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