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

There is NO INTERPRETIVE DANCE allowed on Thunder Mountain Railroad.

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!”


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.

Dear White Supremacist On the Corner of 27th and Northern,



While the rest of us realize that, yes, it is hotter than the surface of the sun…we citizens, collectively, would like you to consider putting your shirt back on. Yes, you spent a tremendous amount of money on your ink, or at least traded a few cartons of ciggies for that wonderous “White Pride” one on your back, but honestly, how much warmer were you with that stained tanktop, I see you holding? Perhaps, you were displeased with the way that the frayed hem covered the 10″ Bowie knife you have holstered on the back of your denim cut-offs? As a point of curiosity, were you planning on trekking into the Amazon sometime after you left the Smokes-4-Less? I would certainly hope so, because, I know this neighborhood…and even the preschoolers are more heavily armed than you are.

Before I bid you adieu, one last thought… While I understand that you feel that you are superior to all those pesky non-white folks, you should note that you are, in fact, walking in a neighborhood that is less “white-meth-head”, and more, shall we say…colorful, so maybe skedaddle back to the Juggalo Club House before someone requests that you demonstrate your “supremacy”.

Bright Copper Kettles and Whiskers On Kittens!


P.S. If you are an example of a superior race, then we are all so unbelievably fucked, and not, remotely, in a good way.