October 2, 2002

• I assure you that no animals (fictional or otherwise) were hurt in the making of my blog. 

  
  

  Which brings me to an important point: nothing in my blog ought to be taken seriously.  It is difficult to convey sarcasm through this medium, but I hoped that using CAPITALS, italics, emoticons and action descriptions (like, *eye roll*) would help. Apparently, that doesn’t work for everyone.  So let me make it clear:  I didn’t really go to Disney World last week just to seek revenge on the Duck, my dream isn’t really to become a wrestling ho, and I haven’t really accidentally flashed strangers on the Metro.  Oh wait . . . that last one is true.  

  
  

  I tried to find the Duck. Really.  But I wasn’t really going to kick his pantless, kiddie porn lovin’ arse – that would have been too traumatic for the little kids to see.  Instead, I was hoping to get a picture of the Duck on his knees (no dirty remarks, please), begging me for forgiveness.  I had pictures of me posing with every other Disney character except for the Duck.  He was nowhere to be found.  On the last day, I asked Guest Services where I could find him. They told me his last appearance would be after the 4:40 show at Cinderella’s Castle.  When I asked one Disney employee about Donald’s whereabouts, she gave me a confused look and asked, “Donald?” I guess it was presumptuous of me to think the Duck and I were on a first-name basis.  Well, the Duck was in the show, but unlike all the other characters that gave autographs afterwards, I guess the Duck had better things to do than pose for pictures.  Oh well, maybe in another twenty-three years . . .

  
  

  Of course, no vacation is complete without an unintentional flashing episode.  
  
  I wore pants to the park one day, but after less than an hour in the 90-degree heat, I realized that was a huge mistake. Oddly, while the Disney stores were bursting with t-shirts, they didn’t have any shorts.  I managed to find a pair of men’s cotton boxers that didn’t look too much like underwear (no bubble butt).  I was much cooler in the boxers, but more self-conscious.  The “peephole” of the boxers had one tiny button that did little to keep them closed. While I walked around the park, I tried to use my hand to keep the flap closed until my sister accused me of playing with myself in public.  

  
  

  I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the cab driver that picked me up at the airport on Monday.  He was rather chatty.  Initially, the conversation consisted of typical stuff – the weather, my vacation, blah, blah, blah.  Then he handed me two sheets of paper.  “Read my poems, yes?”  he asked.  There were two typewritten poems — one about love, the other about death.  The first line of the love poem was, “My eyes was only love you.”  I remember this because he asked me to read his poems OUTLOUD.  Heck, I did Forensics in high school, so I did the best dramatic reading of Mr. Weirdo Cab Driver’s poetry that I could.  He seemed pleased.  “What do you think of my poems?” he asked. I never know how to evaluate poetry.  There are so many different styles, how can one judge whether a poem is good or not?  “They’re great!” I said.  I hated to point out the grammatical errors because he seemed so proud of his work. 

  
  

  “Ah!” he replied excitedly, “So now I say I have a fan of my poems in DC!” I asked him how many other people he’s let read his poems and he said I was the only one so far.  “To what do I owe this honor?” I asked.  He said that he didn’t know really, but that he just felt the need to share them with me.  Ohhhhhkaaay.  That was the weirdest cab ride I’ve ever had.  Thankfully, I only live a few minutes from the airport. 

  
  

  I suppose you are wondering what happened with the Stone Cold doll.  Following the suggestions of many of you, I attached – er, I mean, the Dollnapperz attached – the following picture to their third demand letter:  

  
  

  

  
  

  
  The plan was to return the doll to Bryan while I was on vacation. Of course, Bryan knew that I was the one behind the dollnapping, but I thought it would be funny for some doll activity to occur while I was out of town so I could claim that I had an alibi.  Well, Owen — the co-worker I entrusted with the doll during my vacation — thought it would be amusing to claim that I – er, I mean, the Dollnapperz – never gave him the doll.  In fact, he almost had me convinced that he accidentally shipped doll to a client in Texas. 

  
  

  I suspected it was a joke, but I wasn’t sure.  Well, it was a joke. Owen thought it would be funnier to return the doll back to Bryan and make me think that I had lost the doll.  Unfortunately, this means that there will be no more funny Stone Cold pictures to put in my blog.    But this is NOT over!  Here’s the email I sent out to my coworkers this morning:

  
  

  
  

  Well, after a harrowing day yesterday, it has been revealed to me that the Stone Cold doll – I mean, action figure – has been safely returned to Bryan. I must commend those of you who had me convinced that Owen accidentally shipped the document box containing the doll to a client in Texas.  Funny joke.  Funny, EXPENSIVE joke. 

  
  

  You see, I felt terribly guilty about losing Bryan’s precious dolly.  I went in search of a replacement.  Unfortunately, while there are plenty of plastic 7″ Stone Cold dolls still around, the 12″ posable dolls are no longer manufactured.  Moreover, now that Stone Cold is no longer in the WWE, the 12″ dolls are now collector’s items.  I managed to find a replacement doll on eBay for $75. Oddly, no one else beat my minimum bid and I won the auction.  

  
  

  I am sure that anyone who was involved in this latest episode will be willing to donate some $$ to defray the costs of acquiring Stone Cold II.  

  
  

  Ha, ha.

  
  

  Danielle 

  
  

  If you haven’t figured out where I’m going with this, you’ll just have to wait. 

  • 11:44 am
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