I have never been gaga over Disney. I mean, maybe I was, but I don’t recall ever seeing pictures of myself dressed up as a princess for Halloween when I was little. I don’t know when the Disney store came into existence, but I know that I have never had a desire to enter it. I do know that I had a Fozzy Bear stuffed Muppet, but a Muppet is different from Goofy and Donald Duck. Having a daughter has created the possibility that I might need to invest in all things Disney as well as attend children’s animated films. I suppose this is not even a possibility; it will be my reality.
Right before the winter recess, our elementary school used to gather in the auditorium for a holiday song sing-along which I loved. I’m not sure if that came before or after the showing of Disney’s Fantasia, which I think I liked but really, what kid doesn’t like getting out of class right before a vacation? I have seen Bambi and am scarred as a result of it. I think that movie was ahead of its’ time. But beyond that, I have a mental block. I cannot understand women whose dream wedding is all Disney. On one of the last episodes of Oprah, she sent a couple on a destination wedding to Disney. I swear the girl was more excited over that than the actual engagement. While doing a little research for this blog, I stumble across a landscaping company in Naples, Florida that actually creates extreme lawn designs a la Disney. If you don’t believe me, click here: http://www.lawnservicenaplesfl.com/p/disney-themes-backyard-design.html . Then there is the HG TV show called “Our Yard Went Disney.” I am a reality tv junky, but this makes me cringe. If anyone ever wanted to send a message of hate my way, make my yard go Disney. That would be the equivalent of a burning cross.
A colleague and friend of mine, Joe, loves all things Disney. I accept this. I might have to draw the line if he shows up to work in Mickey Mouse ears or a Mickey Mouse tie, but I have faith that he will not. Previously, a woman I worked with wore Winnie the Pooh shirts and overalls to work. The days she wasn’t wearing that, she wore her Pindar t-shirt. I simply cannot endorse adults wearing cartoon/Disney character clothing EVER unless they are in Disney, let alone to a middle school. Promoting alcohol is also not the best move. But I digress. Joe has accepted that he will be responsible for bringing Emily to see Disney movies, hence earning the name, Uncle Joey. About a month ago, Emily tried to nurse on Joe, and since she doesn’t just do that to anyone, I think she wants him to be her Uncle. But I digress again.
While shopping for maternity clothes at Motherhood/Pea in a Pod, I came across Minnie Mouse shirts. Are you effing kidding me??? Were these made for pregnant teen moms??? Is there really a market for this??? These shirts pissed me off so much that I began to wonder why I had such disdain for mice at all.
Reason 1: When teaching kids the plural of mice, there is always one or two in the bunch who shout out ‘meece’. NOTE: There are only one or two who shout it out. How many are thinking it? Certain grammar and spelling issues really piss me off.
Reason 2: Somehow, turning a rodent into a cartoon is just not appealing to me. Are there cartoons about gerbils and hamsters?? I know insects aren’t rodents, but are there shows featuring fun loving and cute roaches?? Antz the movie---didn’t see it. Bee Movie—Seinfeld was in it so suddenly being a bee was funny?
Reason 3: MICE ARE GROSS.
In college, it was completely acceptable to live in Section VIII housing, a.k.a. the Glenmont Development but lovingly referred to as G-Spot. G-Spot was composed of students from Towson University sharing 3 bedroom apartments turned into four by simply throwing up some drywall in the living room and putting a curtain up in the kitchen. Rent, at least for me each month, was about 156 bucks—not too shabby. The other residents of G-Spot were extended Indian families living throughout their apartments in sleeping bags. I swear. I am not making this up. You know the saying, you pay for what you get? Well, for each apartment, you got a mouse, if not mice. First, we heard scratching in the wall. Then one night, screaming erupted from the living room. No, it was not a hallucination or a flashback, it was a mouse. Fortunately for us, one of our roommates, Laura, was able to bring her cat, Lily, in to live with us. Lily was badass. No more “hallucinations” of Mickey or Minnie.
Well where the hell is Lily when you need her? This week, summer school had to temporarily relocate to a neighboring high school. We had to schlep over supplies and snacks and set up shop in the faculty room. The room had round and rectangular tables, a sink, refrigerator, bathrooms and computers---basically all we really need for a short stay away from home base. For those of you who have always wanted to know what the innards of a faculty room look like, wonder no more. They generally have tables, chairs, a fridge, possibly a copy machine, phones from the 1980s that have sticky keys and smell like bad breath, crumbs on the table, a water fountain, soda machine and old flyers. Generally, faculty rooms are not very clean. When 75-100 people share a space, there tends to be a mess. For example, the microwaves look like someone exploded Mt. Vesuvius inside. There is old toast stuck in the toaster and spilled gook and an overall coating of grossness inside the refrigerator. There are often mysterious smells that you notice when you walk in from the hallway, yet get used to the longer you spend in there. On Tuesday, someone noticed mouse poop around the toaster oven in the faculty room. GROSS. Guess we are not making toast…. I didn’t think it could get any grosser until yesterday. Mickey or Minnie or both or an entire family nibbled their way into the boxes of animal crackers, graham crackers and pretzels we had for the kids’ snacks. They clearly had a party; there was shit everywhere. One of the mice seemed to be literate, as he or she left their calling card on a students’ reading folder. I dry heaved twice yesterday once today. I felt violated. I felt like I was being watched. I just know that somewhere in that room, little beady eyes were pinned on us, willing us to leave behind a morsel or two for later and possibly hoping we would leave behind a bottle of Pepto.
If Walt Disney really was cryogenically frozen and is thawed out in my lifetime, I really hope I have the opportunity to chat over a cup of coffee (even if it has to be in Disneyworld or Disneyland) and ask him why he chose to make rodents that hide in walls, eat your food and crap all over the place symbols of joy and fun for children and adults alike. So now, my fervent hatred of Disney characters has been renewed one thousand fold and it looks like Uncle Joey will be sharing a popcorn with his new niece.
**Please note: I will certainly embrace Emily’s love of Disney characters if it manifests. I will bring her to movies. I will bring her to Disney. I am capable of putting my feelings aside for the love of my daughter. HOWEVER, I will NOT wear a shirt with Minnie on it.
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