Welcome To Arizona! Come For The Weather, Stay For The Xenophobia!

Okay, so for those of you who watch ANY news whatsoever, it should come as no shock that my beloved Arizona has gotten a reputation as being…shall we say…flamingly racist.  While I understand why it looks like we’re all a bunch of backwoods hillbilly cretins most of the time, I feel I must defend my state’s honor.

To begin, it is a fact that almost no one over the age of 30 is actually FROM Arizona, and we are almost entirely populated by transplants from colder states, who came here for the weather, and promptly started complaining because our golf courses were too close to Mexico.  You know how everyone has that ONE embarrassing racist uncle, who screams about immigrants and thinks that Obama was born in Kenya?  Well, that guy got sick of Wisconsin winters or shoveling snow in Michigan, and moved his ass to Phoenix.  So the problem isn’t actually Arizonans, per se…it’s that we have a HUGE population of older, conservative transplants, who unfortunately vote religiously, and who are magnetically attracted to the candidate wearing the fanciest tinfoil hat.

Now, recently, we’ve gotten some attention, AGAIN, for yet another idiot who has taken to leading armed (and I’m talking automatic weapons, here) protests against Muslims at local mosques while wearing (and selling, because we can’t miss a sales opportunity) t-shirts that say things that I won’t repeat, but involve expletives that aren’t, shall we say, neighborly.  Once again, we get bad press, but what the national news doesn’t mention, is that he JUST moved here from California, so once again we get credit for a village idiot who wandered off from another state.  I do not want to give this asshole any MORE attention by mentioning his name, but Ryan and I call him, ‘The Ritz’.

Shockingly, as it turns out, pissing off one of Earth’s largest religions has consequences.  First it means that you will get thoroughly spanked, on national TV, by both Anderson Cooper and Philip Mudd, a former senior official with the FBI and CIA. Secondly, it means your family will have to go into hiding until things cool down.

Well, as it turns out, this idiot lives down the street from Ryan’s sister, Susan, so her entire block was curiously populated with a lot of unmarked paneled vans and dark windowed American sedans.  Because we’re naturally fascinated by this insanity, we have Susan sending us daily updates.

**And, yes, this conversation took place BEFORE Donald Trump’s asinine remarks about McCain.

 

Ryan: She just texted. The Ritz’ wife came back!  SHE ACTUALLY CAME BACK!

Me: There is no way she did that of her own volition. He must be blackmailing her.  She must have killed a drifter or a United States Senator, or something.

Ryan: Has anyone actually seen John McCain lately?

Me: Real McCain?  Or amazingly lifelike, animatronic McCain?

Ryan: I’m pretty sure The Ritz is keeping that McCain in his garage.

Me: What’s he doing with it!?

Ryan: Well, you know how lonely he must have been when he was in hiding with his wife gone…robot McCain was his only comfort.

Me: I wonder what robot McCain’s O-Face looks like.

Ryan: …

Me: What?

Ryan: That’s the sound of me becoming impotent.

The Happiest Place On Earth Is Now Anywhere With Ibuprofen And Beer

There is NO INTERPRETIVE DANCE allowed on Thunder Mountain Railroad.

In case some of you thought I was dead somewhere (hoping, I daresay), I was merely on Spring Break with my family.  After fooling my kids into thinking they were going to Prescott, AZ with my mother, with the car packed, we revealed the truth…that we were taking them to Disneyland. As exciting as Prescott is, I’m sure you can imagine, they were thrilled at the change in plans.

Because I’m exhausted, have to work today (already!?), and everything hurts…I’ll just share a quick summary of Le Disney.

1. Nothing looks as smug as the faces of people passing you in the Fast Pass line.  Oh, yeah…well, I’ve got a pocket-full of California Screamin’ tickets set to ripen in a 10 minutes…then we’ll see who’s smug.

2. The Indiana Jones ride…has a posted height requirement…but should actually have a support bra requirement.  Seriously, it’s like Girls on Trampolines in there.  The happiest place on Earth?  The security office for that ride, watching the footage.

3. There’s a subtle line between making your children the center of your life, and teaching them that they’re the center of the known universe. Annnnd I saw that line crossed, on the daily.

4. I don’t care how many Mickey-shaped beignets you just ate…  Thou shall not joke about cocaine use at Disneyland.  Apparently, that joke doesn’t go over well in the Magic Kingdom.

5. I’m probably in the vacation photos of a million strangers, but only 4 of my own.  Yes, family from Indiana, that is me, and yes, that was my third churro…don’t fucking judge.

6. My daughter can spot a “famous Vine-r” from 50 paces away, but doesn’t know who Angie Harmon is, when she’s standing 10 feet away.  (She’s lovely by the way, and her daughters are insanely beautiful…shocker.)

7. On every ride this happened…

Cast member: “Have a great ride!”

Caolinn: “You, too!”

*facepalm*

8. You know those cameras, where they snap a picture of you, mid-ride?  After looking like a mental patient in 30 of them, this is what happens.

Now, back to work.  Grumble, grumble.

Nothing Worse Than A Hooker Who’s Poor With Details

So what happens when a prostitute (name: Ciara…so the orgasms aren’t the only thing she’s faking), accidentally screws up her OWN phone number by one digit, on a Craig’s List ad…sending dozens of men to text my friend, Malka, the CPA and mother of two?

 

She better give her husband every sex act these guys are asking for, just for agreeing to let her use this picture for this purpose.

 

And this is why I love my friends.

Confession: I was actually jealous…I would have had so much fun with this, that I wouldn’t even have tried to correct the error.  *I* am a terrible person.

(Sean Smithson…I thought about you with every forwarded ping.)