I want to do an investigative piece on WAGs and all their ridiculous glory. Last week, my friend Nat invited me to the LA Galaxy game and the only thing I saw in my head? The word "WAG."
|Ready to WAG it out|
For those of you who aren't as obsessed as I am, WAGs = "Wives and girlfriends" of futbol players. Apparently these women are a death wish to get involved with because they're glorified groupies, and when the girlfriends upgrade to wife status, they request to never, ever be associated with the WAGs. Which makes no sense.
During the World Cup, the WAGs were (unofficially) banned from South Africa because they cause a major distraction to the men and spend absurd amounts of money, party all the time and take the focus off soccer and on sex. Every woman wants to be a WAG.
Listen, I'm not saying we should subject ourselves to groupie status, but WAG sounds way more refined than groupie. When I think groupie, I think of raunchy, hippy people who have terrible hygiene and STDs. WAGs (in my opinion) are probably pop stars or at least a woman who could instantly become a fashion icon.
I don't think a lot of WAGs know much about the game of soccer, but I'd like to redefine that characteristic and make WAGs an American staple. Where they attend every LA Galaxy game and know exactly what's going on with their excruciatingly hot boyfriend or husband, wear amazing clothes and probably get a little bit more than tipsy in the first half.
Anyway, obviously all I could talk about was how WAG it as going to be of us to be at this huge game against Manchester City. I think real WAGs would have been in a suite, protecting their precious skin and applying copious amounts of self tanner, but don't give me any lip... it's not like I'm actually dating anyone on the team. So I guess these seats would work just fine too:
I was expecting maniac fans, but as it turns out it's pretty low key in the Galaxy. I mean, it's Los Angeles, not the UK. There weren't a lot of drunken people acting a fool, mostly families and stuff. I got a really sexual sunburn (I'm looking superb) and got to see Mr. Beckham, a major highlight for obvious reasons. You shouldn't covet other people's husbands but FOR THE LOVE the man is just unreal. He was wearing long sleeves, which leads me to believe he's either a complete idiot, has delicate skin or likes the smell of his own stench... can't decide which. Eh, nobody's perfect I suppose.
To be honest, I'm not huge on soccer. Not that I didn't enjoy it, I just don't know a lot about it. But it was really exciting to watch. No timeouts or any of that crap... you have to have some serious athletic prowess to be on the field. I admire that. And apparently the penalty shots we got to watch at the end were not the usual? I don't know how these things work. But it was riveting. Ultimately Manchester City won after four fun-filled hours.
Just another fun luxury of living in LA! It was my first pro soccer game and perhaps I'll take a trip overseas and watch one there... perhaps get my WAG card. Who knows!