T-pisode 34: I Don’t Like People in Costumes

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Here’s a story I never really told anybody. But I’m sharing it right here on t-blawg. It really sums up why I don’t like or trust people who wear costumes. You see, about 6 years ago I went on a little family trip to Disney World and to make things a little interesting for myself at the happiest place on Earth, I made it my mission to try to bang one of the Disney Princesses. Oh yeah I did. These girls are smoking in person! So every time my nieces wanted a character autograph with a princess I made sure to wait with them and on the down low, see if the princess would break character when I hit on her. Jasmine? Nothing. Ariel? Nope. Pocahontas? Shit. Belle? Nada. Then finally Mulan. All I said was “Gee I wonder where a single good-looking uncle such as myself can find some not-so-Disney fun after hours if you know what I mean?” With a coy half-smile and big wink. She looked at me and through her fake blinding white cult Disney smile told me to meet her at 9:00 at this piano bar on the Epcot boardwalk. Score! I blew off the family Ginger bread bakefest and electric light parade and went to meet Mulan. And to my surprise she was actually there. Belle was there too. Captain Hook was there. And Dale. But no Chip. They were all in their early 20s. Mulan was cool at first. Then out of nowhere she told me about an after party a few miles away where they were all going to blow lines, pop ecstasy and have a fucking Disney orgy! I made up the last part. But if you do the first two things they usually always end with the last. Now if this was a Vegas trip with the boys and these were strippers or some shit I definitely would’ve went. But my sister had booked a 7AM character breakfast and honestly, these Disney freaks kind of weirded me out. My nieces would be devastated if they knew the princesses were really slampigs! I passed. I hate costume people!

I should’ve known better from the time my cousin and I were teenagers at Six Flags and we almost fought all the Warner Brother characters! Seriously. All of them. This is also the same trip where earlier we got our life ban from the Econo Lodge. Heh heh. We were on a roll. We saw Tweety Bird with his handler. Apparently all these freaks have human handlers to guide them. He was greeting kids. My cousin ran up to him and hugged his head from behind. I guess Tweety thought he was going to pull his head off or rape him. I don’t know. But this fucking little yellow bird snapped! He turned around and swung at my cousin. He missed. Then threw his hands up in the “Let’s go motherfucker” motion! This caused my cousin and I to go into Boston teenage punk mode and put our fists up ready to brawl too. The handlers immediately escorted Tweety away to this private character area. Then as this is going down Wiley Coyote swings at this random kid and punches him in the nose. Then Yosmite Sam comes running over to help him jump the kid. My cousin and I rush over ready to beat down some cartoon ass but the handlers escorted them all away and locked the door. We couldn’t believe this shit! I hate costume people!

I also have a complete disdain for any team mascot. Seriously. Like the Red Sox mascot, Wally the Green Monster. Definitely a kiddie diddler. Lucky, the Celtics cart-wheel flipping guy gymnast mascot. Who is clearly a douche the way he tries to super motivate the fans. Get the fuck out my face Lucky. Blades, the Bruins Bear. He’s hiding something under that costume. I just know it. I’m making it my mission to find out what exactly next season. And of course, Pat the Patriot who proved my theory when he got arrested last year in an underage sex sting! I also don’t like magicians and the trickery that they are capable of. I despise magician trickery. Of course I also proved my hatred for Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny in an earlier post when I crank called the shit out of them both and threatened to kill them as a child. I hate costume people!!! Now you know why. I have my reasons and I’m not fucking budging.

Until next time. Always take it there.

T