My Affair With Walt Disney, Part 1

So I guess it's been about 10 days since I returned from Flo-Rida and I have finally accepted that my vacation is over and I have to get on with my life.

But I don't have to like it.

Before we embarked on this trip, you could say I was a Disney cynic.  My lowest form of insult was to say that someone was wearing an embroidered Eyeore sweatshirt, because I didn't understand the Kingdom Walt Built.  It is a bit magical and pixie dust and all that bullshit.  It really is.  And I'm glad I spent Oldest Daughter's first semester of college to go.

I'm not sure who let me wear these huge Bermuda shorts, but they should be shot.  I do have varicose veins, but come on.  On my spring shopping list?  Shorter shorts.  I look like Zac Efron on the basketball court in High School Musical.  This is our first "official" pic on the trip.  We are taking Tour Guide Mike's advice, getting there early, and ready to storm the gates.

Then we made a fatal error.  We chose Space Mountain as our first ride.  If you recall, Space Mountain is a very jerky roller coaster almost entirely in the dark, twisting and snapping and going downhill very fast.  Current Husband, Oldest Daughter, and The Son thought it was fantastic, and went back a few times.

Their ride was very different from my ride.  In this photo, Youngest Daughter is taking a break from screaming bloody murder and asking why I'm doing this to her.  I am leaning forward in my seat, reassuring her, and cracking my spinal column around every blind, dark turn while I try to maintain physical contact with her so she doesn't completely lose her shit.  Needless to say, YD didn't get back on this ride.  Or any other roller coaster in the park for the duration of our trip, for that matter.

The Son getting some Chipmunk Love. 

Obligatory castle shot.  I forgot to suck in my gut and CH has his sexy safari hat on, designed to keep his pink newborn skin form burning.  The kids are so proud.  See your future, Darling Offspring.  Love your future.

Our first princess.  Look at Aladdin, the cocky bastard. 

Second princess.

Third.

Fourth.

Are you detecting a theme here?  And we are only halfway through our princesses.   The Son and CH were loving this action so far - the princesses kept beckoning The Son - "Come over and take a picture!"  He almost did it until Cinderella called him "little prince"  - I could read his face "LITTLE PRINCE?  WTF, CINDERELLA?  I'M TWELVE!"  And game over.

I will tell you that if this is about my love affair with Walt Disney, it was really a three-way with Tour Guide Mike.  Thanks reader Pat, he was worth EVERY PENNY of the $21.95 I spent.  We rode every major ride in every park at least twice, and never waited more than 20 minutes for a ride.  There were three hour lines on some of the rides we did TWICE, and it's all because I read what Tour Guide Mike had to say.  The family mocked me at first, but by Day Three they were all, "What does Mike say about this ride?"

So maybe Mom does know what she's talking about after all.  Huh.


 

I'd Post, But I'm Watching the Oscars

So we got home from Disney, and then I was in charge of my elementary school's Variety Show with a bunch of other parents and we had dress rehearsal Thursday night for four hours and then the show on Friday night for four hours and then Oldest Daughter had her Turnabout Dance on Saturday night with her handsome yet sweet beau:

Oh my gosh, these kids are so sweet I could sop them up with a biscuit.

Let me tell you something I really love and appreciate about Oldest Daughter - she isn't afraid to be wacky.  Clearly this is something I hold dear in my offspring.  So when I say, "Do a crazy pose!" and she immediately does this:

I mean, seriously people, I'm so proud.

After the dance all the kids came over to our house to watch movies and they were here until 1 a.m. and today I have just been an absolute sloth.  Girl Scout cookies are here, and there were thousands of calories to be consumed, and the Oscars are on!  So I have failed you.  I'm assuming my Mom and the six people who read the blog are watching the Oscars as well, so really, there are no losers in this scenario.

So quickly, on the Oscars:

1. Was I the only one who thought Jennifer Lopez's boob was falling out?  I SWEAR there was nipple.
2. Loved Cirque de Soileil.  It was pretty awesome.
3. Chris Rock was hilarious.
4. I'm a little over Hugo.
5. Christian Bale is going to punch Billy Crystal at the Vanity Fair parties.
6. And then Jonah Hill will shove a cupcake in his face.
7. I love Meryl Streep, but Glenn Close has NEVER. WON.  That is just not right.
8. I hope The Help wins Best Picture.  But I loved Midnight in Paris too, but I just can't seem to get over Woody Allen sleeping with his adopted daughter.  Okay, The Artist just won.  I guess I'm going to have to see it.

I'm pretty excited to see the Jimmy Kimmel after Oscars show, and then I shall sleep.  See you later this week!

Actual Texting Convo With OD

We returned from Disney World on Sunday evening, and the kids had yesterday off due to President's Day while I trudged off to work (triple venti skinny caramel macchiato time).  Today, the kids went back to school, and Oldest Daughter has rehearsals for the musical tonight at the high school until about 8 p.m.  I get this text from Oldest Daughter at about 2 p.m.

OD:  Can u bring me fried rice after work?  Didn't bring money.
ME:  Sure.  What to drink?
OD:  Sprite.  And can you bring a t-shirt?
ME:  What do you mean?  You need a new shirt?
OD:  No, a crappy one I can move in. We have dancing rehearsal too.
ME:  I'm not driving home before I deliver your rice.
OD:  Crap.
(Note to self - must discuss overabundance of the word "crap" in this conversation.)
MOM HORMONE KICKS IN.  THIS TOOK THREE TEXTS TO GET IT ALL OUT.
ME:  I'm sorry, but I have to drive YD to the mall to find an outfit for the Variety Show on Fri night, I'm losing my mind over getting the show coordinated, and I'm trying to get caught up at work.  You're going to have to be a little more responsible for your own things at your extra-cirricular activities, because we don't have time to drive all over town delivering food and clothing to you at various satellite locations.  I have shirts at work that say "Bee a Happy Hooker" and that is your option.  Do you want a hooker shirt?  Do you?!
*texting silence*
ME:  Seriously, do you want the hooker shirt or not?  Because that's all I got.  Hooker shirt and fried rice.  I'm out of options.
OD:  No hooker shirt.  I'm sorry.

Which honestly I was a little relieved to hear, because not only do I not want my teen wearing a hooker shirt, but I would've had to sort of lift it from work, and then pay for it later, and then hope no one saw me on the surveillance cameras walking out of the building with it before I paid, and then have to explain, "Oh, I was stealing it for my teenage daughter.  She is in a dance number."

In the interim, I'm a little frazzled.  Re-entry into the non-vacay world has been harsh.  I'm going to call my mom and ask her to bring me some fried rice and a new shirt and see what happens.

Retraction on Chip and Dale

Hello Wifers!

I'm back from sunny Florida, in one piece, slightly bronzer, with shin splints and memories of YD puking in the airport, but I have been converted from a Disney cynic to a drinker of the Disney Kool-Aid.  You got me, Walt.

I'll be boring you with the report of our trip in later posts, but for now, I have one important retraction to make - I made fun of Chip and Dale in an earlier post, calling them "second rate" characters.  When I was in Disney, I heard a number of Cast Members telling guests that "there are over 1200 characters at Disney World, and all of them are important!"  A Cast Member can tell me that and I'll sort of roll my eyes and mutter, "whatever, get me first tier princess and a vodka tonic", but when I see THIS:

(This adorable girl is the property of Pat, ADITW reader)

I have to say "Bring me the chipmunks and one of those kick-ass hats!  (And the vodka tonic.)  And for the love of God, someone buy that darling girl a pony!"  So flippin' cute, no?  And that is where Disney gets you.  Happy faces.  You can have shin splints and lower back pain and be sweating like a hog and eat the worst $35 Beef Tips EVER in a fake Norwegian castle, but once that little (or teenager-ey) face looks at you with their eyes all lit up and their smile from ear to ear, they've got you.  I never really had a burning desire to go to Disney, but now that I've been there, I'm sure we'll go back.  And I already have the first 20 of the 150,000 cans we'll need to collect to do it.

Wifer Out!

It's 10:30 a.m. The time in the trip when you can still avert disaster. When the bags are packed but you can still remember that crucial phone charger or Tylenol or photo ID that you'll be crying about later. It's calm. Quiet. You're under the illusion that everything is under control. This is the time that scares me.

We leave for the airport in 30 minutes. Youngest daughter is getting her Dramamine in an hour, and everyone is slightly freaked about getting on an airplane, since we normally drive everywhere due to Current Husband's hatred of airplanes. I love to fly, but I'm in charge of maintaining calm in our party.

CH just came in and announced we are packed and leaving. Away we go! Wish me luck and effing Pixie Dust!!!!!! Have a great week!

T Minus 3 and Counting

First of all, thanks for your Estro-mail, it actually worked!  Who-hoo!

Tour Guide Mike just sent an e-mail to me, actually begging me to pack.  Which is funny, because I haven't started.  Let me give you the schedule from now until our flight leaves:

Saturday -
9 a.m. - Blogging when I should be packing.  Coffee tastes bad.  Pissed.
9:30 a.m. - Taking Oldest Daughter to mall for V Day boyfriend gift.  His mom nixed a hermit crab, so we're back to square one.  And really, what is her problem?  Why can't a teenage girl give her boyfriend crabs? 
10:00 a.m.  Stopping by Target to pick up my copy of vampire porn Breaking Dawn.
11:30 a.m. - Pick up younger kids from their sleepovers
12:00 - Take The Son to his basketball game.  Watch said game.  Embarrass myself and others.
2:00 - Practice finale dance for the elementary school Variety Show of which I'm in charge.  Note that I have no rhythym and cannot dance.
3:00 - Iowa State plays basketball and all other things cease.
6:00 - Friend coming over to watch vampire porn Breaking Dawn, because we took our teens to it in the theater and couldn't really get into it because our teenage daughters were watching Edward getting it on, and it was a little awkward.  Tonight it's all us, baby.
10:00ish - Friend possibly leaves, but now I've been drinking. 
TIME TO PACK!  Put underwear and socks and bathing suits in bag, take Aleve, go to bed.

Sunday
Noon - 4 p.m.  Rehearsals for the elementary school Variety Show
5:00 p.m.  OD's boyfriend coming over for dinner, actually cooking this time
7:00 p.m. - Leave dirty dishes on counter so I can pack.  Yell at people about dishes.
8:00 p.m.  Begin tucking kids in, they start telling me about makeup tests and things they will have to do tomorrow.  Help them cram for makeup tests.
10:00 p.m. - Make extensive To-Do list that I will promptly lose.

Monday
6:30 a.m.  Wake up, drive middle schoolers to school, go to work all day.
5:00 p.m.  Take kids to string lessons.
6:00 p.m.  Pedicure (this may not seem like a necessity, but trust me, it is)
7:00 p.m.  Take kids to piano lessons.
9:00 p.m.  Begin panicking and weeping about how unprepared I am for trip.  Stay up into the a.m. hours muttering to myself like a crazy person while everyone else sleeps soundly.

Tuesday
9:00 a.m.  Get dog issues settled
10:00 a.m. FREAK OUT COMPLETELY
11:00 a.m.  Leave for airport
1 p.m.  Begin apologies

This is likely EXACTLY how this is going to play out.  But admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, no?

Have a great weekend!  Come and pack for me!  Or better yet, come over to watch Breaking Dawn and eat guac and chips and margaritas.  I won't be packing anyway.

JulieAID: Send Me Your Estrogen

With all of this Disney trip planning, I've been feeling a bit like this guy from THIS story in the LA Times:

For future reference, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal will totally get me off the tower.  You might even be justified in suspecting that I got nekkid and on the tower just to GET a QPwC.  (Diet Coke with that, please.)

So Wifers, I am writing with a request.  Since I am now peri-menopausal and have been getting my period about a week early every month, I thought, "Sweet, that means I will get it the week before we go to Disney, because that would be early!"  But here we are, the Friday before we leave (we leave on Valentine's Day, don't rob my house) and NOTHING.  Let's pick exactly where I would like to be on Day 2 of the Raging River:

1. On an airplane with four nervous children (including Current Husband) and the Fasten Your Seat Belts sign on.
2. In my lovely, crisp, white, away-from-home bed at Beach Club Resort.
3. In my Mommy Tankini at Stormalong Bay on white towel of said resort.
4. In the Tower of Terror.
5. At Princess dinner in Norway.

Seriously, Universe.  Early EVERY DAMN MONTH SINCE OCTOBER.  By a week.  And now?  Nothing.  I'm sure this is probably a karma thing, and I get it.  I deserve it.  But how about if we schedule paybacks for March?  How about in April during my birthday and the four-day high school musical with Oldest Daughter in it?  But I'm begging you, Universe - not in an airplane or port-a-potties.

(NOTE:  For those of you who are smiling smugly and saying, "She's so pregnant!" - No.  She is not.  She has lovely nickel coils jammed up into her fallopean tubes, and "interactions" are at an all-time low due to the fabulously sexy cold I had for the last two weeks.)

"I'm sorry about your personal hormonal issues, Julie.  What can I do?"

ANSWER:  I want your estrogen. 

Please send your Estro-mail to adayinthewife@gmail.com, with your donor estrogen attached.  I will use your estrogen to female myself up, and then donate the unused estrogen to hairy men in a Big Johnson t-shirt who show butt crack and crumple their beer can and throw it out the window while driving.  WE ALL WIN.

After the estrogen arrives, and it is Day 2, I will happily take your donations of Quarter Pounders with Cheese.  With Diet Coke, please.

Thanks Wifers, and have a great weekend!

Snow Flight and the Seven Days

We are T-MINUS seven days and counting, and I am getting a grip.

Let me just say for the people who are rolling their eyes and saying, "What is she bitching about?  She's going to Disney!  You could have a cold sore or a bounced check or hammer toes, so SHUT. UP. already!" and I get that.  You are correct.  I could be a victim of hammer toe or some other podiatry nightmare.  But here is the deal - I'm feeling intense pressure to make this THE BEST EFFING DISNEY TRIP EVAH! because it could very well be the only time we go.  There are lots of places I'd like to go other than Disney, and the clock is ticking on Oldest Daughter leaving the nest (T-minus three years, six months on that one), so it's Make-It-Count time!

It's Disney, so it seems deceptively easy from the outside.  But the more I read, the more complex I realize it is.  Planning these trips is not for the weak.  I know this is not news to many of you, but I naively thought last week, "Aw, we should do a Cinderella Royal Palace Lunch!" and then last night I read an article that gave specific instructions on how to make the phone call six months ahead of your desired date at 7 a.m. to Disney and to cut off the Cast Member who finally answers the call and say, "Julie the Wife, Party of 5, 8 a.m."  The part that cracks me up is, "You have time to be polite AFTER your reservation is booked, but right now you are fighting every second with someone who wants YOUR time slot!"  I'm waiting to see the guide that says,

 "You NEED your FastPASS to the Toy Story ride, and that other kid's grandma has two kidneys and she can live on one, so you've GOT TO DO WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO DO!!  CUT! THAT! BITCH!"

So I guess what I'm telling you is that there wasn't a snowcone's chance in hell that I was getting into the Cinderella Organized Mom Lunch, but I did manage to score the second-to-last reservation for the week at the Akershus Royal Banquet Hall dinner at 8 p.m., aka Second Rate Princess Dinner.

I also discovered that with my Disney Rewards Visa I get a private character Meet and Greet with photo, but I'm sort of expecting it to be either Chip or Dale or the dog from Up (which wouldn't be that bad) or Bashful.

This trip is like a game where I'm unlocking different levels the more I play.  I actually got out of bed at 1 a.m. this morning to order a Belle dress on eBay that will be delivered on Friday so I can try to get into the Bibbidy Bobbidy Boutique and not have to go to the $200 costume level.  I'm completely obsessed.

My name is Julie the Wife, and I'm going on my Virgin Trip to Disney.  I'll report back tomorrow after 3 hours of sleep and four Red Bulls.

Disney 2: Crime and Punishment

You people are cracking me up!  I've had so many contacts from people via e-mail and such to help me out of my Disney hell that I am writing Part 2 today instead of Sunday so I don't stress anyone out.  This is long.  Almost as long as the articles on the Tour Guide Mike site that I am not mature enough to navigate.

First, let me say, IT ENDS WELL.  So far, anyway.

Here is where we left off - Walt Disney had me addicted to sleeping pills:

Mr. Disney, that Parisian-looking sailor shirt is tres chic. 

Will you plan my vacation to your small country in Florida?

So at that point I was staying off-property and trying to hit about seven major parks in approximately 96 hours with about $3000 of tickets.  This is when the drinking began. 
Per my friend Tricia's suggestion, I signed up for TourGuideMike.com, which is a good resource despite needing to read the equivalent of three volumes of War and Peace.  TG Mike convinced me that we need to stay on-property because our experience will probably be better.  CH and I don't either one respond to stress well, and we tend to get all bitchy with transportation in cities larger than 100,000, so this seemed like a good plan.

We had a family meeting and asked the kids where they really want to go.  After a unanimous vote, we decided to forego Sea World and Universal this time and just do Disney.  After hours of searching, CH and I finally agreed on a place to stay.  I tend to be more hotel-ish, where CH leans more toward the side of Survivalist Camp.  I gave a little more ground and agreed to do the cabins at Fort Wilderness, mostly because they promised smores and campfire songs around a big bonfire at night and we could have a separate bedroom from the kids in the cabin.  The other big bonuses were No Rental Car, No Driving, Shuttle from the Airport, and Park Tickets in the package.  Yay for decisions!

I got a Disney Rewards Visa last fall so I could get the $200 gift card and the member perks when you visit the Big D.  We purposely keep our limits low and avoid using credit because CH listens to Dave Ramsey, which honestly makes my life a little hellish at times with his whole reasonable "Stay out of any debt at all costs" mentality.  I looked up the account online so I could see how much money I needed to transfer to the card to make room for the big Fort Wilderness purchase, and guess what I found?  Someone stole our account number and had charged thousands of dollars in cosmetics on it!!!  Du Bastardo!  I had to call Chase and send them a picture so they could see that I am clearly not using cosmetics, and they apologized for my lack of foundation know-how and suggested a brow shaping, and cancelled the account.  This was on Wednesday.  I had to wait until Monday to get the new account number to book the trip.

It's Monday!  Yay!  I transferred enough money to get me a lifetime of brow shaping to the card and pulled up my "Saved Vacations" on the Disney website.  It was with glee that I hit "BOOK THIS TRIP", until the pop-up screen said,

"We're Sorry!  This Resort is Booked!  Can we suggest an alternative reservation at Animal Kingdom Lodge for only $75000?"

But....but....I MADE A DECISION.  Do you Cast Members know how HARD it is for me to make a decision?  Now what am I going to do?  What?  Spend the next four hours of work time trying to untangle my personal vacation and credit card mess?  Okay, if I must.

I call the Mothership and get a Cast Member, who cheerfully butchers her own name so I can't understand it, and asks how she can help me.  I tell her how our credit card number was stolen so I had to wait and get a new card and now my cabin is gone as my sacrifice to someone else's beauty.  She gets some information, and after a few minutes, she tells me that while Fort Wilderness is in the Value Resort category, she has something that has become availabe in the Beach Club Resort, which is two steps up in the Deluxe Resort category, and we can have a Garden View room!  Yay!  With two quick service dining plans a day, and tickets to the parks, and the shuttle and the awesome pool, and hey, it's even a little bit less than the Survivalist Camp! 

"Here is my Disney Rewards Visa number, SHOIEFHHW, let's do this!"  So she runs it and says, "Oh, I'm sorry, your card declined." and I say, "Well, WNNELEND, I don't see how because I just transferred my daughter's first semester of college on that card," and she said, "I understand.  We do need full payment today because your trip is happening in less than three weeks.  Let me talk to my supervisor."  So she talks and comes back and says, "We will use your $200 gift card to hold the reservation until 10 p.m. tonight, but then we'll have to release it because we just can't hold these."  And I said, "But FDJNEU:S, if it hasn't posted then it will post at midnight" and she said "Why don't you call Disney Rewards Visa and then call us back?" and I said, "Well why not?  My boss LOVES paying me to talk to Disney!"  PLEASE NOTE:  I didn't say ANY of those snarky things, because truly, the Disney phone Cast Members are really really nice and helpful and always sound suspiciously cheerful.  I swear they have a Margaritaville machine at every customer service phone cubicle.

I call Disney Rewards and tell them the whole story about how the credit card was stolen for someone else's beautification while I look like I have sleep apnea and low iron, and how I lost Fort Wilderness and then miracle of miracles I found Beach Club and now it is slipping from my grasp because of the slowness of this transfer.  The very nice person on the line said that because of the size of my transfer it takes two business days instead of one, and that I could call back tomorrow and they would put me on hold while they call my bank and verify that we have the funds and then call Disney back.  She then said, "Trust me, they want you on the property, I doubt they'll cancel the reservation."  Which was nice and all, but my luck so far wasn't that great.  I called Disney back and spoke with my third representative, also unreasonably happy, and she audibly cringed and then grinned and said, "Well, I guess we'll just have to see what happens tomorrow!  If the reservation cancels tonight at 10 when we close we'll just re-book you tomorrow."

Really?  REALLY, UNIVERSE?
Can you work with me on this one?

And guess what? It did!  The card cleared, the trip booked, someone is wearing fantastic cosmetics in a club somewhere, and all is well.  The kids are excited, and the only thing left to go terribly wrong is a huge ice storm in the Midwest on the day we leave and our flight is somehow cancelled or massively delayed.  And with my air travel luck, that may just happen.

Until then, I am going to believe in Magic.  And read articles on Tour Guide Mike.

How Walt Disney Got Me Hooked On Sleeping Pills

Well, it’s booked. We’re making our pilgrimage to the Mecca of America, Disney World. And let me tell you, it has nearly killed me from the stress.

Let me preface this by saying that I am admittedly one of the more disorganized people I know. I lose things. I skim over the small print. I have trouble staying focused on the goal. Worst of all, I am a Master Procrastinator. These may be okay qualities to have for a creative type – big ideas, quirky and off-the-beaten path presentations, etc – but these are NOT good qualities in a Disney trip planner.

TIMELINE:  How I planned my trip to Disney

• 1996 - I got pregnant and thought, “Hey, we should take this kid to Disney someday.”
• 2002 – I got pregnant for the third time and thought, “Jesus, I will NOT lug three small kids to Disney.”
• 2008 – Youngest Daughter started kindergarten and I thought, “Maybe we should think about Disney.”
• 2009 – Ordered Disney trip planning DVD. It arrived. I stuck it in a drawer with report cards and kid art.
• 2010 – Put house on market, got full time job, small life implosion not conducive to Princesses.
• October 2011 – Bit the bullet in October and booked plane tickets to Orlando for Valentine’s Day.
• November 2011 – Had sister book hotel rooms off property, as she could get me a Family Rate.
• December 2011 – Had kids open Christmas gift saying, “Yay, we’re going to Disney!” Didn’t quite get the screaming/tears/hysteria we were hoping for – it was more of a “Huh. You finally did it. Great.” Those damned Disney commercials that I’ve been tearing up watching for the last year as the kids freak out just created unrealistic expectations in my own children.
• January 2012 – Five weeks to departure – The Delusion is broken.

I start thinking maybe I should look at the cost of park tickets. We don’t get to Orlando until about 6 p.m. on Tuesday, and leave first thing on Sunday, so we really have four full days in town. We only want to hit Magic Kingdom one day and maybe another Disney park, but the kids will want to go to Harry Potter Land at Universal, and Current Husband wants to go to Sea World. We should be able to do that in four days, right? The cost of tickets for a family of five on that multi-park plan is about $3000. I REPEAT, JUST THE TICKETS TO THE PARKS COSTS THREE EXTRA LARGE.

But hey, we’re making that up in the room, right? Because they are so cheap! But we do have to rent a car while we’re there, because Disney has it rigged that you can’t get transportation to Disney from anyone but them. And then there are meals. And parking. I decide to look around the website a little bit.

OH DEAR GOD. I’VE FAILED. I’VE FAILED AT THE ONE THING MOMS SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO.

CONFESSION: 

My name is Julie the Wife,

and I’m Disney Challenged.

I go to Facebook to complain and whine that I don’t know what the hell I’m Disney Doing, and a friend suggests I go to http://www.tourguidemike.com/. I do it, I buy the plan, and then I wait while they send my results. I can see that what they have is extremely helpful, to people other than me, but apparently now besides the Disney website to read, I have about 500 articles on the Tour Guide Mike site, all with secret codes and special instructions. What is my dining plan? What is my transportation plan? What is my Character Meet and Greet plan? What rides am I going to personally want to be on, and what time of day will I need to get in line? As I said, I know Tour Guide Mike is awesome for people who know how to point and shoot these weapons, but I can’t tell you what we are eating for dinner tomorrow night or where my black t-shirt is, so we’re both going to need a crystal ball for those decisions.

I said on Facebook that planning your first Disney trip is like having sex for the first time: Confusing, scary, and possibly overrated, but everyone expects you to do it. I’m starting to think I’ll use the same coping strategy this time – Close my eyes, brace for the unknown, and when people there ask me what I think, I’ll smile and say I came.

End of Part I. Stay tuned for Part II of the Disney Adventure, Crime and Punishment Version.