It’s Disney World, they said; So what if it’s raining? they said; embrace your inner child and PLAY in the rain, it will be fun, they said!
I am virtually shaking my fist at every single one of you who told me the shit up above, there.
I won’t dress it up all fancy- I’m just gonna lay it out here on the table, all naked and vulnerable in spread-eagle position- I am a complainer. No ifs, ands, or buts about it- I complain. A lot. It doesn’t matter what it is- I can find a gripe with it. That doesn’t mean I always DO- but it is just a natural talent I have to find the shitty lining in everything; it’s on the underside of the silver one, duh.
Of course, in my own humble opinion- my complaining is humorous and not the kind that comes out of a pinched nose or sends back a soup for being 5 degrees too cold.
I ASKED FOR LUKEWARM, DAMNIT! THIS IS JUST LUKE!
No, I’m not quite that severe- but I do find a good old fashioned whine quite therapeutic at times. Isn’t complaining better than hauling off and thwacking your husband in the taint? Or a direct punt to the va-jay of some lady getting on your hormonally imbalanced nerves? Bail money can be hard to come by, y’all. Just remember that the next time someone tells you to “quit yer bitchin'” or calls you a whiner.
This doesn’t happen often- but I succumbed to peer pressure on our Disney trip last week. For the first time in THREE trips, it was a rainy humid MESS. I realize Disney World is in Florida, and Florida is a rainy place. I know this because not only have I been told a bajillion times, but because growing up, my Dad got transferred there every summer for his work and would take the whole family with him. Afternoon showers were commonplace.
I would call what we experienced in Disney a MONSOON. 70% of the time we were there, it rained. I do not like rain. Really, I don’t like weather in general- but I REALLY don’t like rain.
When I complained about the amount of rain coming down on us and the fact that we smelled like inner tubes and looked like giant condoms- I was told just to make the best of it. Embrace my inner child! Go with the flow! Have fun! It’s just rain, after all! Play in it! And I thought to myself- y’know, maybe for once my complaining is off-base a bit. We ARE in Disney World, the happiest place on earth- how can I be unhappy? I’m really nothing more than an overgrown child anyway, and I probably love Disney four times as much as the kids I claimed the trip was for… not to mention, it’s certainly better than being at home doing nothing- so I sucked it up, put on my body condom, and spent an entire day in the rain, getting pelted with random heavy downpours in the face, being splashed by turdy little kids jumping in every single puddle they came across, and general discomfort-
all with a smile most with a smile.
That night, when we got back to our hotel room, I realized I had made an error in judgment. My throat was scratchy, snot was pouring from my nose, and my head was POUNDING. This lasted for the rest of the trip, where it also rained, all the way home on the plane where my brain nearly exploded through my nose due to cabin pressure and had the attendants looking at me like I was a crazy lady because there was eyeliner smeared all over my face from crying like a little bitch- and now. I’m still sick, now- because I embraced my inner-child.
Learn from my mistake, people; my boogery, hacky, brain-exploding mistake- DO NOT EMBRACE YOUR INNER-CHILD! Don’t do it! You’re TOO OLD FOR THAT SHIT!
Allow me to expunge upon you some knowledge I picked up from this thing we call the internet (yes, you CAN actually learn things! Who’da thunk?)
“There’s a certain age where you can no longer use the term ‘Good Girl Gone Bad.’ It’s more like ‘Her old ass should know better.'”
“I’m too old to drop it like it’s hot, but I sure can squat it like it’s warm!”
Squat it like it’s warm people! Or deal with the plague!
Okay, I take some of that back. Absolutely embrace your inner-child (assuming that inner-child isn’t a raging asshole or sociopath.) Life is short- be immature as much as humanly possible- but do NOT play in the fucking rain; didn’t you get your fill of that when you were little? You’re not 10 anymore. You are old. I don’t care if you’re in your early 20s- you’re still old. And you have old joints, whether you want to believe it or not. Your metabolism isn’t what it once was- and dancing around like a moron in the rain, even if it’s at Disney World, WILL GET YOUR OLD ASS SICK!
If you must, use protection. A body condom AND an umbrella. Otherwise you’ll get pregnant and have booger babies. Tissue is like diapers- expensive when you’re blowing through them like crazy. And all that blowing isn’t gonna make you any money like it would a hooker.
Accept the old. Wrap it up. Carry on!
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
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WHY WOULD I LIE pic.twitter.com/kEmQYtl1mi