I am in love with a girl.
Not that girl. Er, well . . . yeah, I *am* in love with that girl, but that's different. That was love at first sight. My new lady love was a little bit different. When I first saw her, my thought process went, "What the f . . . you have to be kidding me. What the hell? Why? Whu? Will I get caught if I stab her?"
But then I walked around for a few moments and pondered things further. A little careful consideration made me realize that I had truly encountered the girl of my dreams. There is so much potential for us to have a lifetime of fun, especially when holidays roll around.
Please say "Hello" to my new lady love.
Her name is Dora the Latina Whore, but you may call her OMG That's a Huge Freakin Dora.
I want her. In my front yard. BAD.
Here's the problem. OMG That's a Huge Freakin Dora lives at KMart. Yes, KMart. I go there something like twice per year, and I just so happened to walk in while they were trying to pretend it's 2006 and Dora is still cool. She's some sort of prop for some blahblahblah promotion. In other words, she's not for sale.
This is devestating.
I NEED that Dora. You see, I feel that she would be a most excellent addition to the massive amounts of awesome that I like to put in our front yard for the holidays. I would LOVE to slap a costume on her for Halloween and watch as the little kids all go running in fear. What's scarier than a 5' 6" blow up Dora? NOTHING.
And Christmas? OH MY HELLSY BELLSY! I could have sooooo much fun with the giant Latina Whore. It would involve Christmas lights and jingle bells and maybe some really big thong underwear and my brain just exploded from picturing all the fun I could have.
The G-20 is currently in Pittsburgh. That means downtown and the surrounding areas look pretty much like this:
So what I might be saying is that the authorities who would normally be responsible for making sure that Dora the Latina Whore is kept safe and sound are just a wee bit busy right now. It's very understandable that they are ensuring the health and safety of 20 world leaders and the entire city and not fussing over an inflatable Whore, right?
So, if I were to be encouraging criminal behavior, I might suggest that now would be an excellent time for a little Dora-napping plot. Y'all just have to distract the employees at KMart while I stick a nail in OMG That's a Really Freakin Huge Dora's behind. She'll go flat, some KMart employees will deem her not worthy of their time, and when she gets tossed in the trash? I'll be there. I'll fix the hole in her butt and then Dora and I will be bestest holiday friends forever and ever (that's abbreviated BHFFE, just so you know).
And GO! Let's get OMG That's a Really Freakin Huge Dora!
I've never been a princess sort of chick. This is a shocking revelation, I know. I'm sure everyone pictures me sitting atop my throne adorned in a fluffy pink gown and adjusting my crown as I shout out blog posts to my man-servants. Sadly, I actually have to stoop to typing them myself, usually dressed in ratty old flannel pajamas. It's a sad, sad existence.
Because Karma works in amazing ways, I of course gave birth to one of those kids who would have a giant pink princess tutu surgically attached to her waist if she could find a doctor willing to perform the procedure. The kid eats, breaths, and sweats princess love. It's a sad, sad existence.
Because Karma is such a bitch, I have spent the past year or so fully immersed in the Princess Universe. We've got gowns. We've got dolls. We've got books.
Of course we have books. The Princess Wanna-Be is a giant bookworm.
Somewhere along the line, I bought this book:
I ain't gonna lie--I'd never read the story of Sleeping Beauty (also referred to as "Sleeping Cutey"--that's what Alexis calls it). I knew the premise, but I'd never actually read the words, nor had I seen the movie (I'm just full of shocking news tonight!).
Either this particular version of Sleeping Beauty is all sort of whacked, or the original story is all sorts of whacked. First you've got the king and queen selling their newborn off to the highest bidder. Sure! Why not arrange for your kid to get married just as soon as she's born? Make sure it's to a kid who is considerably older than her, and make sure she gets married the very second she's old enough to drive a car. Genius!
Then the whole curse thing goes down and the king and queen decide it makes sense to send the newborn off with a bunch of old cat ladies. OK, so I don't know if they fairies had 17 cats each, but I bet they did. I mean, they are old and single and living together and, well . . . LOOK AT THEM.
Once the fairies kidnap the kid, the evil fairy starts talking to her pet raven. I support this subplot. It's never to early to teach kids that the Ravens are evil. (Please tell me at least one person gets that. Bueller? Baltimore? Ravens? Evil? Bueller?)
Blah, blah, blah. Sixteen years pass and somehow the prince and his arranged-bride-to-be manage to "accidentally" run into each other in the woods. He doesn't know her. She doesn't know him. She knows her fairy kidnappers don't think she should talk to strangers, so what does she do? She invites him to her house. Genius!
Can you see that? Those words? "But when the prince asked her name, Briar Rose remembered that the fairies had told her to never talk to strangers. When it was time for Briar Rose to go, she invited him to visit her cottage that evening."
I don't even know how the book ends. When I read those lines to Alexis, I had to start making crap up so that the moral of the story was to never-ever invite a boy to your house because really bad things involving violent toads and the maiming of Zac Efron will happen.