I just snatched a tiny moth right out of the air with my bare hand. Does that make me a ninja? I’m pretty sure that makes me a ninja. Regardless: Look the hell out, moths.
Another day, another NaBloPoMo post in juuuuust under the wire. Honestly, my brain is so full from trying to prep for my forthcoming nine-day Disney World excursion that there really isn’t room for anything else. And as fascinating as it is to me, I don’t believe that the internet at large would be interested in my obsessive, artisinal trip-crafting. If anything, they would find it alarming. As all sane people should. But know this, mysterious reader: When you do Disney with me, it is the best Disney you’ll ever have. Awwww yeeeeaaaah.
Weird, semi-related tangent: I was not a big fan of that whole 40 Days of Dating blog for a whooooole lot of reasons, most having to do with both participating parties being utterly insufferable, but the thing that ended up galling me the most? Was finding out that when they went on their grand finale weekend trip to Disney World, they straight up cut in line. Neither had ever been before (as adults, at least; he went once as a kid), so when they got there and found out about FastPass, they decided that using it the normal way — where you get a pass and come back later — was not for them. Instead, they’d enter through the regular line, then jump the railings into the FastPass line, and when they got to the checkpoint where they needed to hand over their paper FastPasses, the girl would pretend she lost them between there and the FastPass checkpoint at the start of the line and the guy would pretend to get all pissed at her and then to avoid a scene the poor cast member would just wave them through. And to me, that perfectly encapsulates the asshole-ish “my experience is more special and more important than anybody else’s because I am intrinsically better and more special and more important than everyone around me and therefore I am an exception to any rules” mentality typical not only of those two self-involved douche-cannons, but of an entire subset of our current population. Yes, you carefully-dressed, meticulously-image-crafted scamps, because you didn’t understand how FastPass worked until you got there you can just go ahead and jump in front of all the poor morons who planned ahead and politely followed protocol. I mean, stupid them for conforming, right? And besides, don’t they know who you are??
John and Jane Skinnyjeans are pretty sure their lives are the most consequential things in the history of time itself, so naturally no one will mind waiting a little longer for that new Little Mermaid ride if it helps to ensure that our frolicking protagonists get to do whatever they want, whenever they want, reducing anyone and everyone around them to mere extras in their blockbuster romantic-comedy, probably directed by Michel Gondry or Marc Webb or some other interchangeable white guy. God forbid we think of the humans around us as fully-formed, nuanced beings just as deserving as we are of a pleasant experience/day/vacation/life. Besides, the Mermaid thing’s not that great a ride anyway. I mean, have you seen what they’re doing with audio-animatronics and environmental-immersion in the Tokyo parks? America’s totally getting the shaft.