The Fourth Day of Christmas

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a Disney movie full of princesses. I was an innocent lamb led to slaughter. “You need help with that sofa mister?” “Yeah, thanks. Do you wear about a size 14?”. It puts the lotion on it’s skin or it gets the hose again. I was led to believe that Disney’s “Frozen” was a movie about wildlife interaction in the wilderness in some sort of arctic region of the world. Nope, princesses right up the ass. Lots of singing. Some bizarre character that was a snowman but with a grotesque misshapen cock of a carrot nose. So instead of watching what I thought was a movie about Medieval battles and shit, it was basically princess intrigue with the requisite love stories written at a kindergartener’s level. Disney 1, Dad 0. Wait, I paid for 3 tickets. Disney 3, Dad 0. Nevermind, the fallout from this movie will surely include a purchase of, at minimum, both princesses, Elsa and Anna. Disney 5, Dad 0. My world is slowly but surely degenerating into a quagmire of princesses and pink shit, often at the intersection of both.

I want to file a false advertising suit against Disney for the previews I saw on TV. You just didn’t see this Princessapalooza happening until you’d paid your money and it was actually happening. My wife had the balls to say, and is stubbornly maintaining while insulting my intelligence, “I just didn’t know that movie was going to be about princesses!” Listen, this is starting to walk a fine line that ends in domestic holiday violence, so cut the shit. You pulled one over on me and you both win. I’m paying $Infinity,000,000 for some Elsa and Anna dolls whose tiny plastic hands were forged by tiny Chinese child slave labor this holiday season, and there isn’t a goddamn thing I or 20 beers can do about it. Just don’t mock me to my fucking face with this “Awww shucks, I didn’t know it was about princesses” horseshit. I need to start rolling everywhere I go with a hip flask of whiskey because this princess business is going to be a long row to hoe.

I will say this for Disney: They may be creating generations of young girls with body dysmorphia issues, but their princesses are bringing it ! When Elsa the “Ice Queen” decides she’s tired of hiding her powers to turn all living things to ice and is about to start living her life on YOLO terms, she straight up STUNS mutherfuckers with a body that any Victoria’s Secret model would be happy to parade around in stringy undies. Her sister Anna, though representing the goofy, tomboyish end of the sister spectrum, was certainly no Teva sandaled, flannel-shirt wearing Indigo Girls fan. She might have been a step below Elsa the Ice Queen, but it was a very short step. Disney knows what the fuck is what. They don’t care that they’re selling to 7 year olds, they’re gonna sex that shit up. So on the 4th day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a Disney movie full of princesses. Which of course works perfectly with

A puking but wild toddler
A 2-day hangover at age 35 and an
Arctic blast right up the ass

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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