Up until now, I thought it was a sports trophy for hockey or rugby or sailing or professional squatting. Something like that – one of those sports that you only watch when the other choice is Unbelievable Kitchen Gadgets in 3 Easy Payments: the sequel.
I’m beginning to believe I could really be one of the cool kids if I could just invest in a really tall cup to match my yoga pants. Tall! Taller than the Starbucks tall (which is pretty much only tall if you’re Danny DeVito sitting down). This cup? You could swim in the thing, or as the French say, faire de le natation. (Sidenote: This is why the French are in trouble when they have to yell “I can’t swim!” before someone knows to rescue them.)
When I see a cup that size, I’m pretty impressed, and the first thing I want to blurt out is, “Whoa! How big is your bladder?” But what I say instead is, “Nice cup.” And in answer they always say the same thing.
“It fits in your cupholder.” The cup. Not the bladder.
The second thing they point out is, “It has a handle.”
Well, that’s pretty embarrassing. For six years, I’ve carried the same insulated cup around, given to me at a women’s event in Texas, and it doesn’t even have a handle.
I don’t know if the Stanley cup is a fad or not. There are always the unbelievers out there. My aunt struts around saying, “Nobody needs to pay good money for something to drink out of. You can get 28 Solo cups for $2.99, and that’s the sensible thing to do.” Or as the French say, les senserables.
Who even decided that? Who came up with the round number of 28 cups for a package? Is that a standard party number? “It’s just gonna be me and 27 of my closest friends this weekend. Better go out and buy a pack of Solo cups.” Or as the French say, coupe de solorables.
I think the cup wars have pretty much been going on since Esau talked Jacob out of a cup of pottage, with a handle, and perfectly fit it in the cupholder as he rode away on his camel, or as the French say, le humpacion backneit.
Our parents even had a little guacamole colored plastic cup with a handle, that they actually put a snowcone-of-a-cup thing in the inside of that cup. You replaced the snow cone thingy each time, but kept your ugly plastic guy. It was the only cool way to down your Folger’s in those days.
I just want you to know I won’t judge you on your cup. You can have the stainless steel ectomorph cup or the free plastic thing the bank gives you for only the 250 dollars it takes to open an account. You can still be cool to me if you drink straight from the water spout..
Or as the deep southern French say, hosepipe.
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