Today, at dinner.
Adrian: “So, what are the rules for the DisneyWorld trip this week?”
Adrian: “Well, you’re not the easiest to travel with, Noa.”
Me: “EXCUSE ME?”
Adrian: “You’re proving my point right there.”
Me: “I don’t have rules for you on vacations. You’re a grown-ass man.”
Adrian: “You fucking liar. You have rules for me all the time. The only difference is now I’m trying to be preemptive to avoid the inevitable ass-chewing for not following a previously unstated rule.”
Me: “I didn’t have any in mind, but now that you’re being a huge dick about it, I’m going to come up with some awesome rules.”
Adrian: “Such as?”
Me: “Every time you see Goofy, you must cartwheel into someone.”
Adrian: “I don’t know how to cartwheel.”
Me: “Which will only make it better. Every time you see any Mickey shaped object, even vaguely so, you have to shout I LOVE THE FEEL OF FUR ON MY TAINT.”
Me: “You brought this on yourself. Every time you see Mary Poppins, that bitch gets a punch to her box.”
Adrian: “Only if I can shout HERE’S YOUR SPOONFUL OF SUGAR.”
Me: “I love you.”
Rules For DisneyWorld
- Every time our nieces take a picture with a Princess, you have to, very obviously, fart on said Princess.
- Must picket It’s A Small World for child labor violations. Bongos=Bonus Points.
- Upon entering each park, we must fervently convince a nearby parkgoer that this is, in fact, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
- We must spin fast enough on the teacups that we unbolt one of them while creating a centrifugal time warp, recreating my fondest childhood memory with my stepfather (provided they don’t remember me and I am allowed back on the teacups)
- Adrian must be mistaken for Steven Tyler on the Aerosmith Rockin’ RollerCoaster. I will provide a mouth stretcher along with copious scarves and meth. I will provide no explanation for having a mouth stretcher in my possession.
- Must be shithoused on rum and demand parley in line for The Pirates Of The Caribbean.
- Adrian must greet all characters in a manner fitting to their dress. Sniffing Goofy’s ass, mousetrapping Chip and Dale, and harpooning Ariel.
- I must hand Belle the card of a Domestic Violence Counselor with a knowing look and a gentle hug.
- Someone’s tits, painted to look like Jack Skellington and Sally, must be seen on a coaster picture.
- I must bring my EMF detector, nightvision goggles, and fake scream on the Haunted Mansion ride. Adrian must act like there is a camera crew following us inside.
- One and/or both of us must be inconsolably afraid during the fireworks show. I will pay Adrian $100 if he wears a child leash during this.
- Everyone we speak to at the airport must be convinced that you’re Dog The Bounty Hunter’s Fairy Tale counterpart, Totes M’Goats.
- Must demand at one restaurant to eat something “Authentically Orlandan.”
I would LOVE to see your suggestions for our DisneyWorld Rules (for me and for Adrian). I’ll be taking photos/video of my favorites and posting them on Twitter and Facebook (much to the embarrassment of Adrian’s entire family, who are going with us). What else should he do?
—Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Gia: “Her recent mildly excessive use of the word Shitastic has DEFINITELY caused me to introduce it to my vocabulary. I’m just waiting for Boyfriend to do or say something that I can respond with “THATS SHITASTIC” too. “Hey Gia, want pizza for dinner?” “Pizza? Again? Seriously? Shitastic!”