipline and rigor I applied to my homework, I submit to you my professional readers The Captain’s social examination of professions. My methodology relies on my gut and an ample supply of gin and limes. Suck on that you Sociologists!

· Doctors are better than lawyers. Let’s examine this one. Both screw us all out of a lot of money. Yes, lawyers screw their clients, but only figuratively. Doctor’s stick their arms up your rectum all the way up to their elbows. Which method do you prefer?


· Claims Adjusters are at the bottom of the popularity chain along with Dentists. Having been a Claims Adjuster, I readily acknowledge that I didn’t make a ton of friends; however, I never poked around the inside of anyone’s mouth with a sharp metal object (or if I ever engaged in such behavior it was always outside of the workplace and purely consensual and involved copious amounts of booze). To prove my point, the suicide rate among dentists is significantly higher than the rate for Claims Adjusters, who are more likely to be killed as the result of their own acts or omissions of liquor liability as opposed to the intentional act of bludgeoning oneself with a pair of dental forceps. Besides, have you ever gone to the mirror and taken a close look at the inside of your mouth? It’s no wonder those poor bastards take their own lives!

· Strippers are an interesting case. Most of us have been conditioned to assume that this “profession” is morally tainted and exploits young women. But it’s common knowledge that the vast majority of strippers are paying their way through graduate school by exploiting the weaknesses of their male clientele (ask any guy about this – I think these clubs recruit Marine Biology Majors). If I could get paid good money by simply using my God-given physical gifts, I most certainly would. Unfortunately, there is no market for someone who can wiggle their ears and nostrils at the same time. I blame God.

· School Teachers make steady money and enjoy the benefits of working in a profession that is romanticized and lauded. The only problem is, for every Mr. Holland there is a Mr. Glynn, who flunked out of Harvard because he was an uncontrollable lush and got stuck teaching English to a bunch of hooligans from West Torrington whose bitterness was exceeded only by his addiction. To be fair, he’d always buy for us at cost, so we liked him. But I do feel the need to expose some outrageous hypocrisy. Be honest. When a 14 year old male student has sex with a hot twenty-something female teacher, he is not a rape victim. He’s a freakin’ Hero!! The only reason he’s punished is because the Principal is pissed because his own romantic overtures were rebuffed by said teacher. The Captain is a truth teller.

· Blog Writers. The Captain does not make a living with his blog; but he has read many a blog that became famous and brought fame and fortune to its author. I guess I just don’t get it. I write about things that make me laugh. I tried cooking my way through a Julia Child cookbook so I could write about it and get discovered and have someone make a chickflick about it; unfortunately, I ran afoul of both the state Health Department and Animal Control division. How was I supposed to know that the snow white goose wasn’t wild but my neighbor’s daughter’s pet or that I needed a permit to slaughter it in public because it be carrying diseases?? I still insist it would have made a great movie but my probation officer tells me that any profits from books or movies about the commission of a crime would go straight to the victim, my neighbor. I’m toying with building a nuclear bomb using instructions I found by asking Jeeves so I can blog about it. Thoughts?

· Milk Man. No profession, not even Rock Star, has sex with as many beautiful women as this one. Got Milk Ma’am???

Believe The Captain when he asks: Got any spare plutonium?

Yours getting out the Duct tape,


The Captain

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

The Keg Party

There’s been a lot of buzz lately about something called the Tea Party. I’ve heard it described as a grassroots movement, a political party, or just a general attitude toward the policies of all incumbent politicians. But as far as I can tell, it’s a bunch of angry, overweight, unemployed white folks with nothing better to do with their time than attend protests so they can get on TV – who knows, maybe they actually think they’re auditioning for America’s Biggest Loser. Whatever it is, the Tea Party gets a lot more attention from the mainstream media than me. Then again, so does the local Primary School Chess Club (I hate it when 2nd graders kick my ass at chess!). While doing my internet research, I discovered that there is now a Coffee Party, which is really nothing more than a younger, thinner version of the Tea Party. I sensed a trend and have concocted a scheme to found a party which is sure to become the next darling of the mainstream media. I, The Captain, do hereby declare that I am the sole founder and beneficiary (royalties are all for me) of the Keg Party! Rather than boring my friends and family with political theories and policy debates about things none of us understands, I will champion the cause of that truly American institution, the very backbone of impolite society – the Keg Party. Now The Captain understands that, like the Tea Partiers, he must sell his movement by associating it with a famous historical event, even if that association is misguided and spurious. This was pretty easy. I chose the darkest moment in our glorious history, a time when delusion overcame reason, when the zealotry of religious fanaticism snuck up behind normalcy and nearly choked it to death. I am talking about Prohibition, a movement of angry religious nutjobs who managed to get a Constitutional Amendment passed MAKING ALCOHOL ILLEGAL FOR ALL AMERICANS!!!!!! Thank God for the forbears of the Keg Party who managed to survive this insidious attack on our freedom to get drunk and lead the charge to overturn this ill-begotten and truly evil amendment. It is to them that I dedicate this effort.

But I have been paying attention. The Tea Party has been splintered by infighting, disagreements about its nature, and lack of a clear leader. The Keg Party will have no such problems, however, because I am the one and only leader and I make all the rules. If you disagree with me I will simply close my eyes, cover my ears, and make silly noises to drown out anything you say to me. Eventually you will get frustrated, call me names I’ve heard many times before, and simply go away. Being the self-appointed leader and rule maker, I suppose I should make up a mission statement and a few rules. So here they are, The Captain’s Keg Party Mission Statement and assortment of Random Rules!

The Keg Party Mission: Our aim is to ensure that there is a frosty cold Keg of Beer in every American Garage and to bring manufacturing jobs back to America by lobbying for the construction of Beer Tap factories so that aimless youth who loiter in our garages have some money in their pockets to chip in a few bucks for Doritos.

The Random Rules

· No political discussions allowed! Anyone caught talking about Healthcare reform will be made to do a 30 second kegstand.

· Never over pump the tap. This is the one and only circumstance in the entire universe when too much head is a bad thing.

· If you fill a pitcher from the Keg, you are responsible for making sure all of it is consumed and no beer is wasted so that others can get and stay wasted.

· Never play beer pong with someone who travels with an engraved mahogany paddle.

· Keeping your shirt on is highly discouraged.

· Once a Keg is tapped, the party may not end until the bastard is killed.

· Silly beer hats and beer holsters are acceptable attire. Keeping your shirt on is highly discouraged.

· You are forbidden from napping on train tracks or on the edge of rocky precipices.

· Other stimulants may be used in conjunction with alcohol and keeping your shirt on is highly discouraged.

· A plastic beer cup is never an acceptable ash tray.

· There are no such things as beer sluts, just friendly female guests who do not have to be reminded that keeping their shirts on is highly discouraged - these girls are often so friendly that they apply this rule to any and all articles of clothing.

· Any purported Keg Partier who is caught handing out political pamphlets in my garage will be exposed as a fraud and be asked to drink or vacate the premises; authentic Keg Partiers will then take those pamphlets and make paper airplanes out of them and start throwing them at each other and no one, not even Mom, will scold anyone about putting someone’s eye out.

Believe The Captain when he says: Fuzzy Duck

Yours funneling my creative juices,


The Captain

The Positive Influence of The Keg Party on Aimless Youth

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Battle of the Swim Bitch Moms

We’ve all heard the stories about the rivalries between Hockey Moms, and how from time to time, the spectator competition mimics the on ice festivities and bitch slapping and high sticking and low hissing and skin scratching ensues. It is, as the NHL will secretly admit, part of the show. But riding the bus this morning, The Captain had ringside seats to a subtle but equally nasty confrontation between “Swim Moms.” Rather than give a straightforward description of the action (when is The Captain ever straightforward?), I will recreate the literal dialogue and interpret the dramatic conflagration hidden just beneath the surface of this icy episode (fire and ice! Yes, this is another one of those pretentiously cryptic expressions I’m so fond of writing; but I never know if anyone gets them or if it’s just me taking bizarre, incomprehensible and desperate stabs at cleverness – don’t answer, that’s a rhetorical question – so I am going to be explicit. A conflagration is a destructive fire or a conflict, so placing this word in the same sentence with the adjective “icy” creates the “fire and ice” referenced above. This is an 88 word parenthetical, by the way!) So now I skate mercifully on to the task at hand: the Battle of the Swim Bitch Moms!

Swim Bitch Mom # 1 (SBM1 for short)
Swim Bitch Mom # 2 (SBM2 for short)
The Captain’s commentary in Red

SBM1: So how did your daughter’s team do at the weekend tournament? Our team won nearly all of the events. I think only Farmington beat us.
In other words, “We kicked fuckin’ ass. Yeah we’re good!”

SBM2: Oh, we actually beat Farmington.
Meaning “I’ll bring you down to earth you self-important bitch.”

SBM1: (With a look of incredulity on her face) Really? I didn’t see that in the tournament results they published online.
“Right back at you, you lying blowfish.”

SBM2: (A nearly imperceptible glare passes over her face) So is Carly going to the swim camp again this summer? My daughter isn’t sure she can make either week; she may not be back from Europe. We may have to hire a private instructor again.
“Stick that up your pauper ass!”

SBM1: It’s more than two weeks, I’m pretty sure. She ought to be able to find a time slot that works.
Or put another way: “You don’t even know what the f*ck you’re talking about; I know it’s more than two weeks. I bet you’re making it up about Europe you lying sack of shit.”

SBM2: (Obvious glare accentuated by pregnant pause) Oh, that’s good news. Then she can go for two weeks in the weekend program. I know it costs more but Sherry thinks it gives her a competitive advantage. (Already knowing the answer to her question) Did Carly do the weekend program last year?
Translation: “You guys don’t have the money, do you? Too bad, ‘cause Carly’s fat little ass can use the extra work.”

SBM1: She decided not to do it last summer; she wanted to spend time with her friends. She spends the rest of the year swimming. She won quite a few medals this year, so she thought she should take a break and recharge her batteries.
In other words: “Your daughter has little swimming talent and no friends, which is not surprising with a raging bitch for a mother.

SBM2: And her coach is OK with that? Sherry’s coach makes it mandatory.
Meaning “You lack the necessary commitment to be a true Swim Mom. I don’t really care that my daughter stinks and cries herself to sleep at night because she is afraid of the water; I’ll do what I need to do as a parent to guarantee her a spot on the team, including hosting parties you can only dream of affording.”

SBM1: No, our coach decided to give the girls a break since we won the championship.
To paraphrase: “Your daughter still sucks.”

SBM2: Oh well. I have to return all of those new high-tech full body swim suits I bought for Sherry’s team; apparently, because other teams can’t afford to buy them, we aren’t allowed to use them – (laughing bitterly) they said it gives us an unfair competitive advantage.
Meaning “I’m still rich and you’re not.”

SBM1: Oh, didn’t they cause some controversy at the last Olympics? But I suppose talent will still win out. Did the suit really help Sherry with her times?
Which is something like “Those things are for talentless cheaters. And no suit is gonna change the fact that your daughter swims like an arthritic guppy missing a fin.”

SBM2: (Glaring) Gotta take this call.
Or “This conversation is so over.”

Believe The Captain when he says: Stay out of the pool!!

Yours putting on my life jacket, or is that a flak jacket?


The Captain

Myrmidon

About Me

To quote the amazing Frank Turner: "I won't sit down. I won't shut up. And most of all, I will not grow up!" That's an apt description of me. If you disagree, please refer to the above quote.

Fire Safety Advice et al. - but mostly et al. Email your question or comment to thefloorcaptain@gmail.com