The La Jolla
The La Jolla

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The La Jolla

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La Jolla - a beautiful Southern California town cascading down a mountainside to the pristine beaches of the Pacific. A place where Ferraris prowl from coastal mansions to boutique-lined avenues, escorting their cargo to a midday bottle of Chablis. An area where the official dress code borrows heavily from the teachings of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and Rachel Zoe. It’s all very idyllic, refined, and…tormented.

You see, beneath all the gloss and glam, La Jolla has a serious problem. The prevalence of wildly wealthy medical professionals has turned La Jolla into a Disneyland for prescription drug abuse. An epidemic not seen since the crack cocaine explosion on the streets of Harlem in the 1980s, La Jolla’s situation is unique in that it’s not the teenage kids who are using. It’s their bored, unemployable mothers who wait for their children to go to school before holding impromptu “women’s groups” where they mix and match their prescriptions to find new and more exciting highs. Known by street names like “Sassy,” “Cackles,” and “Muffin Dog,” the women of La Jolla have come up with drug combinations that would make the chemists at Amgen blush.

By early afternoon, the town is a freak show of 35 to 65 year-old female zombies. Bright red lipstick smeared over their faces, they stumble from shop to shop, loudly pronouncing their disgust. Many a Sweet 16 party has been ruined when a sauced up mob of nipple-slipping mothers took to the dance floor and started freaking the 15-year-old boys. (One of the worst grievances came at Kimmie Singleton’s Sweet 16 when her mother exclaimed “No slut daughter of mine will drive a red car!” and promptly smashed the new BMW 3-series Mr. Singleton had presented to his daughter.) Despite the sometimes violent public outbursts, the community does its best to keep the whole affair very hush hush. It’s even rumored that the men of La Jolla keep a slush fund for the inevitable abuse charges coming from a Guatemalan “helper” on the wrong end of a housewife’s post-nap Vicodin low.

But there is hope for this tragic situation. Together with the kids of La Jolla who deal with these zombies on a daily basis, SweetBands developed The La Jolla band. Wearing this SweetBand tells the world that you’re not okay with being woken up at 2am the night before a test while your crying mother incoherently expresses her love for you and then admits to sleeping with the pool boy. It says you’re tired of the hair-pulling fights between mothers at high school water polo games. It silently and defiantly says you’ve almost been run over by a Benz SUV one too many times. The kids of La Jolla are sick of it and they’re taking their town back!

Whether prescription drug abuse among the 1% affects you or not, grab a La Jolla band and support the children of La Jolla in their noble cause. Maybe one day we can get back to a simpler place where infidelity and ignoring their children is the only thing the women of La Jolla could be faulted for.

For The Wingman always taking one for the team

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