March 28, 2006
I Am Jasmine's Hero
You may be wondering, "So why did a people-hating, crowd-phobic curmudgeon like Wenchie go to Disney World during spring break?"
And I have no good answer for you, except that that's when Boy Child and Girl Child were there, and I am their slave.
I touched on it a bit yesterday -- the screaming, garment-rending rage I felt being surrounded by a mass of humanity's barrel-scrapings. But... try as I may, I just can't find words strong enough to describe the murders I committed in my heart as I had to walk around the bajillionth cluster of people who decided to stop and read their map IN THE MIDDLE OF A DOORWAY OR BUSY WALKWAY!!!
*pant* *pant* *pant*
Okay. Regroup.
Rude people just make me want to smother them to death with their own spleen, and then smother them in BBQ sauce and eath them. And then digest them, and poop them out on the sidewalk in from of the Spears-Federline homestead, so Kevin could walk in it.
I can't think of a better punishment for rude assholes than being poop on the bottom of K-Fed's shoe. Assuming the damn hillbilly is even wearing shoes that day. Poop twixt K-Fed's toes. Very fitting.
[Mom, Kevin Federline is married to Britney Spears, and he's Uber-White Trash. He's so trashy, he makes Britney look like Jackie O., for God's sake.]
[I feel it's very important to continue my mother's education.]
Anyhoo, I saw a pack of frat boys harassing Jasmine.
There were Jasmine and Aladdin in Epcot's Morocco, looking exotic and fabulous. And I must commend Disney for promoting a healthy body image for young women. Not only could you not see Jasmine's ribs, but she even had a tiny bit of belly -- just enough to be softly feminine.
She and Aladdin were signing autographs and taking pictures with little kids. There were probably a dozen lined up with their families. Off to the side were four frat boys. Clearly, they had been drinking their way through Epcot. Saki in Japan, tequila in Mexico, beer in Germany, sexual harassment in Morocco.
And it was such clever, clever harassment, too.
"Hey, Jasmine! Where's your little monkey? Can I touch your monkey? Wanna touch mine?"
Oh, bra-VO, Chett. Sure to make the ladies swoon. Belle will be green with envy.
So as Husband and I strolled by them, I said, casually yet loudly, "Wow -- harassing a woman who is contractually forbidden to defend herself. Real nice, guys."
And as soon as I started talking, Husband started walking very, very quickly. My hero.
Comments
oh, wenchie, I'm with you on that whole hating all of humanity thing. especially the whole "standing in the middle of everything to check the park map"
- it's like stopping your car on the Kennedy to change the radio station.
Posted by: heather at March 28, 2006 01:18 PM
Amateur. I would have asked to see her magic carpet.
Posted by: Marty at March 28, 2006 01:20 PM
I like Marty's miserable line better.
Although, still? Kinda pitiful.
Posted by: Queen of Ass at March 29, 2006 10:18 AM