Same old thing as yesterday.
Thanks, Sting, I knew you’d understand. It’s raining today. I live in Texas, which being the size of about half the rest of the United States (we exaggerate sometimes here) has several of its own climates. The one I have is semi-arid which means mostly desert except when the weather feels like throwing stupid stuff your way. Like rain and snow. I don’t really like either of these, unless the snow is so significant it cancels work and school. Then snow is like, my pal.
Fun fact: There are more suicides in Seattle,Washington than in Alaska cause light bounces off of snow, but rain is just gray and dreary. There’s a source for this, but I’m not looking it up.
It’s raining right now. Everyone is supposed to be happy about this because sometimes we are so dry a loose spark can set off massive dry grass explosions. But it messes with my asthma and my depression – a double combo so to speak. I cough and I’m bummed. And I can be bummed when it is bright and sunny (how dare it be bright and sunny?) so I don’t need actual dreary. I don’t think I’m the only one who dislikes rain. I’m pretty sure rain is at least partly why England was off conquering other nations once upon a time. They didn’t want to be at home.
There’s even a song about rain everyone knows. “Rain, rain, go away.”
“Rain, rain, go away
Come again some other day.” (like never)
I learned it as a kid, and I remembered there were some whack lyrics about an old man in a coma, but I wasn’t sure what they were so I actually researched some for this one. According to my authentic source, Wikipedia, the modern English song dates back to the 17th century when James Howell wrote “Raine raine goe to Spain: faire weather come againe.” I like this version. Hey, bad weather, go to Spain. We hate those guys. I wish my rain to go to political conventions. Either party. Please do so when the candidates are out there speaking. I’d love to see the Donald’s hair piece wash away.
But the Wikipedia article didn’t touch on the old dude, so I had to do more searching. I found an educational site that, predictably, screwed up the lyrics making it “Rain, rain go away, Mommy / Daddy / Sister / the dog / Donald Trump wants to play” but that was lame and not the real song at all. Boo. I had to add in “the old man is snoring” to get a positive result. Turns out the song can be called “It’s Raining, It’s Pouring” as well as “Rain, Rain, Go Away.” So here is the version they didn’t make PC for today’s children, but which was perfectly fine for me to learn.
The old man is snoring.
He bumped his head
When he went to bed
And he couldn’t get up in the morning
Cue the chorus “Rain, rain go away.” Just – wait, what? I always wondered about that part. I mean, what the heck does a snoring old man who gets a concussion and is now in a coma have to do with rain? Why put this in a song for kids? Were we not traumatized enough by the mutilation of the three blind mice? Well, I say traumatized, but we were kids and took great delight in singing about chopping off rodent tails and unconscious old dudes in comas – who are lying in the rain? But kids are evil. As adults we should be wondering – who is this old guy and won’t someone shut off the camera and go get him medical attention?
Unless it’s foul play. Now I can believe hitting your head on the headboard of your bed hard enough to cause a concussion because I routinely smack my head and other body parts into things on accident. But while I’m no doctor, I think you really shouldn’t go back to sleep after this. Unless someone MADE you. Like say a disgruntled wife who was bugged by her snoring husband so hit him in the head when he went to bed so that he couldn’t get up in the morning. Consciousness go away, come again another day . . .
It should be noted that I found the real lyrics on another teaching site that advises teachers after singing the first part to ask the kids to put their names into the song. “Blah blah old man dead, rain, rain go away, little (Madison, Madisyn, Maddisson) wants to play.” Yes, let’s put our names into a song about an unfortunate old dude. Sounds fun to me! Go on, little (Brayden, Britin, Braxton) sing! It’s fun!
And we wonder why our children grow up to be stuff like serial killers and politicians. But I digress. It’s raining here and the water is seeping under my house where wood will probably rot and suck us into a giant hole one day. Maybe I could make a song about it?
As this post was inspired partly by Merbear’s inspirational Annie post, I feel I should give her credit here while stealing the cartoon she found.
Have a nice day, rain or shine. And pay no attention to Eddie Rabbit, who “loves a rainy night”. He clearly never heard of that poor old guy.
More late breaking news you guys, brought to you again by Facebook, my only source of news save a couple of bloggers who have been letting me know about stuff like the Republican presidential debates, led by Trump, who from brief glimpses at the TV, appears to be arguing with himself. I have not heard yet on the last one from Speaker 7 or List of X, so let us hope they decided to ignore this and are not still in drunken benders trying to forget it.
But right, back to my news. Before I told you guys about Alyssa Milano’s magical pumped breastmilk and how she was really angry that it was not allowed on the plane with the rest the milk that was still stored in her regular boobs. No word on whether airlines will start measuring the amount of liquid in boobs or other organs next. I guess that all depends on whether a terrorist manages to do something really amazing with it first. I’m sure Facebook will keep me informed.
Alyssa is still in the news, yammering about how people won’t accept women breastfeeding, thus giving her excuse to publish lots of pictures of herself breastfeeding. Speaking of pictures, this next piece of news is about selfies! No, not selfies of Kermit with his new girlfriend. Though I also told you guys, via Facebook news, that Kermit and Miss Piggy had broken up, even though no one knew they were together, and they are both puppets. His new girlfriend is also a pig, in case you were wondering. And Kim Davis has already announced that she will not issue them a marriage license.
And before that we had a 100 year old man kill his wife with an ax and a senior citizen having quadruplets (they weren’t related to each other – I don’t think) so you may be wondering – what next, Alice? Here’s a hint.
Yup, this piece is about a report – yes an actual report – that says that more people were killed taking selfies (like the one above taken by a guy running from BULLS who survived but is in big trouble for making this, like, more dangerous?) than were killed in shark attacks in 2015. Several reputable internet news sources have picked up on this, including Yahoo News, but the story I chose comes from Mashable. According to Mashable, the dude who slipped off the Taj Mahal while taking a selfie (not American this time) was the 12th selfie related death this year. In comparison, there have been only 8 deaths from sharks.
This made me wonder a few things. For one, how did they come up with the comparison? They are fairly different things. A selfie is a self-absorbed way for a person to take a picture, whereas sharks are sea animals with big, sharp teeth who rarely ever take photographs (they are reportedly shy). Would you compare these two any other way? For instance: Tourists like to take selfies. Sharks like to eat tourists. How many selfies can a tourist on a beach five miles from the ocean take before a shark traveling 60 miles per hour can eat them? Show your work.
I wouldn’t be surprised if one of those shark related deaths came from someone trying to take a selfie while riding a shark. Or jumping over one on water skis.
Anyone (or their *cough* friend) ever taken a selfie while doing something stupid? Anyone willing to admit it? Let me know in the comments below!
Thing One is an actress, you guyz. She is a freshman this year (how did she go from second grade to that – no matter) and is playing a Folly girl in the high schools’ grand musical comedy production “Crazy for You.” I had never heard of this musical before, but I knew the songs, and now they are stuck in my head. “I’ve got rhythm, I’ve got music, I’ve got a migraine, who could ask for anything more?” Still, it’s her drama teacher who is to be admired. He gets to hear the songs over and over and over and try to get high school students to stop texting and making out (Thing One will point out that she does not do either of these things, partly because she has no phone) long enough to learn lines, songs, and dances. He’s been doing it since my older brother was in high school, so his brain is probably permanently damaged by now, which makes him the perfect one for the job.
Thing One is playing a Folly girl, like from the Ziegfeld Follies. I’d heard of them, but vaguely, so we decided to look it up on Youtube. And wow – we learned a lot. Stuff you really can’t unlearn. First we found a clip about Ziegfeld Follies from another musical comedy (you’ll soon see why “comedy” so often comes up when speaking of these guys), the 1946 film appropriately titled “Ziegfeld Follies.” You’ve got everything here guys. Fred Astaire, dancing girls with 6 ft tall fluffy boa hats, an enormous merry-go-round with real horses, a set that was thrown up on by a giant bottle of Pepto-Bismol, a dead serious Lucille Ball cracking a whip over chorus girls, who could ask for anything more?
The Things and I watched it once, scarred for life, then watched it again to make sure we had really just seen that. Here’s a few screen shots.
Here’s the whole clip for you to watch! Put to music it’s even better!
WTF? I mean seriously – what was that??? I thought you couldn’t get more bizarre than that horrific pink carousel of mid-rif showing, boa covered girls standing on top of actual freaking horses (how many times did they have to rehearse that scene? I could see some issues with the horses.) And then comes Lucy looking like she just completed brain surgery. And then comes the whip. And then the cat girls. And the whipping. And the fingernails. And . . . that was not a Lady Gaga video, you guys, she just wishes she could be this innovative.
But this was a comedy film, so they weren’t seriously that weird right? We watched a clip of a PBS (the ones who made Sesame Street) documentary on the Follies to find out.
I love how the PBS commentator (a guy of course) reflects that it was all very innocent and American! We’re talking 1907 through 1936 here. This is why knowing history is oh so important. We’re repeating it now, only we are much more boring about it.
So my Thing One is going to be a folly girl! I can’t wait to see her costume. I hope it has a giant pink feather boa hat.
You may remember that once upon a time I made up some anti-awards to combat the approximately 5 billion well-intended but also incredibly annoying WordPress awards that were being passed around (for example: The Sunshine Award, The Chainmail Award, and the Visit My Blog Award). There was a time when you could get six or seven of these a day! And I wasn’t even that popular. I can only imagine what real bloggers got.
I came back with stuff like the Fruitcake Award (passed around but totally useless), and the much more useful Creeper Award. Because everyone knows a creeper.
Speaking of creepers, lately I’ve been seeing these memes posted up on Facebook. This has been going on for a while now, but sometimes this is done by my friends with good intentions, and my black hole of a mind just can’t help but immediately think of a smart-alack response. For example, this morning my good friend posted the following meme.
Do I love my kids? Of course I do. But there are so many problems with this! First off, what if I don’t share this? Does lack of sharing mean I don’t love my daughters? For another thing, I have two daughters, not one, so do I need to add an “s” to the end or is that already implied? Or should I simply favor one over the other? “I love you, but not you, only so much love kid.” Also you have to ask – are children always blessings? Because sometimes they smart off to you, or worse, your husband by repeating verbatim what the slightly negative thing you said about him last night.
So I came up with my own meme, because the sarcasm is so great in me, and I just can’t let this go.
There are other memes that annoy me, like the happy clappy ones because why should other people be happy, huh? That’s obnoxious. Tone it down. Also annoying are the DEEP THOUGHTS ones. Here’s an example I found.
The picture is all pretty and everything, but a little disturbing because when I see any kind of bridge, pier, or whatever, I think “jump” because I’m me. I also ask questions. How deep is that water? Are there jellyfish? Or sharks? Is the water polluted? You just don’t know.
I’m pretty bad at collecting moments, too. I can’t save time in a bottle either. But I am really good at collecting things. Important things. Like boards I broke off from that pier. Watch your step.
I don’t want to rain on anyone’s daughter, but this is just how I am. If the memes make you feel better, then great! To each his own. But I will continue to like ones like this.
Have you ever had trouble falling asleep? Have you ever woken up earlier than you wanted? Do you have that dream where you can’t find a private bathroom? Are you a human? Of course! But you are in luck, because I, Alice, have discovered the cure for insomnia using scientific methods based on reading scholarly articles from Pop Psychology Now. To prove my qualifications I will throw on a doctor’s white jacket and list all the letters after my name.
Dr. Alice Hatter BA MA MLS MD VIP HBO ‘SUP
So there you have it! But hey, you are wanting to know the secret to a good night’s sleep, heck you have been up all night long wanting to know the secret. So I’m going to tell you. But in order to more firmly convince you that I am legit, I have to admit that I once had a problem with insomnia as well. And wow, did I. Let me tell you how I deal with this dreaded monster insomnia.
Popular knowledge says that you should not lay in bed too long thinking “Sleep Sleep Sleep Sleep OMGGGG SLEEEEP” because then your bed becomes an uninviting place. I highly doubt that knowledge because I am able to sleep splendidly. Granted this is during the day because I have the sleep cycle of a cat. Being awake at night really stinks because there is no one to talk to, and people do not especially like being woken up from a sound sleep. I remember clearly how much I did not like it when my children were babies and woke me up repeatedly night after night, because babies are jerks. My husband is gifted with an on / off switch that allows him to flip the switch every night and go instantly to sleep. I love this man dearly. But that makes me want to hit him with a hammer.
After I get tired of pleading with my brain to sleep, I get up and go to the living room where I watch T.V. Now other so-called experts will say it is not a good idea to turn on a T.V. or a computer (like I am typing on now at 11:15 P.M.) because that causes your cicada rhythms to get mixed up and makes you more awake. I didn’t know cicadas had rhythm, but man those things can keep you up because they are even noisier than crickets. At least they don’t get in the house like crickets with their incessant chirping “Hey baby, get out of my dreams and into the shoe I’m hiding in right now.” They are too stupid to realize that there probably aren’t female crickets in the house, and if there were, they would be wanting to hit them with a hammer.
Anyway, I watched T.V. the other night, and I found an informerical. Salesmen have decided that insomniacs are a perfect target for products so awesome that they go completely insane, nearly wetting themselves, in anticipation of marketing them to us. The infomercial I watched was about wrinkle cream, specifically made for crepey skin. Do you not know what crepey skin is? Congrats I will tell you now! “Crepey” comes from crepe paper, you know that thin, rough paper stuff you toss around to be festive. Now imagine your skin looking like that, only without the pretty colors, draped from the ceiling! Cool, huh? I wasn’t disgusted by this in the least! Even the word is delightful. Crepe, crepe, crepe.
This product was endorsed by a doctor – of what I’m not certain, but she had that frozen grin that says I have given away all my integrity for cash.
Did you hear that? Seriously groundbreaking, like seriously™. But nevermind that stupid doctor, we’ve got Jane Seymour endorsing it! No, not the one who married Henry VIII, the actress that was on Dr. Quinn, Medicine Babe (she played a doctor!) who lived on the prairie with this hot guy who had hung with the Indians and was hot. Jane is 64 now, yet still looks fab, and it’s all thanks to Trufirm Crepe Erase™. I’m sure her appearance has nothing to do with (A) plastic surgery, (B) winning the genetic lottery, 0r (C) plastic surgery.
Crepe Erase™ – seriously guys do not steal this name – is special because it has natural products in it like shea butter, rejuvenating extracts (vanilla and tree sap), and dried acorns. It restores collagen (that’s the plumping stuff in your skin that keeps you from looking like an old crone) through an ancient Chinese secret and then you look 30 years younger. You get two products, an exfoliating body scrub designed to relieve you of your pesky skin, and the Intensive Body Repair Treatment, all for just 39.95 per month plus shipping and handling! As a free gift, you get eye cream, cause man your eyes look super gross. Please wear sunglasses.
It’s not just Jane endorsing this, no, we’ve also got Dorothy Hamill, former ice skater, and if you can’t trust an actress and an ice skater, who can you trust? Why, Jane even frolicked on the beach in her bikini, which wasn’t at all obnoxious.
So there you go! Oh, wait, I didn’t get to the cure for insomnia yet, did I? Well, join me next time and I’m sure I’ll have more fabulous ideas for you. Even now I am coming up with Consciousness Erase™, designed to knock you out in seconds! One of the key ingredients is a hammer.
Any of you dealing with insomnia? Anybody click on this link thinking you’d find useful information? Let me know in the comments below!
Breaking news! The Things and I just happened to catch the Seven Dwarfs at the mall yesterday (It could happen). And they volunteered to be interviewed! Well most of them did – Grumpy had to be restrained. But it was all worth it, cause now we can let you see into the minds of the real stars of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs – the dwarfs of course. What do they dig them jewels for? What the heck is wrong with Dopey? Why is Bashful, you know, Bashful? What ticks Grumpy off the most? Why are they still in the same bachelor pad after all these years? How have they adjusted to modern times? So many questions. Let’s get some answers.
Warning: This will ruin your childhood and possibly scar you for life. (Click to enlarge pictures)
The dwarfs each had special shops in mind, but were nice enough to wait. Mostly. First we spoke to Sneezy, while trying to avoid his mucus.
Next we spoke to Grumpy. Or rather he spoke to us.
Let’s check in with Sleepy while he’s still awake.
Let’s check in with old, reliable Doc.
Well, there’s that lovable Bashful.
Let’s talk to Happy. I could use some happy. But – what happened to his hands?
Okay, one last dwarf. Thank freaking Disney-goodness. Dopey. Aw, what could be wrong with Dopey, fan favorite?
Wow. Okay so I think that answered all my questions and then some, boys and girls! I need to get hold of some of that memory soap and see if I can reach my brain.
Any other Disney characters you’d like to peer into the minds of? I didn’t think so.
My family has been recently adopted by two stray cats. It started with one (it always starts with just one), a lovely Calico who we think was abandoned by her family since she came to us so well groomed. Or maybe she still has the family, and she just keeps getting hand-outs from everyone (cats abuse the system too, guyz) but she’s fairly thin, so maybe not. That’s what I tell myself, because there’s nothing worse than being conned by a freaking cat. Except maybe being conned by two freaking cats.
Thing Two named the Calico Hazel and gave me those big sad eyes that orphans do in Oliver Twist. Since she was able to talk, she’s wanted a pet, so thus the circle of life continues and I am paying with major karma for my years of begging for a cat as a kid. The fact that my mother was terribly allergic to them came secondary in my child mind to “I want a cat.” It pretty much works the same with Thing Two. So we figured we’d have an outdoor kitty, and bought cheap cat food at the evil Wal-Mart and bang, we had a cat. Thing Two likes to pick Hazel up and get her to make cat noises like one of those cow toys that moo when you tip them over. Hazel puts up with this because you can’t beat free food.
All was well until word got out in the cat world of our gullibility and another cat showed up. She was pretty, and unlike Hazel who pretty much just meows (translation: I will take my food now, puny human), she had the added gift of constantly rubbing up against your legs and staring up at you with puppy eyes, and then rubbing up against you again. You can’t get away, she just follows you and loves you. To death. This was great for the girls, but not so great for me as I am now allergic to cats, and lots of cat hair on my clothes does not appeal to me. I couldn’t figure out why the new cat, named Willow by Thing Two, kept coming back.
“I mean we don’t feed her,” I said to the girls.
Thing One: Well sometimes I give her a little handful. She’s nursing kittens!
Thing Two: I give her food when I give Hazel food.
Mystery solved there.
Anyhoo, all this reminded me of the cats I had when I was newly married. Since my mean-o parents would not let me have one, I got one myself. She was one of my mother-in-law’s kittens, a cute Siamese I named Keiko because it was the only Asian-ish name I knew. I have over 500 posts (mostly about a series of idiotic books and other random topics like boogers) so I couldn’t remember if I had told you guys about my cats yet. So I did one of those searches on my blog and came up with this post about Barbie that mentions cats exactly once.
Then I realized that hey, if I don’t remember what I’ve written about, chances are you don’t either. So I’m going to tell you about my cats, okay? Because no one gets tired of hearing about someone’s cats. I know I don’t. I love seeing cat and dog pictures on the phones of my coworkers. I don’t have pictures like that, because I just have a turtle, some fish, and children. And who is interested in that stuff?
Anyway, my kitten was so adorable, and would lay back lazily in my arms like a baby. I thought then it was because she loved me, but now I firmly believe the cat’s insides were made of some kind of gelatinous material. She spent a great deal of time draped across furniture like a throw. When she wasn’t leaping out of trees scaring the crap out of my mother when she came to visit. Or licking her toes. Because cats know when you don’t like them, and they zone in on that.
But both my husband and I worked, so I decided to get another kitten from the shelter (it always starts with one, remember?) to keep Keiko company. She was gray and cute, with a nose that was half gray and half pink. I didn’t realize this kitten came with PTSD, which wasn’t helped by her adopted sister’s tendency to hold her in a head lock and thump her repeatedly in the head. My husband decided she could be his cat, and named her Sylvia because she was kind of silver. Looking back, I think Rosemary’s cat would have been better. Because this cat was always a bit off. She feared everything, especially strangers of any kind, and darted out of the room at first sight. So most people only saw a gray flash of her. She hid under the bed in this bit of fabric that was torn loose. This made a great hammock when she was a kitten, but not so great when she was a nine-pound cat.
Things only got worse when I got pregnant with an actual baby, and could no longer clean out the litter box for fear of that cat poop disease that can be bad for babies and all. Since my husband wasn’t super big on cleaning it either, we let the cats hang with my mother-in-law for an extended vacation. This suited Keiko, because she had no loyalty whatsoever and was fine as long as someone fed and worshiped her. It didn’t quite suit Sylvia, who came back to us an even bigger nervous wreck. I suppose I should not be surprised, given the mental illness in my family, that I would get a cat with issues too. But man, this cat had them in spades.
She would come up to us in the middle of the night and meow, but not just any meow, a frantic repetitive one like this “Meowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeowmeow.” And then she’d look at you with these deranged eyes, as if she’d just been through one of those war movies and lost all her comrades in grenade explosions. We started to let the cats go outside, which again made no difference to Keiko, but caused Sylvia serious panic attacks. She didn’t want to go out. But then she didn’t want to come in, either. Because there were invisible elves out to torture her . . . or something. And they lived indoors and out. Even my husband one day said “That cat is seriously psycho.”
We were both sleep deprived from the new baby (no doubt yet another source of stress for Sylvia. Keiko again didn’t care because she was still fed.) and not quite equipped to handle special needs. Or even their basic needs because we were going through our own PTSD – infant PTSD. So we put an add in the paper and found new homes for the cats. Keiko went to a nice old man in a wheelchair which was perfect because she could be a rug for his legs. And Sylvia went to a guy with a nice big farm. She ran from him and I had to yank her out from under the bed, claws extended, writhing and twisting and hissing. And he still took her. I can only imagine what happened to her on that farm. Maybe she went to the corner of a barn and had a kitty breakdown? I don’t know. But these days, I can relate a lot more to Sylvia. Life is serious stuff, and sometimes you need to hide under the bed. If only we could all be Keikos.
Later on, I was allergy tested, and found out that I was now allergic to animal fur, along with pollen, mold, smoke, perfume, work, the sun, the moon, any deviation in my routine, and stupid people. So basically everything. The only thing I could really prevent was animal fur. Even cute animal fur. The cats try to sneak in but get caught and put back outside. I will stand firm on that one. No matter what sort of con they try on me. Willow has this look that says, “Hello. Can you help keep cats like me off drugs and off the street?” Needless to say, Hazel does not like her homing in, and peed all over the place as a way of saying “Get out.” Willow hasn’t taken the hint, though she does back off from cat hisses. She’s not throwing herself under a bus or anything.
So ends and begins my cat story. Just remember, cats are just as messed up as humans, only more evil and crafty, so watch yourself. And for goodness sake’s don’t feed them. Or have children that feed them.
And never, ever let them get wet.
So I was scrolling through Ebay because there was housework to do and BORING when I came across some stuff you just really have to get! I mean this stuff is just so . . . it’s just . . . wow. Like better than someone’s plucked mustache remains wow. Or a booger that is shaped just like the Virgin Mary wow. Or . . . I’ll get to the ebay finds.
I didn’t find any boogers. I didn’t look for any either. But I DID find . . .
- Evil Fairy Godmother
Wow, you gotta love them camera angels. This doll isn’t really that scary in real life. I know because I have one, not the “new” Helena Bonham Carter sexy fairy godmother, but the bean bag fat bottomed fairy. You know, cause when it comes to fairy godmothers, it’s all about da base. But wow, maybe this person should have thought a little more before shooting this picture in the dark with that lightning cause she scares the crap out of me. Please don’t fulfill any wishes, Satan – er Fairy Godmother!
2. Face Off Necklaces
Yes, according to this, that is the face of Belle, though I’m not sure how you’d tell her face from any other severed doll face. It kind of reminds me of that Oscar-Worthy Face-Off movie where John (wacky Scientologist) Travolta and Nicholas (just whack) Cage switch faces because . . . they had special effects? I forget. Anyway, I think this artist should move on and try to cash in on that movie with Nick Cage and Travolta necklaces because nothing would ward off evil fairy godmothers like a couple of those guys’ faces around your neck. Just sayin’.
3. What’s that under your dress, Tiana?
Yes, yes, SEEMS like a normal doll. AT FIRST.
So all this time Tiana’s been hiding a giant frog under her dress. Why? Or . . . or is that part of her body? In case you missed the movie, or actually watched it and still missed half of it (like I did), Tiana turns into a frog along with her prince for a while and wacky hijinks ensue. But then she becomes human at the end. At least . . . we thought she did. That must have been a weird wedding night.
4. And now for something normal . . . but stupid.
No, the weird thing about this isn’t the price tag (though it does boggle my mind). It’s not the pin either, even though it’s just a face with no body. It’s more like the fact that the girl in question is not Cinderella. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t expect everyone to know Disney like I obsessively do, but if you can’t figure out who this girl is, you might want to say, look at the title of the blog you’ve been reading. Look familiar now?
Hint: It’s Alice in Wonderland! Try doing some research Ebay person! And that’s not all. One more example.
This one is even less subtle, but to fill any of you non-Disney freaks in, Mulan is from China. She wears a dress just like that. But that’s not Mulan, it’s someone from Arabia. That’s right, it’s Cinderella! No, no, no it’s Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. Mulan’s kinda paler, and has those slanted eyes, and is, you know, an entirely different ethnicity. But hey, it’s tough enough to tell them apart when they’re white, am I right?
I have so many more to show, but I’ll keep it short so that I can
milk one more post out of this save some fabulous stuff for next time!
5. Puppy abuse, princess style
I’m not going to make you guess which princess dress this is, because it’s not important. Also it’s in the heading. The most important thing is that this poor little pampered pet is being forced to wear a princess dress. And just look at that pleading face! I mean, the dog has a hard enough time hanging out with other dogs considering it looks like a rather large furry gerbil with ponytails. Then you put the dress on her. You’ve doomed your dog to getting her butt kicked on the playground. If she’s lucky. Shame on you, puppy parents.
Want to see more Ebay finds? Especially ones that revolve around Disney since that’s what I search for a lot (be thankful I don’t search for boogers). I thought so! I will dig some more up from the dregs of Ebay, just for you guys! Because that’s the kind of sharing Alice I am. You’re welcome.
I was on Facebook, once again trying to stay away from anything remotely important or relevant to the universe, when up comes this on Facebook News.
OMG. First it was announced that Will Smith and his wife were breaking up and peeps were crying until Will said, “No we totally aren’t breaking up cause she’s my queen – that’s what you told me to say, right, honey?” – and then everything was well in the world again. And then we hear about Muppets breaking up. This was a huge surprise because I didn’t even know they had an actual relationship. I sort of thought it was just light-hearted stalking and sexual harassment on the part of Miss Piggy since Kermit never did seem that interested in crossing the species boundary like she was. Not with so many other frogs in the sea.
Yet here it is – the end of a couple / ongoing court case. Some are speculating that this is a publicity stunt for their upcoming TV show. I’m not sure why they’d make a TV show since most of the Muppet movies lately have bombed (Hint: do not use that guy from How I Met Your Mother in any movie. He sucks.) If they want success, they should just head back to Sesame Street. Kermit could report the news like old times. Maybe they’d find love again. I hear Telly Monster (the one who used to be pathologically obsessed with television but that wasn’t cool since Sesame Street figured out they were a TV show, so now is pathologically obsessed with triangles) is single. So is Cookie Monster, though he might eat furniture. Or possibly Miss Piggy herself, since he is branching out his diet. And then there is Big Bird, but he still hasn’t been able to leave the nest, plus he has the mind of a six-year-old and imagined his friend so hard that everyone else got to see him too (Snuffaluffagus could be a candidate on the other hand).
You might be wondering why I am reporting on this news since it was announced yesterday already and everyone is is anyone already knew about it. It certainly has nothing to do with me dragging my feet on my Disney Hunger Games story. It really is happening – we have the gruesome pictures for you and everything (cleaned up for families cause this is Disney). But there was the problem of bad lighting, leaves, and laziness. Don’t you worry three or four fans of mine, you’ll soon see who gets axed – er – who bites the big one first. You will also have the opportunity to send aid to your favorite characters, just like in the real Hunger Games. You know like water, or forest animals, or an all powerful genie, whatever. You just can’t miss this stuff! Heck, maybe Miss Piggy will make an appearance. You know what an attention hog she is.
Well that’s all I have for now. Be sure to read the article – and the comments – on the Huffpo article I linked to because as usual, the comments section is more amusing than the article. Especially the people who argue with people that Kermit and Piggy are Muppets and how stupid are they that they don’t realize this news is fake, huh? Fat lot they know. Kermit and Piggy are totally real. I grew up with them on my television set. Everything on television is real.
I feel like some bacon now.