I Heart My Little A-Holes (16 page)

Oh hello anatomically correct doll that should never have been created. Here are a few things I think about you:

1. There’s one thing and one thing only that plastic penises should be made for. And a baby doll ain’t it.

2. Can’t you totally hear the conversation when they were designing this doll?

DESIGNER 1: Whatta you think? Circumcised?

DESIGNER 2: Nahhh, I was thinking he should have that straight-out-of-the-womb look.

DESIGNER 1: Bloody and covered in a cheese-like substance?

DESIGNER 2: Gross, no. I just meant uncircumcised.

DESIGNER 1: But isn’t it healthier if it’s snipped?

DESIGNER 2: Dude, it’s a plastic doll.

DESIGNER 1: Good point. Uncircumcised it is.

3. Look at that itty bitty ballsack (ball sac??? ball sack??? The Internet spells it like 9 different ways). I can’t help but be a little jealous of this baby’s mom who doesn’t have to hire a crane operator to lift his scrotum (insert heebie jeebies emoticon here) out of the way when she changes a nasty poopie diaper.

4. If they were going for realistic, shouldn’t it be erect the way they are like 90% of the time when you’re changing them?

5. So most dolls just have a weird smooth, hill-like area where the genitalia should be, kind of like a faceless mannequin. Totally weird, but for some reason this attempt to make a plastic baby penis is even more disturbing. I know the Supreme Court is busy, but can’t they just take like five minutes and write a law that says all plastic dolls must be wearing painted on underwear?

6. I’ll bet a plastic penis is so much easier to clean than a skin one. And that it doesn’t get those gross hairs wrapped around it sometimes that make you feel like a pedophile while you’re picking them off.

7. If I wanted a plastic penis, I’d go to Times Square, not my kid’s toy box.

Guess I should have given hubby a BJ after all. Look who I found in our bed this morning. And she soooo has sex hair.

So a couple of months ago I decided it was probably time for Zoey to have her first dentist appointment. I know she was supposed to start at age three, but A. I’ve been busy, and B. she’s going to lose those stupid teeth one day anyway so why waste a lot of time on them when she pretty much gets a do-over at age six, and C. WTF is a dentist going to do for a three-year-old besides charge us a boatload of money?

I know every dentist and hygienist (damn, that’s a hard word to spell) reading this wants to jump through the F’ing page and beat the crap out of me for saying that, so I’m sorry. I promise that if I win the lottery or find an oil well in our backyard, I will take Holden to the dentist when he’s three.

Anyways, I’m looking at dentists online and their pictures are popping up when Zoey walks in.

ZOEY: Who’s that?

ME: I’m looking for a dentist for you.

ZOEY: I want one that looks like a princess.

Ummm, yeah, that is exactly what you should look for in a dentist, kiddo. Good looks. Not where they went to school or how close is their office or whether they’re open on weekends. Nope, looks are definitely first priority. Although truth be told, I was intentionally looking at the pictures because I wanted to find someone who’s not a dinosaur and going to retire in like three years. But okay, I’ll start looking for one that looks more like Rapunzel or Ariel.

Do you know where she gets this shit? Yeah, you know. Dis to the Mother-F’ing Ney. Uhhh, sorry, that’s like my lame attempt at being cool and totally doesn’t make sense. Yeah, Disney has single-handedly taught my kiddo that being good-looking is like the be-all end-all.

Like the other day I was reading one of those Little Golden books to Zoey about Beauty and the Beast. Ahhh, it actually is such a beautiful story. This totally hot-to-trot, book-loving bittie falls in love with this guy who looks like he needs a nose job, a wax job and a visit to the chiropractor. She falls in love with him for everything he is on the inside. And then when he’s dying, she kisses him and says I love you and she saves his life with her undying love. Awesome. Amazing. Shedding a tear. End of story. Ennhhh, wrong.

Nooo, Disney can’t leave it there. God forbid someone isn’t good-looking in one of their stories. So at the end of the book Mr. Beast suddenly transforms into a runway model (although not half as good-looking as Flynn Rider if you ask me). I actually thought about ripping this last page out of the book, but then the page before it would be gone too and the story would end with Gaston plunging a knife into the Beast’s back. And Gaston’s an F’ing asshole so I’m not giving him the pleasure.

And this Disney crap doesn’t stop with Beauty and the Beast. The other day I was reading about Merida, you know the princess from Brave who’s like the only normal princess. I mean that’s the kind of girl I’d like to shoot the shit with over a margarita. The kind of girl who’s not perfect and takes like 9,000 hours to straighten her hair sometimes. I’d be like, “Heyyy, did you straighten your hair? It looks good,” and she’d be like, “Yeah, I got it blown out the other day at my haircut so I haven’t showered in like 6 days or else it’ll get all frizzy again.”

Anyways, I was reading the other day that Disney is changing her to look more like a sexpot. Her shirt is cut lower, her hair is lustrous curls instead of a frizzy mess, and either she’s wearing a corset or she went on the Atkins diet because just a couple of weeks ago her waist was like two inches bigger. You know what I would like to see just once? A Disney princess whose weight yo-yos like a normal person.

ARIEL: What up Cinderella, have you been working out?

CINDERELLA: Uh-huh, I’m doing that PX-90 workout. It’s awesome, but I have to stop since I pulled my hammy yesterday and now I’m totally gonna gain it all back.

So yeah, apparently Merida wasn’t sexpotty enough (hmmm, sexpotty. I wonder if Kohler makes one of those), so they’ve brought her from like a four up to like an eight. Let’s face it, Merida, you’ll never be a Jasmine.

But it’s shit like this that’s making my daughter want the dentist she sees for ten minutes a year to look like a princess.

So you’re probably wondering what I did. Well, first I explained to her that it doesn’t matter what your dentist looks like, or anyone for that matter, while she looked at me like I was INSANE IN THE BRAIN. So you know what I did? I called the ugliest dentist I could find. Not. Sadly I pictured her going to the dentist for the first time and FREAKING THE SHIT OUT and digging her claws into me as I pinned her down to the chair as the homely dentist held her mouth open with a vice grip or some shit like that. Fine, whatever, let’s make this trip as easy as possible. So I called the only pretty female dentist I could find in the area. Guess who’s going on maternity leave and not coming back.

So I did what any sane mother would do. I found the one who looked most like a prince. Why hello, Dr. Hotty Hot Pants. Holy crap, talk about irony—her dentist is total eye candy. So as he examined Zoey, I examined his face, and his ass, and his biceps. And I prayed he’d come over after and examine my mouth. With his tongue. You know, because looks don’t matter.

Holy crap, have you ever been to a Disney on Ice show? Me neither. Wait, no, that’s a total lie. I was just too embarrassed to admit it. It’s basically hell on earth only it’s really cold.

DUMBASS ME: Heyyyy, I’ll bet Zoey would LOVE Disney on Ice. I’m going to spend 9 million dollars and buy some tickets.

SHIT FOR BRAINS HUBBY: Great idea, but aren’t there any cheap seats?

DUMBASS ME: Those are the cheap seats.

So I bought the tickets and was so excited I told Zoey about it right away.

DUMBASS ME: Guess where we’re going?!

ZOEY: Where?!

DUMBASS ME: Disney on Ice!

ZOEY: Yippppppeeeeee! I’m going to get my shoes on!

Whoopsies.

DUMBASS ME: Uhhh, it’s not ’til Feburary.

Are we going today? Are we going today? Are we going today? Are we going today? Are we going today? Are we going today? Are we going today? Times 180 until 6 months later when it was finally time to go.

Oh my Zoey, you look absolutely amazingly adorable in your gorgeous dress-up gown THAT’S NOT EVEN ONE OF THE F’ING DISNEY PRINCESSES!!! Are you shitting me? I told her she could wear a princess dress and this is the one she chose?! Here are the Disney dresses we own: Snow White, Rapunzel, Belle, Belle, Belle (that’s not a typo, we actually own three Belle dresses), Minnie Mouse, Dorothy, Merida, and Ariel. But she chose to wear some giant ball gown someone sent us that’s sure to take up two seats at the show. And there goes her chance of being picked out of the audience to stand on the stage with the princesses. Not that I really wanted that. But I kinda secretly did. And how the F am I supposed to clean that thing if she gets $12 snow cone on it? I shit you not, I paid $12 for ice.

So anyways, we’re sitting there in the audience when the lights went down and the music started. Now I have a confession to make. A big one. Worse than admitting that I like the Bachelorpad. Worse than admitting that I have hair on my toes. Worse than admitting that sometimes I stand in front of the mirror topless and lift my arms to see what my boobs used to look like.

Okay, here goes. I cry at everything Disney. Yeah yeah yeah, I know that sometimes I paint myself as this heartless, cynical bitch, but really I am the person who tears up on
It’s a Small World
at DisneyWorld. It’s mortifying. I cry the moment I see Cinderella’s castle. I cry the second I hear Aladdin’s
A Whole New World
. Hell, I even cry when the pilot announces, “Welcome to Orlando.” So I expected to be a bawling hot mess by the middle of Disney on Ice.

And then the show began. And here’s what was going through my head. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, wait I’m not gonna cry because this is stupid as shit. Umm, these skaters kind of suck ass. I mean I wasn’t expecting Olympics level skating but maybe a little bit. And holy crap, Aladdin just dropped Jasmine on her face! Okay, I’m kind of crying in pain if that counts.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the grand finale happened. You know how at the end of a July 4
^th
celebration there’s an onslaught of fireworks? Disney on Ice was the same thing, only it was an explosion of princesses. I shit you not. It was like the curtain was projectile-vomiting every Disney princess you can imagine. Cinderella, Snow White, Tiana, Jasmine (with a bandage on her face), Ariel, Aurora, Etcetera (ahhh, wasn’t Etcetera the most beautiful princess of all?).

They were all spinning around the ice with their princes to the song
Someday my Prince Will Come
, and while usually I would be tearing up right now and blowing my nose into an overused crusty snot rag, I started to have a totally different feeling— holy crap, this is bullshit.
Someday my prince will come?
Sitting there next to my daughter I wanted to stand up and scream, “Yo, Disney, are you F’ing kidding me?! This is the crap we want to teach our daughters?!!!”