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.
I have a very healthy guilt complex, and in turn a great punishment system. Whap, Alice, do not do that anymore. Bad, Alice, BAAAAD.
On the other hand, I also have that little bit of rebel in me that says “Hey MAN, you aren’t my DAD” and then does the stuff anyway.
You might realize this is a bit of a vicious cycle. When I wrote my last post, I really meant it as tongue in cheek. Yes, it’s an issue, but I haven’t spent us out of house and home, so it’s not that big of a . . .
Okay, okay! So I have an issue I must get to the bottom of presently. My recent need to overspend on stuff, vs my former need to never spend. I need to get to the bottom of this cesspool of dolly evilness. Why am I compelled to spend, then feel anxious about it? I mean I’m anxious if I don’t, and anxious if I do, so either way I’m around a mad person.
There is a need here. I mean we all have needs to fill, and we all fill them with some sort of stuff, whether it’s doing yoga in a hot room till you pass out, or eating lots of CAKE, or playing Xbox games, or doing responsible stuff like eating vegetables and working and . . . shudder. So once you find the need, you no longer have to buy the stuff.
Except you don’t have to torture yourself over it either. It’s totally okay sometimes to spend. And I have stickers, peeps, stickers that show I didn’t spend every single day. Except on the stickers, cause you know . . . quit chastising meeeee!
I did realize after getting irritated at some of the responses to my “Buy it All” post that I was actually asking for forgiveness and reassurance, and annoyed when I didn’t get it. Or just annoyed that people didn’t just think it was funny. I’m sure it has something to do with past experiences and what we bring to the table. But come on, the spending song was fun!
Well, I thought it was.
But it’s not actually your responsibility to make me feel better about myself. That’s my counselor’s responsibility. Hahahaha . . . okay, fine, it’s mine, but she does a pretty good job too. She rarely hits me with a rod, because she knows I do that too much myself. Also I probably would stop paying her.
So does this mean I am a spoiled child? Spare the rod, you know, spoil the child. What an odd saying. Like beat that kid, because if you don’t, he’ll be all like rotten fruit, all mushy, which is what the kid will be if you keep beating him with that rod. Talk about a conundrum there.
What to do, what to do? I’ll stop hitting myself with the rod for a while and wait for all of you to figure it out. I have to go shop some more at the Disney store.
THEY MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE THEY SAID IT THEMSELVES!
I have just been invited to a bloghop. I think this might be the equivalent of being invited to a blog prom. I mean, I don’t (yet) know the other bloggers that well, but one of them said I was funny, and so naturally I agreed to this hop thing, even though I don’t really know what it is. Like I usually do.
You will see in my sidebar and right below the link to the lady who started this thing, Victoria of the blog Angst, who I think is maybe Satan’s girlfriend. (Being Satan’s girlfriend would be totally cool – I bet she’d get ALL the good stuff). Or maybe she just likes wearing devil horns. Anyway, here is the neat-o badge that she made. I chose the pink one, of course.
So if you click on the link you’ll see my funny blog listed! On October 31st, we are supposed to write a post and give something away. You may remember how last time I had a contest I gave away a glitter dunked pony, so I’m sure you are all salivating at the prospect of another of my prizes.
This year I’ve decided to give away autographed pictures of me, Alice, that the girls and I drew our very selves. Without glitter, though we could always add this if needed. Thing One has a great reproduction of Alice she drew just from looking at a picture. Thing Two drew me as an anime my little pony. And I drew myself – as Alice – with a 50 shades book in my pocket (what good is a book without any sense?) These pics will be on real paper that we’ll scan so it will actually look like something besides a flying turtle (unless you prefer the flying turtle). I’ll show them as soon as they are ready.
Did I mention I just spent several minutes doing nothing but unraveling a scarf?
Oh wait, I am supposed to mention a contest for these fab prizes. Lately my latest obsession seems to be buying Disney dolls for the sole purpose of torturing them with families and jobs and stuff. It’s a great mother-daughter bonding experience.
Anyway, I want YOU to write me a caption for this picture (created by the Things and me with my Disney crew). Pictured is Pocahontas talking to Merida from the movie Brave. If you don’t know who these ladies are (seriously, you don’t know who Pocahontas is?) then Google it. It might make it funnier. Or it might be funnier if you have no idea who they are. Either way, go for it.
I know you guys can come up with twisted, bizarre, er I mean totally Disney friendly captions for this picture. I’ll post the winning caption with the picture on my Halloweeny post.
This is also your chance to tell me what to write about in my Halloween post. Let me know in the comments below. And remember, you gotta put this picture and your caption on your blog and link to ME so that
I get hits so all in this hop thing may see your proud work. Good luck!
Hullo, all, welcome to Flashback Friday, where I
get lazy and don’t make up a new post recycle an oldie but a goodie, from before I was all “famous” and crap. Enjoy! Or not, whatevs.
From September 2011 . . .
“It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering to itself `The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! She’ll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where CAN I have dropped them, I wonder?'”
– Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
I’m late for an important date. If only I could remember what it was. And where. Also what it was about. The poor white rabbit. If I can identify with anyone besides Alice, it would be this poor stressed-out type A rabbit.
Not only do I feel like I’m constantly running and not getting anywhere, I’m not sure where I want to be. I don’t really want to be around mad people, but the Cheshire Cat pointed out the obvious. Everyone’s mad. Everyone’s running around staring at their Iphones that have gone dead, realizing the terrible truth that every number they need to call is in their contact list. Which is on the phone.
This makes for an anxious society. No, scratch that. About half of us are anxious, and the other half are what I like to call carriers. Some carriers fly by the seat of their pants and enjoy it. Other carriers assume that someone else will do it for them, and enjoy it. And then there’s the realists, often termed pessimists. Guess which one I am? I am so often anxious, that NOT being anxious is a strange feeling for me. It doesn’t last long, as it is usually accomplished through a pill that knocks me out.
Which is why I need Caffeine, a stimulant found in Coke, a drink that can keep you awake and clean your toilet. It’s always nice to have things with multiple purposes. Which is why I have several pairs of shoes for each family member. This way, surely I can find one pair, right? So my youngest has worn snow boots in Summer. No one thinks this is unusual, given the child in question, so it works.
The White Rabbit is a great example for anxiety, ADHD, OCD, etc. Rabbits are always anxious, their little bodies panting, their hearts running a million miles an hour, even while still. They’re made that way because they happen to be prey for a lot of other creatures. Even pet rabbits have this constant fight or flight response, though there is no immediate threat. Save a toddler, in which case the rabbit is probably better off in the wild. They are ready to run at a moment’s notice, darting anywhere and everywhere. It’s no wonder they can’t keep up with their gloves. This is why, of course, rabbits these days don’t wear them.
I feel like a rabbit. Sometimes I can’t concentrate. While my body is often still (my eldest once fondly informed me that I was much like a Sloth) my mind runs 24/7. Thoughts go boing, boing, boing. I envy my husband, who, I swear, can sit and not think. At all. I’m not sure how he does this. Maybe his constant viewing of reality T.V. shows about fishing and garbage diving has contributed to this. Not that I can act too superior. I spend so much time on the computer, it’s a good thing there are pictures of my kids on it.
Do these electronic devices and the internet make us that way? I don’t think so, as I’m sure I’ve been much like this even when all we had was the Apple IIc (turn the disk over, new disk, please wait, turn the disk over, please wait, why don’t you go make you a sandwich?) Certainly I was before the Internet. I think it’s ingrained, which is why my eldest is panicked about a possible detention, and the youngest gets them so routinely that she thinks it’s a normal part of the school day. It’s how we’re wired.
But is it permanent? I hope not. I’m seeing a counselor, in hopes of rewiring myself, at least to the point that I can sometimes find my gloves, my glasses, my shoes, my keys. So that I’m exercising physically rather than in my head. I’ve already “run” myself to physical exhaustion. There’s no queen or duchess waiting to chop off my head. So maybe, just maybe, I can figure out how to relax. Oh look, here’s something that says eat me . . .
And now the conclusion to Not Quite Alice‘s Mad Tea Party . . . If you missed part one, see here.
I’m not exactly sure how it happened really, it just did. One moment, everyone is enjoying the party, and the next thing I know, it’s chaos. No, that’s wrong. I can tell you what went wrong. Hatter and the March Hare, that’s what went wrong. I made sure they didn’t know about it, that everyone’s invitations said to keep mum about it, yet somehow, they still found out. I’m completely laying the blame at their jam covered feet.
It was a nightmare. That god forsaken doorbell kept ringing, and yet no one seemed to hear it. I tried to ignore it, but alas, it was blasted annoying. It wouldn’t stop, and yet I know I do not have a doorbell in this garden. It feels as if I’m tipping the scales in favor of being mad. Oh I hope not.
Just as I started to try very hard to ignore the dratted doorbell, I saw the look on Caterpillar’s face. He was about to go off on a rant. I could see it coming. Oh please, not now Caterpillar, not now. Oh, this is not going to be good. I best go try to intervene. I can only guess what Rabbit said to him. Oh no, it’s not Rabbit. How did the one Twin get to be next to him? I swear he wasn’t there a moment ago. Why is he bumping his stomach into him? Caterpillar does not like being touched. And there he goes, his face just changed to red.
“Who are you to be touching me? Do not touch me you child. You shall see my wrath if you continue.”
As he spoke, you could see the pieces of spittle flying out of his mouth, as well as the puffs of smoke he was blowing into the Twin’s face. This ended up blinding the twin. Yes, a bumbling fool became more of one due to being blinded by Caterpillar’s spit and smoke. Trying to wipe his eyes, he bounces right into Caterpillar again, who kicked him away. This caused him to fly into Rabbit and the table. Rabbit took off at a run. To where, you might ask. Nowhere in particular, just around the table, but boy was he in a hurry.
At this point, I’m still hearing the doorbell; I cannot take it anymore and have to find it. I leave the chaos of the blinded twin and startled Rabbit behind and start looking. I go to the gate, where anyone might logically think to find something, yet nothing is there. Weird, even the door of the gate is no longer there. How odd. So I start around the cottage (yes I live in a cottage, it’s a step up from a shack, and I don’t need a mansion). Again, nothing there. Wait, that’s not true, there are footprints there, but those could be from anyone. I best leave those alone and keep looking.
As I continue looking around the other side of the cottage, I hear the noise coming from the garden at an increasingly louder pitch, and with more of a sound of hysteria attached. This shall not be good at all. I give up hope of finding the dratted doorbell sound, and now the missing garden gate, and start walking faster towards the garden, after all, I was told ladies do not run, just walk at a much faster pace.
And then I saw it, pure and utter chaos in the form of Hatter and March Hare. Blast it all. Bullocks, this was not suppose to happen, and at my Unbirthday party. I started seeing red, lots and lots of red, like the color of the blood that was about to flow from those two.
Why was this going to happen? Oh, you would feel the same way in my shoes. My cute dainty pumps. Actually, you look like you wouldn’t fit them, so I best not use that phrase, instead I’ll say if you were in my place. Yes, if you were in my place, you would want to spill their blood too.
What I saw as I reentered the garden was unbelievable. The Caterpillar was so enraged; he was bright red and sputtering like a boiling tea pot. The Rabbit was still sprinting around the tea table, but now, it looked he was having balance issues. He kept slipping and sliding, like he was on one of those funny slip n slide games. And his vest is now covered in jam. I know I hid that jam too. Goodness me. This is not good. The twin is still bumping into everything, wait, no; he stopped, and now he is rolling around like a large awkward ball. He is going to hurt someone, if not himself.
Further down, you see the White Knight sound asleep. Thank goodness for miracles, sadly that’s where it ends. The Carpenter and Walrus are in the middle of a serious row. In fact, my lovely scones that I worked so hard on, are being flung across the table as weapons. They’re not weapons, they’re food. So flaky and moist and just dying for some clotted cream. Not to be launched as projectiles.
Right in the middle of all of that, I hear some yelling.
“Clean cup, everybody move down. Clean cup, I need a clean cup.”
There’s Hatter, yelling for a clean cup, and he’s literally pushing people out of their chairs. Ok, I admit that there really are not many left in their chairs, just the White Knight. Sadly I have been mistake, he’s now out of his chair, and sleeping on the ground. Hatter is sitting in his place, drinking his tea. March Hare is right beside him tossing jam like it’s confetti at Rabbit, wait, no that’s stopped, he’s now throwing it at flying scones. Jam is landing on everyone and everything.
Oh goodness, there goes Caterpillar, he’s leaving, well and also leaving a trail of smeared butter, cream, and jam. So that’s how Rabbit looked like he was having balance issues, but how did butter and cream end up on his feet? That will have to stay a mystery for now I’m afraid as I don’t have time to deal with all these mysteries as well as the growing chaos.
I do mean chaos too. There is a trail of jam, butter, and clotted cream leading out of the garden, as well as it being smeared everywhere. I have scones flying across the table as if they were grenades. The Hatter and March Hare are now dancing on the table, why, I’m not really sure, but again, that’s a mystery I cannot solve at the moment, no time. Rabbit is sprinting around and around and around my table while sliding every which way thanks to his butter and cream covered feet. Over there is the White Knight, sound asleep with a blanket of discarded food and condiments on top of him. I don’t see how this could get more out of hand.
“Not Quite Alice, what is the meaning of this? I thought you had invited me to a tea party, not the circus.”
Bullocks, it just got worse.
“Hello Duchess, I’m so pleased you could make it, won’t you take a seat?”
I knew I should have listened to Alice, and not held a tea party on a day ending in Y.
Hullo, all. I have another guest blogger today, with the most fabulous name ever. Not Quite Alice of myrabbitholes. I know, right? TWO Alices. How are you going to tell us apart? I’ll give you a clue. One of us is nuts, and the other one is crazy. So there you go. She’s written a nice little short story about a tea party she tried to have on my blog. It went about as well as most of my family dinners. Also many of my work meetings. It comes in two parts, so stay tuned tomorrow for the rest. Enjoy.
“Clean cup! Move down!”
Oh good lord, not again. How did I get myself into this one? I could have sworn they were not invited. No, I know that they were not invited. I specifically ignored sending them an invite. This was my party, not theirs. I do not care if they have the best tea ever, they always manage to ruin every tea party. Case in point, this one.
It all started off normal. Ok, yes I know it usually does. I should know better by now. Really, I should, I swear I’m too naïve at times.
So the invites went out, ignoring the 2 party crashers (ok they weren’t crashers until they showed up uninvited, but this was my Unbirthday and they ruined the last one.). The tea was ordered, the scones were made, and the butter and jam hidden. That looks about right. Oh, one more thing, almost forgot. There, that’s better. I had to make sure that there were cups at each person’s setting. I cannot have that happen again. Clean cups and saucers for all.
Ok, that should do it. Everyone shall be here soon. Let the party begin!
And cue the doorbell!
No, it actually did just start ringing, which is odd in and of itself, I don’t have a door bell, this is outside, in the garden. So where did the doorbell come from? Ok, I’ll worry about that later, it’s not as if I’m utterly bonkers. I hope.
Guests! There here!
Places everyone, places.
What am I thinking? I am the one that needs to take their place. Should I sit down, or should I greet? Oh my, I don’t want anything to go wrong. It cannot go wrong this time. Not with the Duchess coming. At least, she said she will be coming. Oh I hope she does.
Oh please go good. Please!
There’s that doorbell again. Seriously, when did a doorbell get installed in the garden? No time for that now though, I need to get this party going.
Where is the party going? Oh never you mind that. It’s here, right here in my garden. Don’t you worry about that. Time to start the party.
In walked the Caterpillar, though is that what you would call what he does? Is it walking? Oh I don’t know, but I’ll call it walking for now. Goodness, he brought that God awful Hookah with him again. Can he not go anywhere without smoking that. He also goes on and on about the alphabet and vowels, and asking ridiculous questions that have no proper answers when he is smoking it. I do not need my guests to have to deal with that. I could have sworn I put it on his invitation that this will be a smoke free party.
“Oh do go sit over there, I set up a rather large stool for you, I didn’t know if you could fit into the chair properly.”
And off he goes to the large bean bag style stool I had just received in the mail yesterday. I bought it just for him. He’ll break my chairs otherwise.
Goodness! Where does that blasted doorbell keep coming from? I swear, it’s going to drive me utterly bonkers.
Oh look! It’s the Knave of Hearts. I must keep an eye on him, last time he was around, my tarts disappeared. Oh I hope my scones don’t disappear, they are my favorites and I worked so hard to bake them too. I did invite him though, so best be nice. I just didn’t think he would actually arrive. Ok, control yourself, you can do it. Do not start hiding the food. You can do it. Good girl.
“You best sit down over here, Caterpillar brought the Hookah again, and I know how you cannot stand his rants. “
“I could always just steal that Hookah from him.”
“Don’t even, then that’s all we shall be hearing about for the rest of this Unbirthday. I would like this one to go without a problem.”
I do hope he got the hint, don’t steal my food. How very rude of a guest to do that.
Again! That annoying doorbell. Where the frak is it coming from?
Oh, look, there’s one of the twins, is it Dee or Dumb? Oh, I can never tell the difference between the two. I swear, one is Dumb and the other is Dumber. It’s very fitting. Neither is very smart, they’re actually quite lacking in the brains department, but at least they’re entertaining to have at any gathering. Though, I still do not know which this one is.
Best go see who it is.
“Well, I’m so glad you could make it. Is it just you, or is your brother going to be joining us as well?” (see how slick that was, I hope he gets the hint.)
“That jolly lump is on his way, yet which way it is, I do not know. Perhaps it’s there, or is it here? It could be that a way, or is it this a way?”
Oh sweet sugar, what is he talking about? And he didn’t answer who he is, now I’m just going to have to pretend I know who it is. I wonder if he will actually notice I do not know who he is, or what he is saying? Honestly, I don’t think anyone knows what he is saying.
Oh look, there’s the white knight. He’s such an interesting person, not much of a knight, but a great inventor. I still don’t understand why he became a knight, except he said his father was one, therefore he had to be one. Poor guy, he’s not very brave, this is definitely the wrong line of work for him. He’s better at creating inventions. Perhaps I shall mention this annoying doorbell that keeps going off out here in my garden.
“Good day Sir White Knight, how are you?”
“And exactly who are you again? I don’t recall ever being here before. Where is here?”
“I do believe that you were going to this chair right here. Do take a seat sir, all will be well. Enjoy your tea.”
Great, he’s in one of those moods today. I swear he remembers less and less each time I see him. Honestly, I’m surprised he found his way here, or even remembered that he was to come here.
“Does anyone else hear a doorbell going off?” I cannot help it, I have to ask. I keep hearing it, and no one else seems to. And then the stares start, at least it’s only 4 sets of eyes though. I couldn’t take it if it was more than that just staring at me like I’ve lost my marbles. How could I? I have not had marbles with me this whole time anyways.
I do believe I see the White Rabbit arriving. Late as usual. I swear, he needs to get a working watch. He is always running late. I am half expecting that he will not stay long and run off saying he is late, again. Tis a good thing I have his place all set already.
“Oh good, you’re here Rabbit. I have a place all over here for you. Caterpillar cannot wait to talk to you today.”
That will start to teach him about being on time. From now on, I’ll make sure he sits by Caterpillar until he comes on time. He had best be glad I didn’t sit him near the one twin. Such a nervous little guy too. You’d think he was about to lose his head. Goodness me.
Oh look, there’s the Walrus and the Carpenter. I’m surprised that they came together. Last I heard, the Carpenter was livid with Walrus for eating all those oysters. And they’re suppose to be such good friends too! I’m glad Walrus isn’t my good friend, but he does have a lively aura about him, such fun to have around. Still, if he was my friend, I might have, no, I definitely would have gotten back at him.
“Gentlemen, I’m so glad you could make it today. Do come and enjoy. You’ll find some empty chairs right over here. Let me know if I can get you anything.”
Just don’t kill each other today, save it for when you leave. Please.
It doesn’t look like the Duchess is coming, so I guess we best get things started. I can take my place at the table now.
“Thank you everyone for coming to celebrate my Unbirthday with me today. You have made this a most joyous occasion. Please, everyone, enjoy your tea and scones, and let me know if you need anything.”
And with that, the calm ended.
Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for the exciting and possibly bloody conclusion!
Hello, all. Today I’ve got a guest blogger from a galaxy far, far away. You can find him these days on Stuphblog. His name is Twindaddy, and he is the best storm trooper blogger I have ever met. This guy has blogged under some extreme conditions, but today he’s gone somewhere no trooper has gone before – Wonderland. He has written an awesome short story that will be featured in two parts. Part Two will appear here on Saturday.
When you’re done here, be sure to check out his awesome blog – there’s a lot of cool stuph™ to be found! Without further ado, I give you a Storm Trooper in Wonderland . . .
“Dantooine. They’re on Dantooine.”
Dantooine. I’d never heard of this planet before. Yet here I am on this desolate world. There is allegedly a rebel base located on this world according to ISB. And that’s why we’re here. To find this base.
Let’s be honest, there’s no rebel base here. If there were they would have fled the planet as soon as we arrived in system. The rebels always run and hide. Always. They wouldn’t hunker down and wait for us to find them. They’re scared of us, as well they should be. What an epic waste of time this is.
The world seems pleasant enough, though. Dantooine is a terrestrial world filled with grassy plains, winding rivers, and beautiful lakes. This even seems like a pleasant enough world to take a vacation on. You know, if we stormtroopers were actually allowed to have vacations. Sometimes I think they see us as machines. Like droids. We’re human, though. As human as we can be after all that training.
It’s just after sunrise here. The local sun, Dina, has just crested over the eastern horizon, illuminating the dark-colored clouds in the sky and casting long shadows behind every object.
I have no idea what part of the planet I’m on. My commander just deployed me here via shuttle and ordered me to search for the secret base. I’m sure it’s out here in plain view for me to find. That was sarcasm if you couldn’t tell. Why are my commanders always so incompetent?
I began walking towards the tree ahead of me with the unusually large trunk when I heard a voice. An odd voice. It was a high-pitched voice, yet raspy at the same time. I froze and concentrated on the voice and tried to make out what it was saying. The voice progressively grew louder until I could clearly understand the spoken words.
“I’m late! I’m late!” the squeaky voice exclaimed as a weird creature came scurrying from behind me. I was startled, but managed not to jump out of my armor, because I’m just that good.
I studied the creature that had just ran right by me: an extremely small creature, with short white fur, and two long ears protruding from its tiny head. It was carrying some sort of chronometer in its hand and was attired in the oddest ensemble. It had some sort of red jacket overtop a dark yellow shirt. It was wearing grey pants with a white fluffy ball sticking out of its rear-end. Weird. And no shoes whatsoever. To say the least, I was mildly intrigued.
Curious, I followed the creature. As I was completely sure there were no rebels on this seemingly uninhabited planet, this might turn out to be the most interesting thing I see while I’m here. I figured I may as well see where it leads me. I had to maintain a brisk jog to keep pace with this creature, but that was no problem for me. As a warrior for the Empire, I’m in excellent physical shape. The creature passed by the fat tree and turned toward the rocky outcropping to the left. What it was heading for I did not know, yet I felt compelled to follow it.
After jogging behind it for a few hundred more meters along this rocking outcropping, it became clear that we were heading for a cave embedded into the outcropping up ahead. The creature never slowed or quickened its pace, but kept saying it was late over and over again. It also seemed oblivious to the fact that I was following it.
When it reached the cave it entered without hesitation. My curiosity now piqued, I followed carelessly through the cave’s entrance.
Big mistake. Big mistake indeed.
Just a few steps inside this dark cavern the floor disappeared. Maybe it was never there to begin with, but it certainly looked like the rocky ground was still there when I attempted my next step. Before I knew it or was ready for it, I was free-falling.
How stupid of me. I can’t believe I was so heedless as to just run right into an unknown situation. I know better. I was trained to avoid just this situation. Caution, caution, caution! I can’t believe I did this. I’m going to die because I’m stupid.
While all of this was going through my head, I failed to notice that I hadn’t found the bottom of this pit yet. When that stark realization snapped me back to reality, I looked down and saw the last thing I expected to see at the bottom of this cave I was plunging through.
A lit, finished floor.
Unbelievably, the closer I got to the floor below, the slower my descent became. I eventually landed gently on my feet, like a feather landing gracefully on the ground. All I could think was, “Whoa, that was weird.”
I slowly took stock of my situation. I still had my armor and I still had my blaster. I checked my utility belt and found what I hoped was still there. My comlink. I yanked it from my belt and began to speak into it.
“SB1977 to command. Do you read me over?” No response. I tried a couple more times to reach my commander, but to no avail. I brought the comlink up to try a fourth time when I heard a disturbingly sinister laugh echoing from somewhere beyond the edge of the light.
“That won’t work in here,” a haunting voice said.
I quickly brought my blaster up in both hands, ready to fire on any threat to my safety. “Who goes there?” I loudly asked.
Suddenly the edge of the light extended off to my right, illuminating a green door stuck between open, red curtains. The door had a golden knob on its right side with eyes above the knob and a keyhole doubling as a mouth below it. The knob seemed to be the nose of the most bizarre creature I had ever seen before.
I walked toward the door. Instead of the door growing larger as I approached, it actually became smaller. The knob’s eyes seemed to be following me as I moved toward it.
“Did you say something to me?” I asked it. Then, the absurd realization of what I had just done hit me like the shockwave from a thermal detonator blast. I just spoke to a kriffing door. Great, Drun. Just great. What will you do for your next trick?
The knob seemed to regard me, then its mouth began moving. “I said, ‘That won’t work in here.'”
I was so shocked and taken aback that I nearly soiled myself. A doorknob had just spoken to me. What is going on here?
“If you want to get through, you’ll have to use that key,” it continued, gesturing to its right (my left) with its creepy eyes.
I followed its gaze to my left and saw a table sitting there. On the table sat three items: a white cake, a blue bottle, and a golden key.
I looked back to the door. “How do I get through?”
It smirked. The door actually smirked. This is insane. “That’s for you to figure out,” it told me.
I raised my blaster and carefully aimed it at the door knob. “Look, whatever you are, I am a trooper for the Empire and you will tell me what I need to know or I’ll blast you!”
“Oh, that’s not how this…”
I had enough. That was all the knob could spit out before I angrily pulled the trigger and forever silenced it. As an added bonus, the door flew open. The doorway, however was too small for me to fit through. I walked over to the table and inspected the items it held. The key was now useless, so I ignored it. The bottle had a label on it that said “drink me.” Next to it was a cake that had “eat me” written into the frosting. After a short, juvenile chuckle at having just read the words “eat me” emblazoned on a cake, I decided to take a bite of the cake. I removed my helmet and took a small bite of the white cake.
A most puzzling thing then happened. Everything suddenly began to shrink. Then, I realized that it was me who was getting larger and not everything else getting smaller. Sithspit! What is going on?
My head hit the ceiling. Wait, there’s a ceiling in here? How did I get in here if there’s a ceiling? Smacking my head against the ceiling didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t exactly a gentle bump, either. Luckily, I stopped growing once my head hit the ceiling or else things would have become even more unpleasant.
The cake was an utter failure, so I decided to try the bottle. I figured that if the cake made me bigger, then hopefully the bottle would make my smaller. I lifted the now miniscule bottle up to my waiting mouth, which was no easy task considering the bottle was about the size of one of my fingernails now, and dumped its contents into my biggest orifice. My mouth.
Very quickly, everything became huge as I shrunk to the size of the door in what seemed like a heartbeat. It wasn’t gradual like eating the cake had been. I looked all around. Everything was huge now, except for the door, which was now just the right size. I took a step toward the door only to have my foot bang into some inanimate object I hadn’t noticed was there. I looked down and saw my helmet lying there in front of me. Somehow, it had shrunk, too. Not daring to question my good fortune in that regard, I picked it up and placed it back over my precious skull. Well, it’s precious to me, anyhow.
With no other reason to stay, I continued through the door, completely unprepared for what lay on the other side.
. . . Stay tuned Saturday for the exciting conclusion!
While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words:-
`I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!’
-Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
What a lovely nursery rhyme! Okay, so the Duchess would not be considered parent-of-the-year material. In fact, the whole shaken baby thing would definitely get her a day in court, unless the child were to turn into a pig, in which case she’d only have to worry about PETA.
But what makes the “perfect” parent? Obviously we don’t want to beat children for sneezing – not when there are so many other reasons to smack them. Not saying that I do, of course, but I doubt there’s a real parent on earth who hasn’t thought of it at least once. This is why television is such a lifesaver. Without the occasional use of the boob tube babysitter, I bet there’d be a lot more sneezing beatings.
But of course you’ll get the parents who know more than you do. Nevermind that thus far, you’ve managed to not kill your kids, a very awesome success in itself, these people are certain they are doing it better than you are. Their precious child never had a bottle, never watched a second of T.V., never threw tantrums, never ate anything but organic homemade food, never had a second of unstructured time. They did learn to speak, crawl, and walk earlier than other babies. Also, their children prefer the taste of spinach over chocolate, and eat it all the time, and are involved in every type of sport, and also make straight As. And then, of course, they wonder – what do YOU do?
I am a slacker mom. I used to be embarrassed about this, especially around the Stepford wife crowd, found anywhere, but especially known to congregate in churches. But now I look at my kids, and I realize that they’re not perfect, but they’re happy most of the time. They weren’t breastfed for years, but they have fewer allergies than their breastfed peers. They didn’t always walk and crawl and talk right when the book said they should, but my eldest hummed “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” to herself at less than a year.
Her little sister was more the scientist type than the artistic – at about 17 months she discovered through personal experimentation that super glue was, in fact, not a poisonous substance. And this was after quite a few hours of the dreaded Clifford the Big Red Dog, Teletubbies, and Big, Big World, a show that would make the staunchest environmentalist want to burn down a rain forest. But they did learn from these shows, and as far as I can tell, haven’t lost brain cells because of it. I might need to tone down the Disney channel, though, because I’m fairly sure I’ve lost some from it merely by secondhand exposure.
Sometimes I get mad at my kids and shout at them. Sometimes I’m too tired to play. Sometimes I have to GET OUT before I go completely insane. They aren’t in any structured activities save church and Girl Scouts. But thus far they haven’t written a tell-all book about me. And my eldest even wrote an essay praising my good qualities, including showing them vidoes on Youtube. Which might have made the teacher wonder. But, ah well. When I’m feeling down, I remember that at least I don’t beat them for sneezing. So, with any luck, they won’t grow up to be pigs after all.
First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over.
– Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
*Note – this was originally published in 2011 back when my audience consisted of three people or so, one of them me. I decided to resurrect and update it some in honor of our upcoming
doom election. Hope you enjoy it!
There is a cold, soul-stealing chill in the air. Leaves die and fall from the trees, as the world prepares for the killing frost. What could this be a sign of? That’s right – it’s the political season! Haha, I’m only kidding. Politics does not have a season, for yea, it is eternal. As soon as a president is elected, the opposing party mounts a campaign for the next election while the newly elected president tries to keep himself popular enough for reelection, unless he is the incumbent, in which case he just tries not to do anything too embarrassing for his party. You know, like randomly declaring war or messing around with interns or selling illegal weapons or just generally acting like an asshole.
Obviously, many presidents fail at this. The only president most people have any respect for is Abraham Lincoln, and that’s because we don’t remember much about him except that he freed the slaves and all, which was swell of him to do, what with us having been a “free” country for a hundred years. So Abe was cool. Also George Washington because he was first. We like them so much we have a federal holiday for them (and a three day weekend if we’re lucky). But they are the exception. Gone are the days when our leaders were idolized figures. We’ve been cynical about politics for a long time, but with the economy in the toilet, people are getting downright psychotic.
In Wonderland, there is a caucus race, in which several strange creatures run round and round again in a race with no clear beginning or end. So politics have not changed since Carroll’s time, nor really since the beginning of time. The only people that would subject themselves to being President are clearly mad, so our pool of candidates has created what is known as voter apathy. As in, Americans vote more for their favorite American Idol than they do for President. Really though, you can vote for American Idol on the Internet, whereas with the president you have to figure out what district you’re in (they change them every election for fun), track down the obscure location, stand in line (if you’re in Texas, I advise you vote Democrat – much faster lines), and figure out the screwed up ballots. Every state does it differently, with Florida winning the medal for stupidest voting methods ever. On the plus side, during the 2000 election we did get to use the term “pregnant chads”. When else would you have opportunity for that?
So let’s say you’re crazy – er ambitious – enough to run for President. What do you have to do? Well, it helps if you are a wealthy, middle-aged white male with plastic hair. If you can’t manage that, you’d better have a great campaign slogan. Like “Choose me. At least I’m not so and so!” Be your own man – or really hot woman (this helps the sexist men look over your fault of not having a penis. Cause you’ve got bosoms, which are better.) The People like someone who speaks his mind. Of course you’d better not speak your real mind, or you’ll embarrass everybody. You have to impress your party platform also, or no amount of plastic hair and waxed teeth are going to get you the nomination. Hint: If you are a Republican, try not to mention “choice” too much. And if you’re a Democrat, don’t talk about how your favorite dish is endangered seals. It won’t go over well. If you’re a Libertarian, you can say whatever the hell you want, because no one will vote for you anyway.
But what if you don’t have any real viewpoints? What if you’re so stupid you only got through college because your wife (future First Lady!) did all your term papers for you while you drank heavily with your frat brothers? Not a problem. You don’t actually have to have views on the issues, or even know what they are necessarily. All you have to do is make the other guy look like more a loser than you are. This is known formally as Debate. The moderator will ask you questions to see how you stand on the issues. Oh, oh, questions! Again, don’t fret, project. And if that doesn’t work, change the subject. Observe the model below:
Moderator: Mr. Smith, what will you do to improve the economy?
Smith: Well, I will not do what Mr. Jones did.
Moderator: Great. What will you do?
Smith: Abortion is wrong. Jones likes abortion. He aborts babies for fun. In fact, he likes getting women pregnant just so he can perform more abortions. Abortion.
Moderator: That has nothing to do with the issue we are discussing.
Smith: Well it should. Abortion is important. Mr. Jones likes abortion. Also, he’s gay.
And so forth. Keep dancing around the questions while taking jabs at your opponent. Be sure you don’t say anything concrete that they can nail you on later. If they keep pressing you, claim that you are being prejudiced against because of your sex, race, national origin, or lack of intelligence. And then point out that the other candidate likes having orgies with nuns.
If you can do all this and secure your party’s nomination, you’ve got it made. Well, until you actually get elected. Then it’s time to start all over again.