snoburbia, the blog

it’s pronounced “bouquet”

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People in snoburbia feel it is their right – and in fact, their duty – to point out transgressions in socially-acceptable behavior. Last week, I was singing along happily to my Dixie Chicks CD in my car, waiting for my child to come out of school in two or three minutes.

A man walked up to my window and said, “Excuse me – I’m just curious… Why do you keep your car running while you are waiting?” He then told me that in his native Sweden, people are more environmentally-conscious than are Americans. I took away from this that he was not “just curious.”

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And yesterday, my husband and son rode their bikes to the grocery store (environmentally-conscious, no?) At the stoplight, a man leaned out his window and said, “What? No helmets?”

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our supreme leader

The drop-down menu from the Request Information form of the overclass Madeira School in McLean, a Virginia snoburb near Washington, D.C.:

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wine and hummus

 

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I’m invited to a party this weekend and wondering, which type of hummus should I bring? If you live in the snoburbs, this is the only food you are allowed to bring to a party.

I had a big party a few years ago, and five or six people brought hummus, most of which sat untouched. Rather, people gobbled up the working-class potato chips and chocolate chip cookies. The deviled eggs were gone in minutes.

I also noticed that almost everybody brought wine – but drank beer. I was left with a case of wine afterward, but had to make a beer run mid-party.

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tweet nothings

 

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From the blog, Manifest Destiny, about politicians’ embrace of time-wasting, superficial Twitter:

 ... that is so convincingly fake-democratic while actually just facilitating communication with rich, Apple-computer-owning white people like myself.

Or its use by journalists “as a means for personal marketing:”

 I’d say the median journotweet is something like “getting ready to sit down for an i/v w @spalin. the lady is a tough cookie!” when in fact it should be closer to “complaining abt blogs in line to pick up kids @ sidwell frnds. no poor people around!”

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My favorite April Fools’ Day joke was about the UK’s Guardian newspaper going all Twitter .

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we band of snack providers

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In snoburbia, it’s good to let teachers know how important you, er, they are. This is best done through the provision of superior snacks. I once tried to sign up to bring in snacks for the teachers’ lounge, but the slots were filled faster than for a Ticketmaster event.

From a recent PTA bulletin at a snoburban middle school:

There are approximately 75-90 to accommodate... Do what you can though and don't panic if it's not an elaborate catered affair. At various times I've brought a variety of things: bagels, cream cheese, muffins, cheese, crackers, fruit and munchies. Do what feels right...

Competitive snacks and the follow-up thank yous on the listserv are part of the elaborate thanking rituals in snoburbia.

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through the looking-glass

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Excerpted from the homepage of a Facebook group for overclass Fairfield County, Connecticut:

You Know You Are From Fairfield County, Connecticut When…

• Your family owns more than one house
• The cars in your high school’s parking lot were worth more than your high school
• You don’t have an accent
• You have more than one country club in your town
• You think Bridgeport is the worst ghetto you’ve ever seen
• You consider Fairfield County and the rest of Connecticut two different states
• Anybody asks, you’re from just outside of New York

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jennifer and jason don’t live here anymore

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In the snoburbs, people do not name their children Teagan and Kaylie.

It’s Henry, Aidan, Oliver, and Ethan for boys. For girls, a rash of Lilys, Abigails, Lucys and Charlottes. If you throw a rock at any elementary school in snoburbia, you’ll hit an Emma or a Connor. Or some parents take a chance at behind-their-backs talk and come up with a name that is all their own, like Bay, Stoney, or Scooter (à la Gwyneth Paltrow’s Apple and Moses.)

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Favorite baby-name quote: From the movie Baby Mama, Tina Fey’s character overhears a mom telling her kids, “Rumy and Cheyenne! It’s time for a play-date with Banjo and Wingspan.”

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junior kindergarten

 

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A woman I met recounted how, when she was four years old, she attended a junior kindergarten class at an overclass private school in Washington, D.C., for one day, as a trial.  The head of school told her mother, “Your child is a subversive influence,” and said the child might not be accepted. The woman relaying the anecdote took great pride in that statement years later.

Of course, this story was a quick way of letting me know – within minutes of meeting her – that she went to the kinds of schools that have a “head of school,” and call preschool, “junior kindergarten.” You know – the ones that don’t accept all comers.

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panic in snoburbia: bikini season approaching

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Yesterday, I saw a middle-aged woman running and talking on a cell phone while running. I understand why she can’t stop. She is motivated by pure fear. You see, in the snoburbs, you have to look 28 when you are 48 at your swim club on Memorial Day.

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Twice in the last month, I’ve seen magazine covers showing 48-year-olds with bikini bodies, first Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and now Valerie Bertinelli.

Time to panic.

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i will not pop an artery

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It’s the start of soccer season – a big deal in snoburbia. In a Division I travel soccer team in a nearby snoburb, all parents must sign a Parents’ Code of Conduct:

• I will place the emotional and physical well-being of my child ahead of any personal desire to win.
• I will encourage good sportsmanship by demonstrating positive support for all players, coaches and officials at every game...
• I will do my best to make youth sports fun for my child.
• I will remember that the game is for children and not for adults.

But, but! …. My son’s future college soccer scholarship could depend on this very game! Lives hang in the balance!

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the insiders

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From a Wall Street Journal review of Ross Douthat’s book, Privilege, Harvard and the Education of the Ruling Class:

[H]e imagined that the Ivy League would be a refuge where his intellectual talents would finally be appreciated. He is appalled to find that the Groton boys stick together, women still love athletes and the in-crowd is still off-limits.

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