When I was a kid I used to walk around the house with a t-shirt on my head, pretending I had Rapunzel-length hair. When I was 19 I decided that I was officially an adult who had everything figured out because of Ariel (Ariel declared she "wasn't a child anymore" and moved out at 16 but I knew I wasn't as savvy as her). And, apparently people look at you funny if you randomly burst into song. (Wearing ball gowns and tiaras on any day other than 10/31 is met with mixed results as well).
But the biggest lies Disney told me were about nature; I've been waiting 40 years for woodland creatures to help me clean. And two weeks ago my mother and I went to Ossining Riverfest to indulge in overpriced (but very good) wings, canned wine, and blue ice cream. Underneath the resplendence of an apricot sky (and cursing the band for singing the ABC's) a CREATURE appeared. Black, creepy and crawly it invaded MY personal space. Then ANOTHER ONE showed up. WHAT THE HELL WAS IT???? A cricket, according to my mom. A cricket?? A CRICKET?? Aren't crickets supposed to be chipper green beings that remind me to be a good person? I'm telling you, these interlopers were stressing me out and not inspiring me to be a good anything.
Argggh! God Damnit Disney! You got me again1
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