What I Did On Vacation, Part Two

Okay. So. I promised pictures. But let me say first, I adore Disney. I do. It's a magical place. And frankly, it is the only place where I am allowed to walk around in my light-up tiara and people will bow to me for doing so. I do. I love it.

It's just. You know. You see stuff. Stuff that you wish you hadn't seen. Stuff like...

this...


or this...



(Um, yeah. And she meant it too. She had six kids with her. Yeah. All under the age of maybe 8.)

or this...





(But then, I could have just been jealous too. His tiara was pretty sweet, even if it didn't blink like mine.)

or especially this...




(Now don't get me wrong. Two grown men want to dress as superheroes, fine. It's the fact that their costumes WERE NOT LINED. Go. Look. Especially the one on the right. You could see...stuff. It's just, I don't want to be exposed to intimate views of their dangly stuff, even the dangly stuff of complete strangers. I just don't.)

And of course, you see really freaky stuff like this...



and this...



(I know. Freaky.)

and, Heaven help us all, this...



and this...



(Wait. That's just my mom. Sorry.)

Anyway. That was it. Our vacation photos. It all ended okay. Like I said, the same number of people returned home as left and no one had to be bailed out of any jails. (Though I will say, that sheriff that works for Osceola county-rude. He was very, very rude. If you're out there somewhere and you ever read this, Mr. Sheriff, I just want to say that while YOU might not have thought pondering the possible legalities of skywritten profanities was worthwhile, or sane, we obviously did. A simple admittance that you just didn't know would have sufficed. You ended up looking ignorant anyway, didn't you? Very rude, you were. Very.) And TSA let my mom go finally. I'm not sure they bought her story that it was my sister who planted the bottles in her bag, but whatever. All's well that ends well, right?

Sure.

*snort*