Malingering’s World

What better place to show off your boob hicky than at Viva Los Dodgers?

Every year since 1997, Dodger Stadium hosts the Viva Los Dodgers festival prior to the game. It is a celebration of the Latino community as well as a place to get a ton of free stuff. This was my first year in attendance, and of course I chose the year that it was 95 degrees outside. Good thinking.

This man was incredibly dedicated to collecting the free loot: insulated coffee mugs, t-shirts, lunch bags, soccer balls, hats, necklaces, foam fingers that were available that day. This task was less a scavenger hunt than a test of patience and will. There were lines which put the crowds in front of Dodgers concession stands to shame; people literally waited for hours in 95 degree heat under the glaring sun for a chance to spin the wheel of fate at the Farmer John booth to end up with a free soccer ball or lunch box.

Even the chance at a free Dodger foam finger couldn’t lure me into one of these time sucking vortices. It was hot enough that you expected satan to emerge at any moment welcoming us to his barbecue. I nearly melted.

This family was smart enough to bring grandpa in the wheelchair. Although the handicapped placard didn’t bump her to the front of the line, the wheelchair provided a place to hang all of the bags of freebies. Plus grandpa could hold their place in line while they went to the beer garden. Good thinking on that one.

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There was a ton of entertainment going on, of course I hadn’t heard of anyone and should be ashamed.

The headliner of the day was Gloria Trevi. Since I am a social outcast and out of touch with reality so far as to not even listen to the radio, I have no idea who this woman is. I can tell you a few things: she’s not a great dancer, she’s not a great singer, she has a severe case of leopardsy and she wears her underwear on the outside of her pants.

Quite possibly the best moment of the entire day was when she sang the National Anthem before the ballgame. She was still wearing the leopardsy tights with gold sparkly cowboy boots, but had put a Dodger jersey on to cover up her camel toe. Her singing was so atrocious that Matt Kemp started giggling - right when they put his face up on Dodgervision. Of course then the entire crowd started giggling; fortunately for Gloria, one’s ability to perceive the reactions of others is markedly decreased in most cases of leopardsy, so she remained unaware of the situation.

Now this is why I attend festivals. It wasn’t for the free stuff, it wasn’t for the music, and it wasn’t to share the Dodger spirit. It was for this.

Free face painting!

Trying to figure out which unfortunate volunteer had to do this woman’s titties.

There was so little relief from this heat that people plunked themselves down and filled every inch of shade they could find. The Dodgers also provided misting fans (a.k.a. cool zones) which spray water at you and blow it around full force. This may have accounted for the veritable wet t-shirt contest that was going on in each corner.

All these years I thought Grimace had died from coronary artery disease. Of all the McDonald’s folk he seemed the most likely to be suffering from the adverse effects of poor nutrition and excessive amounts of trans-fats. You knew the Fry Guys wouldn’t have such a problem as they were always on speed and had no appetites, and Hamburlgar was in jail frequently enough that he was saved from super-sizing. I was happy to see Grimace alive and well, though at this point he’s probably on Lipitor and Plavix.

Unfortunately, the Hooters girls never made it to the Cool Zones and just fanned themselves with cardboard fans handed out by the radio station vans. The Hooters girls were there to hand out stickers that say “I HEART HOOTERS” to little 9 year old boys. It’s important we train them early so by puberty there is absolutely no question in their minds that females exist to be sex objects. Why leave room for doubt?

Viva Los Dodgers!

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