In My (Disney) Defense

While I do regret that starting my Disney blog has very clearly taken my focus off of this here sad-assed blog, I’m not that sorry. Why? Because I’ve found my people.

I used to think that anyone who wrote a Disney blog or had a Disney-focused Twitter account must live within driving distance to the parks. I cautiously entered this online fanworld assuming I’d be shunned and mocked for being a literal outsider, living far too far away to be a real devotee. But it turns out that I was way off. Not only are the vast majority of Twitterers (Tweeps? Twerps?) and bloggers non-local, but even some authors of the best books on Disney don’t live anywhere near Disney property. To put this in perspective, I currently follow 177 folks on Twitter, and I think maybe 15 at the most live in Florida (or California).

What does this mean for me? It means I’ve been welcomed with open arms, and I no longer need to feel like a poseur.

I’ve been on Twitter for a little over two months, and I already have over 115 followers. My blog’s been live for the same amount of time, and while I only have 11 followers (and six of those are actually people I don’t know!), my daily page views are significantly more, as are the number of comments I receive. Again, for some perspective, this blog’s been around for about four years (!!) now, and while I LOVE LOVE LOVE the friends I’ve made and still interact with, they’re few in number. I allegedly have 24 followers to this blog, but eight are friends and family (love y’all!), and nine are random folks who all seemed to join five months ago. This makes me suspicious. Was I Freshly Pressed and never knew about it? Are y’all robots? DO YOU EXIST?

Anyway, point being, I seem to have come into my own over in the Disney internet landscape. And it feels good.

And to those who still scoff and think, “who in their right mind would willingly spend that much time reading about, writing about, discussing, collecting, and visiting Disney??” Well, the same could be said for your sports enthusiasm. How many player and coach names have you committed to memory over the years? How many random stats have you memorized? How often do you find yourself watching games, watching Sports Zone to recap those games? How often do you listen to sports radio? How much of your internet time is devoted to reading sports articles? How many folks are you following on Twitter that are pro athletes, experts, and other sports coverage media? How many sports-related updates pop up in your Facebook timeline? How many jerseys, t-shirts, jackets, shorts, sweats, socks, and even underwear do you own with your favourite team’s logo on them? How about bumper stickers? Memorabilia? Framed photos of best sports moments? Do you maybe even have a tattoo related to your favourite sports team?? Do you look forward with a child-like gleeful urgency to the next time you’ll get to see your favourite team in person?

Great! Congratulations, you have something that you’re passionate about!

The above bombardment of questions could also rephrased to apply to anyone with a passion for movies and celebrities, a music junkie, a home chef, a gadget guru, etc. You get the picture.

See? I’m really not very different from you at all. A passion is a passion. Sadly, it just seems that there are certain passions that are socially acceptable, while others *coughDisneycough* aren’t so. Well, I’m here to say that it should be! Equality for all!!!*

*Except for people with Furry/Fuzzy fetishes. Those people are just plain weird.

I’m happy to have found my special enclave of the intrawebs, though I do miss interacting with my long-time followers here. I shall try to pop back by more often. But in the meantime, just know that where I’ve drifted off to, I’m in good company. And we’re actually pretty normal people.

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Is this thing on?

No, I haven’t forgotten about you. I just stopped caring.

Kiddingnotkidding.

Look, I’m a busy person, okay? And frankly, the things I’m busy with, they’re boring. Or they’re Disney related. Either way, I know you don’t care. So what do you want me to say?

Do you want me to tell you all about my upcoming Disney World vacation in TWELVE WHOLE DAYS!!!!!?? Wait, no, I know you don’t want to hear about that.

I could tell you about how I was physically assaulted yesterday and left with lasting scars. But once I confess that the assault was what I refer to as the actions of a “stylist” upon my hair, and the scars the results, you’d probably be less interested. And no, I won’t be sharing any picture. And yes, I have called to bitch them out and will be returning tomorrow to have them attempt to salvage my once gorgeous coiffure. And yes, I am aware that bitching out the same person whom I’ll be entrusting to fix the problem probably isn’t the best tactic. And yes, I’ve already cried over the loss of what was left of my aging beauty and what was left of my money.

I could tell you about Dizzy’s dental procedure yesterday, because nothing says “riveting tale of suspense” like a cat getting a tooth pulled. Spoiler alert: all went as planned.

I could tell you about how I’m trying to sell my good-for-nothing-probably-not-even-the-insurance-money condo, but that’s not going well.

I could tell you about how all I want to do is move to Florida because I’m bored and lonely here now that Hank has left and is off touring the country, living the life of a Van Halen roadie. Or whatever it is he does that keeps him away from home for weeks at a time.

Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I get up, I eat breakfast, I work, I read Disney blogs, I work, I catch up on Twitter (Disney people only), I work, I eat lunch, I work some more, I get a run in, I read Twitter during the warm up and cool down, I shower, I work some more, I talk to cats a lot, I eventually back away from the computer, I eat dinner, I read a book, I watch some TV, I catch up on Twitter, I go to bed alone.

There, now are you still sad I’ve not written as much lately?

Life is better in Disney blogs.

The Great Chair Debacle

I’ve decided that I hate my home office desk chair (for any long-time readers, you may identify the irony in this statement, given the fact that the entire time I spent working in an office, I had chair issues, and now that I work from home… chair issues!).

My initial requirements when purchasing my current desk chair were thus: cheap and hot pink.

You wouldn’t believe how quickly that narrows down your options.

Luckily, I managed to find a lovely hot pink desk chair for a mere $40 at Staples several years back; amazeballs!

It’s served me well for a couple of years until semi-recently when it’s decided to start sagging and slacking and otherwise sculpting my back into a giant question mark shape. I’ve tried adding pillows, I’ve tried using a cane (okay, not really), but I’ve ultimately decided that I simply cannot use this chair anymore.

So now I work from the loveseat.

This has its advantages and disadvantages. Pros: it’s comfy as shit. Cons: I feel like a lazy sack of useless.

Granted, I’m getting just as much work done as I would while sitting upright at a desk, but there’s just something about Hank and Matilda seeing me lying down on a sofa all day that makes me blush and feel like a slacker.

I suppose it’s about time to look into getting a new chair. Requirements: cheap and hot pink. I’m really stuck here. I’ve found this one that I’ve personally tested and know to be comfortable, but at $140 it’s not cheap:

http://images.containerstore.com/catalogimages/165250/BungeeChairPnk10057218_l.jpg

I even found my current chair for sale online; I could buy a brand new, non-worn out version of it for $80.00. Damn that inflation!

I suppose I could accept a chair in a turquoise or lime green or something. Maybe even purple. White as a very last resort. It must fit into the cartoony world of my Disney office.

In other words, if you need me, I’ll be on the loveseat for the foreseeable future.

Don’t F*ck with a Bitch and her Bling

The other day I ventured out to Michael’s craft store to try and find some pieces for Lizzy’s and my Tweedle costumes. Oh, did I not tell you? We’re dressing up as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum to attend Mickey’s Not So Scary Halloween Party together!!!! What’s that? Yes, yes I did just mention some Disney on this non-Disney blog! What are you going to do about it?!!?

Incidentally, the other day, I wasn’t feeling nearly this confrontational.

Instead, there I was, innocently leaving the store with my purchase of yellow tees and turquoise bows, when there, sitting in the middle of the parking lot, was a giant blinged out barrette type thing. I picked it up, stood there awkwardly looking around for any sign of a human who had just departed the store and possibly dropped the item, saw none, considered bringing it back into the store, but decided instead that it was “Ruby Gets Free Bling Day.”

As I put my car into reverse, I notice a black car behind me that beeps at me. At first I think, “ahh, the bling owner is back and wants her shit. So I sit there patiently, waiting for some further contact. None comes. Then I figure, maybe the person assumed that I was going to reverse into them and were simply giving me a warning beep. So I continue on my way.

I get to the stop sign to exit the plaza, and the black car is behind me and beeps again. “Clearly, this is the bling owner, and they seriously want this shit.” So I stay stopped at the stop sign, waiting for them to approach me. I even wave to them. Nothing. Another car pulls up beside them, and they seem to be talking to each other. At this point, I figure I must be bling-paranoid, and clearly they were getting the attention of this other car, so I continue on my way once more.

No, I definitely wasn’t paranoid at all — I am now being chased down, horn a-blaring, high beams flashing on and off. I try speeding up, and they speed up right behind me. I try a last minute right turn onto a side street, they follow me. I even try slowing down in the right lane so that they can pull up beside me to approach me like a sane human, yet they prefer to simply slow down behind me and continue with the high beams.

For a moment, I considered continuing on, figuring that there’s no way they’ll keep following me for the next half hour over a tacky fucking rhinestone barrette. But then I realized, that would mean I actually gave a shit about this piece of crap, so I decided to put an end to this nonsense, and pulled over in a store parking lot up the road. I sat idling, really hoping that this person wasn’t as insane as their actions thus far had indicated and that they weren’t packing.

The driver gets out of her car, comes up to me and smiles and asks, as if this were a Grey fucking Poupon commercial, “did you by any chance pick up an item in the parking lot at the Michaels?” Are you frickin’ kidding me?? If you’re going to attempt to run someone off the road, you best be damn sure they picked up your item in the parking lot at Michael’s.

“Yeah,” I reply, “I did. I also pulled over and waited for you twice the first two times you beeped at me in that parking lot. You could’ve gotten out of your damn car and talked to me then instead of chasing me for over a mile,” (“you crazy bitch” was implied, but not said aloud).

She simply giggled and said something inane like, “oh, there was a car in the way!” or whatever. I have no idea. I’m pretty sure there was no good reason for any of this. Meanwhile, in her front passenger seat is another woman half-passed out, only opening her eyes occasionally, clearly not disturbed by any of this, as if Grey Poupon hunting is a pretty regular occurrence for her and her friend.

I handed over the trinket that couldn’t have cost more than $4 and tried my best to burn rubber out of that parking lot. Bitches be crazy. Lesson learned: cheap bling ain’t worth it — leave that shit on the ground, yo.

The Single Proudest Moment of my Career

This week brings me back to the Massachusetts corporate headquarters in order to attend one of our annual sales meetings. No, I’m not in sales. Why am I here? I don’t know. But I don’t complain; instead, I enjoy the nice dinners and open bars and try to stay out of trouble.

Today’s open bar event involved renting out a local tiki bar (yes, you read that right, a tiki bar in Massachusetts), and inviting the entire company to leave the office at 1:00 to come eat, drink, and cluster into cliques as if it were a high school dance.

The real height of the entertainment was well hidden in a tent around back of the bar’s stage area: a dunk tank. And just who were lining up to be the potential victims? VPs and upper management.

Our VP of Engineering was first to take the hot seat. He was quickly dunked by one of our service reps after some trash talking about said rep’s tiki-style hat. Next was my former boss, our VP of Operations. I decided to take a stab at it — no ill will toward her whatsoever, but I wasn’t forced into hardcore softball bootcamps twice a year as a child in order to stand on the sidelines at this opportunity. Sadly, it was three misses and on to the next contestant.

Several members of higher-ups later, and who decides to take the hot wet seat, but my current boss. Oh, it was on.

I sauntered up to the men’s throwing line. The ball fetcher tossed me two out of the three balls. As I waited for the third, someone yelled out, “she doesn’t need three!” I brushed the sand off the ball, took a good look at my target, felt a surge of Dark & Stormy confidence run through my veins, and…

Boom. Nailed it. Down went boss man. Splash.

I haven’t been this proud of myself since I fell down a half flight of stairs while holding a glass of sangria and managed not to spill a drop.

I just hope that my boss realizes it was all in good fun — I’ve been told that I get a look of abject hatred on my face as I line up a pitch. Whoops. I guess we’ll find out soon enough just where we stand at this evening’s open bar event.

Oh wait, one more

And I’ve put my house on the market.

So yeah, busy and stuff.

I’m Back

As I’m sure we all predicted, no, I never got around to blogging during the past week and a half. Sorries.

However, lest you think that time was spent wasted fruitlessly on naps or binge drinking, I assure you it was most productive. Here’s what I accomplished:

– Visited five states.

– Slept in four different beds.

– Drove over 20 hours.

– Had a panic attack in front of an entire company board.

– Ate a lot of cheese.

– Unwillingly made a new friend.

– Tweeted to RDU to fix my favourite bathroom stall door that’s been broken for over a year – they replied back that they would.

– Gained more Twitter followers for my Disney account (I’m up to 44 now!).

– Gained one more follower for my Disney blog (up to a whopping eight).

– Probably lost a bunch of followers here because I’ve ignored you all so long.

I’d promise to pay attention to you all more, make you feel loved, never leave you again, but it’s already looking like I’ll be back on the road for the next two weeks. Meanwhile, for the rest of this week, while I am home, Hank’s going to be gone. It’s just like a long distance relationship again, only this time I seem to have an 18 year old roommate.