January 27, 2011

Happily Never After

Hey, you know how the sequel is never as good as the original movie or book or fairy tale or whatever? Well, this is no different. The plot is contrived, the characters are rehashed, and the acting is hollow. However, it may win an award for make-up and costuming because the star looks FABULOUS!

When we last left Princess Wenchie, she had thrown off the accursed shackles of enslavement and sashayed into the sunset in search of her own destiny. But destiny is a son-of-a-bitch, and the PhDragon isn't the only weird-ass thing in the forest.

The first town Wenchie happened upon was a lovely place called Sabbatical. It had plenty of book stores and chocolate stores and free wi-fi, so she took a room at a charming little inn. At some point, she planned to get a job at the local bakery or milliner. But for the foreseeable future, she was quite content singing to wishing wells, entertaining suitors for her hand, and feeding breadcrumbs the mermaids down by the pond.

One day, Wenchie was out for a stroll and came upon a creek in the forest. There was a stone bridge for crossing, but when she stepped foot on it, there came a terrible -- and strangely familiar -- voice from underneath.

"Good afternoon, pretty princess. How odd that we should run into one another so far from the castle."

It was HR Troll #2! Wenchie nearly crapped her bloomers!

"What do you want? Why have you followed me?"

"I missed you, dear one. We've ALL missed you. Why, the Queen herself sent me to find you and bring you back to the castle... for a six month contract."

"You're kidding."

"No! She asked for you special!"

"What happens after the six months?"

"Who can say? Perhaps she will keep you on forever. Perhaps she will cast you aside in favor of another. I'm a troll, not a wizard!"

"No. I won't be a slave anymore! Leave me!"

"Who said anything about slavery? The Queen would pay you, my dear. And pay you well!"

"How well?"

"A treaure chest of gold and silver!"

"How big of a ch-- oh, why am I even listening to you?! Be gone, foul temptress!"

"Fine. But this offer is only good until midnight tomorrow. After that... um..."

"I turn into a pumpkin?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

And Wenchie fled back to her cozy room at the inn. There, she flung herself on her bed, weeping woefully, her dainty teardrops glistening prettily on her long, sooty lashes.

"Oh, pity me, cold universe! Cast your soulless, uncaring eyes down upon this clueless princess! What the fuck am I to do?"

*ribbit*

Wenchie looked up to find a tiny toad sitting on the windowsill by her bed. It seemed to look right at her.

*ribbit*

"Tell me, little toad, are you, by chance, an enchanted amphibian, come to save me from my conundrum, in exchange for turning you back into a handsome prince?"

"Well, yes and no," replied the toad. "I am enchanted, but I'm not a prince."

"Huh. Well, whatever. What is your sage advice, o wisened froggie?"

"A chest of silver and gold is nothing to sneeze at. They must really want you, or they would have just pulled some scullery maid from the kitchen to do the job. That counts for something, even if it isn't the guarantee of ever after that is your heart's desire."

"Go on."

"The bottom line is this. Even if they do screw you over and banish you from the land in six months, at least, when you are job hunting, the most recent thing on your resumé will be a very pretigious position, and you can begin negotiations by telling prospective employees that your previous boss gave you a chest of shiny, precious coins."

"That does make sense. Could it be that they've finally realized my worth, and are truthful about not knowing what the future looks like?"

"I don't know. I'm an enchanted toad, not a wizard. Now pucker up; we have a deal."

Wenchie pursed her glossy lips and leaned forward, wondering what her future husband would be. Blacksmith? Woodsman? Mason? She kissed the tiny toad, and *POOF* From a cloud of smoke and glitter emerged... a young, pretty Korean lady.

"Hi! I'm Padawan."

"Wow. Not what I expected," Wenchie admitted.

"Yeah, well, if this fairy tale has a moral, it's that the world never fails to surprise."

"I hates morals."

"I know. How do you feel about lattés?"

So the two checked out of the inn and shopped every store and market on the road to the castle. After all, a prestigious, new position warrants a fabulous, new wardrobe.

God save the Queen.

Posted at 06:59 AM | Comments (2)

January 24, 2011

The Bushas & the Beasts

Now, maybe it's because I have a weird sense of humor, or maybe it's because my Mother was born with a wicked streak that was just never properly cultivated, but My Mother has always been the most unintentionally hilarious person I know.

Growing up, she'd say something that would crack me up, and then she would roll her eyes and say, completely deadpan, "Wenchie, I was put on this earth to amuse you."

Hence this missive from her earlier this month, as I neared my final day of enslavement:

I was thrilled to hear that you'd be among the "retired" people in a very short time. I am having a glorious time planning things for us to do.

First, we will have to brave the frigid temperatures and take leisurely stroll through the park and see how much"nature" we can see. Birds, bugs, etc. and we can make a list to talk about later.

I'm sure we'll also run into some Bushas with their cute, little grandbabies, wrapped in 6 blankets and with 4 scarves around their skinny necks. We can't converse with them, but we shall all smile weirdly. If it is above freezing, we can bring a picnic lunch and knock the ice off the tables and sit back and watch the wonders around us.

Maybe there will be some interesting movies playing in town, but nothing with swear words -- cause you know how I feel about that.

I have to lots spare time lately, still convalescing from having a section of my body replaced. If I don't hear from you before the spring, I shall conclude that this is not quite up-your-alley.

Love to the Husband and the Beasts, Mommie Dearest

Yeah, nothing with swear words because you know how she feels about that! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! And yet, she reads my blog!

My favorite part is about the Bushas, which is perhaps Polish for grandma, or maybe she just made it up. "We shall all smile weirdly." BWAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

(By the way, the section of Mom's body that was replaced was her shoulder. She's got a six-inch scar, so she is a total badass now. Also? She's a CYBORG! Husband's ex-mother-in-law, whom he remains close to, recently broke her femur and had a metal plate put in to reinforce the break. This is in addition to the metal rod she already had in her arm. I pitched a reality t.v. show to Husband called "Battling Bionic Bushas," starring Mom and his former M.I.L., but he thought it might be in poor taste.)

Anyhoo, I wrote back to her:

Oh my gosh! I almost peed myself reading this! You are hilarious! You KNOW this is going in my blog, Mom! I can't stop laughing! Can we also go to the Pancake House and sit in a booth for three hours, drinking coffee and complaining about the government, and then leave a crappy tip?

Her reply:

I was so glad to hear from you. You do remember that I always told you girls that I was put on this earth to make you laugh, so I hope I can continue to do that for many years to come.

I don't think we can go to the Pancake House and talk about government cause I'm not exactly sure what that is. But a raspberry scone and some flavored coffee will do just fine.

Love to All. Mommie Dearest

By "Love to All," I can only assume she meant YOU, beloved readers. Mark this date on the calendar: Mom addresses her public for the first time!

Posted at 08:19 AM | Comments (1)

January 06, 2011

Happy Ending

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Wenchie. Like Belle, she loved to read and sing. Like Sleeping Beauty, she loved to nap. Like Rapunzel, she had long, lush hair. Like Tinkerbell, she was jealous and vindictive. In short, she was the very best of all princesses, wrapped into one package... and sprinkled with the fairy dust of Snow White's Evil Stepmother the Queen.

Now, because this is the Cliff Notes version of this fairy tale, I will not recount the many and various trials that Princess Wenchie went through in her search for bliss. Suffice to say that there were two trolls, a dragon named PhD, and a champion. And if you're new and need more back story than that, click here for a great way to waste an entire day of your life that you'll never get back.

When we last left our heroine, she was down to single digits in her Countdown to Freedom, i.e. the day the magic spell would be lifted and Wenchie freed from indentured servitude. As of her return from her extended holiday vacation, she had but nine risings and settings of the sun remaining.

As you may recall, Wenchie had tried many, many times to escape the clutches of the enchanted cubicle that held her prisonor, to no avail. The invisible bonds of the spell were much too strong, and every time she thought she had found the right magic to defeat them, she was only clutched tighter to the bosom of the beast.

Tuesday began like any other day. Wenchie rose to do her chores before sunrise, and then the little forest creatures dressed her, brushed her long, lush hair, and the birdies applied her make-up with their soft, tiny wings. (Except for the finches because they're always too heavy with the eyeliner.)

Upon arriving in the dungeon, an HR Troll slithered into Champion's quarters, upon his request, for a closed-door chat. Upon emerging from said meeting, Champion approached Wenchie's cube -- cape fluttering and eyes twinkling.

"Can you work two more weeks, through the end of January?" he asked quietly.

Her senses dulled by the spell he wove, Wenchie nodded and agreed, thereby sealing her fate, dooming her to yet another extension of her sentence. The prize she so desparately sought -- the prize of freedom -- was again moved out of her reach. Her eyes glazed over as she tried to pretend to be happy to be earning one more paycheck, but deep in her heart, she was miserable.

A dark cloud hung over Wenchie. She couldn't sleep. She turned down chocolate. Slowly, a plan began to form in her charm-addled brain. What if she was just like that blind idiot Dorothy? What if she, all along, had held the power to leave...? How fucking annoying! I hate it when fairy tales (or The Simpsons) have an obvious moral!

Summoning all her strength, Wenchie crept into the dragon's lair and cried, "I'm not staying another two weeks! My future does not lie within these walls! I am leaving to find my destiny!"

To her shock, the dragon did not breath fire at her or rip her to shreds with his talons. He merely nodded his grotesque, scaly head and looked at her with resignation, and even a little begrudging respect. He removed the enchanted shackles from her ankles and let her go.

Next, Wenchie went to the throne room and told her Champion, "Look, thanks for your repeated efforts to save me, but I don't need to be rescued anymore. I'm going to rescue myself. Starting at 4:00 p.m. on Friday the 14th. Farewell, and thanks for all the porridge."

And she lived...

~ HaPPiLY ~

~ eVeR ~

~ aFTeR! ~

Posted at 08:54 AM | Comments (2)