Sunday, 29 November 2009

Holiday Heroes Alliance, Part One


FBI Criminal Investigation Specialist Christina Bryson was hungover.

Last night, after spending the entire week of Thanksgiving getting dragged from Liberty Island to Rockefeller Center to Chinatown, Christina dropped off her parents and sisters at LaGuardia. And then she drove directly to her favorite pub.

She'd only intended to have a beer and watch the last period of the Rangers game, but the longer she sat there, the more holiday chatter she overhead. And the more holiday chatter she overheard, the more she thought about the fact that in three weeks she'd be on a plane on her way Pacific Palisades to spend another week with her family. And the more she thought about that, the more she drank.

Usually Christina found solace in her job, but Thanksgiving marked the beginning of her partner's annual month-long vacation. And a partner-less FBI agent is a beat cop with a nightstick. She'd be pushing papers and cleaning coffee makers until the New Year.

God, she hated the holidays.

When Christina arrived at her office on Monday morning, she was annoyed to see someone sitting in front of her desk. It wasn't even eight o'clock. There was a jackhammer trying to pound its way out of her skull, and her eyes were lolling around in her head like something out of a cartoon. She didn't even remember if the Rangers had won.

"Good morning," she said, walking into her office and dropping her leather bag on the desk. "My assistant didn't tell me I had any appointments this early."

The man's FBI Visitor Badge identified him as "Hubert Hare," and on any other morning Christina would have mocked him. This morning, however, it was taking all of her brainpower to remain upright.

Hubert Hare rose from the chair. When he extended his hand, Christina noticed that his nails were perfectly manicured and his skin was extremely soft. He was wearing a tweed coat with elbow patches, and round spectacles. Her first thought was college professor, but he seemed much too young for that. He covered her hand with both of his own, and perhaps she was still slightly drunk, but touching him seemed to make her dizzier.

"I apologize, Ms. Bryson," he said, releasing her hand. "I didn't make an appointment. Frankly I never imagined we'd need to meet. But circumstances have changed, and there is an urgent matter that requires our collective attention."

He motioned to the door. "May I?"

Christina nodded. Hubert Hare closed the door as she took a seat behind her desk. She wished she'd stopped at Starbucks.

"How may I help you, Mr. Hare?"

Hubert Hare leaned forward and locked eyes with her. Again, she felt light-headed. "Ms. Bryson," he said. "Your partner has been kidnapped."

"Nick? No, he's on vacation. He has been taking off the month of December as long as we've worked together. I'm sure one of my colleagues can assist you. Nick's a good agent, but we have plenty of others."

Hubert Hare shook his head. "No. Nick was taken from his apartment last night by four armed men. They gagged him and stuffed him into the trunk of an unmarked SUV. I don't have the license plate number because my door watchman fell asleep, but I do have this video footage."

He handed an iPhone across the desk to Christina. She watched in horror as a night vision-equipped surveillance camera played out the scene just as Hubert had described it. It was definitely Nick's building. It was definitely Nick.

"Why do you have this video?" Christina demanded, snapping to her feet and knocking her chair over. "How do you know Nick? I swear to God if you hurt him—"

"Ms. Bryson, please sit down. I have much I need to explain, and time is short, especially with Nick in captivity. Nick Noel and I have worked together for many years. He is a dear friend, and while my affection is certainly a factor in my desire to rescue him, the crisis we have on our hands is much more serious than that."

Christina's heart thudded in her chest as she straightened her chair and sat back down. "You work for the FBI? Nick has never mentioned you."


"The CIA?"


"The NSA?"

"Ms. Bryson, I do not work for the United States of America. I work for the people of the world."

"The UN? Interpol?"

"No, I work for an underground organization called The Holiday Heroes Alliance."

Christina's heart slowed; she narrowed her eyes at Hubert Hare. This was a joke? Nick decided to have one of his friends punk her on his first day of vacation? What a jackass! He knew she'd be hungover after dealing with her family for an entire week.

"When you see Nick, give him a big 'fuck you' from me, and tell him he can forget about that Scotch my dad brought back from Glenfiddich."

"Ms. Bryson, I am quite serious. The Holiday Heroes Alliance is a real organization and your partner really has been kidnapped."

"Okay, well, I hope you and the other Holiday Heroes enjoy donning your gay apparel and tracking him down."

Christina stood up and motioned to the door.

"Ms. Bryson, listen to me: Most of the myths you were told as a child are true. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Cupid, Mother Nature: all of us are real. During our seasons, we carry out the tasks for which we've been chosen, and during our downtime we work with New York's finest superheroes to prevent crime. I have Spider-Man on speed dial!"

"All of 'us' are real?"

"Yes," Hubert Hare said. "I am the Easter Bunny."

"Oh, wow. Did Nick hire you? You sound like you actually believe what you're saying."

"No, Nick did not hire me. I am the Easter Bunny. Look, all of us have our own powers that we can use at any time. The Tooth Fairy can fly. Mother Nature can control the weather. Cupid can manipulate emotions."

"And what can you do, as the Easter Bunny?"

"I have the powers of a rabbit."

"So you're a skilled ... herbivore?"

"No, my skill is sex."

Christina couldn't help it. She laughed until she snorted. "Sex?" she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Your superpower, Hubert, is sex?"

"Seduction, actually."

Hubert Hare met her eyes again, and this time she felt so dizzy that she actually fell backwards into her chair. He smiled at her and her heart started thumping again against her ribs. His gaze left her face and lingered for a moment on her collarbone before it traveled down. Her body grew warm under the scrutiny of his eyes as if he were actually touching her. She found herself considering the strength of the lock on the door and the sturdiness of her desk. She was a moment away from clearing its contents with one sweep of her arm when Hubert Hare said, "I told you."

His smile faded and Christina shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Look, I know this is a lot of information to take in at one time, but we need to move on this thing and we need to do it now. We cannot waste time."

"Wait," Christina said, still fighting both her hangover and Hubert Hare's pheromones. "If Nick is in the Holiday Hero Alliance, that means he's ... a holiday hero?"

Hubert Hare nodded.

Christina tried to think of any powers Nick could have been hiding. He couldn't fly; he wasn't especially strong or fast. He did have nice teeth, though. Maybe he was the Tooth Fairy.

Hubert seemed to read her mind. He said, "Have you ever been working on a case with Nick and time just seemed to stretch itself out. You only had ten minutes to find and diffuse a bomb, but that ten minutes seemed to turn into three hours? Have you ever noticed how good Nick is with kids, how drawn to him they are? Doesn't he always give you the most perfect gifts?"

"Oh, my God."


"But he's so ... young."

"We all transform near our own specific holidays. That's why Nick always takes vacation during December. Ms. Bryson, you understand now why this is a matter of the utmost importance. Your partner is missing, yes. But more importantly, Christmas is coming — and Santa Claus has been kidnapped."

Thursday, 26 November 2009

And finally, monsieur, a wafer-thin mint.

Jennie It being Thanksgiving and all, I doubt many of you are reading this right now. And if you are, you should go back to eating mashed potatoes and turkey and pie and stuffing and stuff. Although. Maybe you already did that and you're SO FULL that you couldn't possibly eat another bite. Is that it? I understand that. There's nothing more uncomfortable than eating so much that it feels like you swallowed a watermelon whole and then you think burping might help but you're afraid to burp because OMG what if you accidentally throw up? That would be embarrassing, say, if you were meeting your significant other's parents for the first time. "Oh, hello, nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. So and So, no I couldn't possibly eat another bite, no, seriously, I mean it, DON'T GIVE ME ANYMORE DAMN FOOD BAAAAAAAARF." See? Embarrassing.

And I don't know your family or anything, but my family? Would never let me live it down if I barfed over Thanksgiving dinner. I mean, with good reason. If one of them puked on the turkey, I'd bring it up all the time.

Anyway, my point is that it's totally sad when there's still so much food to eat but you can't eat anymore without throwing up everywhere. This is why someone needs to invent a pill that you can take before you start eating Thanksgiving dinner and taking this pill means YOU'LL NEVER GET FULL. But it has to wear off eventually, otherwise you'd keep eating and eating and eating (because you're still hungry!) until your stomach exploded and honestly? That's not any more attractive than throwing up on your relatives.

Or. OR! Someone should invent a teleporter. I know this has nothing to do with Thanksgiving, I just want one.

In conclusion, don't be this guy:

Happy Thanksgiving, Internets!

Wednesday, 25 November 2009

Once again as predicted left my broken heart open and you ripped it out.

I want a shrink ray so that when I go to hockey games and people sitting in front of me lean forward in their seats or wear douchey hats that cover up half the rink or spike their hair real high like a fucking Gotti guido, I can just pull out my ray gun and shrink the hell out of those motherfuckers.

Because seriously. The worst part about my Caps being so good this year is that assholes like these here assholes go to games now that it's the "cool" thing to do.

Shrink ray. I need one.

Tuesday, 24 November 2009

Schilbo and Hoagie's Bonus Fuckwit Firewall!

Collective Readers,

Yesterday we gave you the brand new, state of the art, communication interface, SHILAC!. But the common sense doesn't stop there! SHILAC! comes with a Bonus Fuckwit Firewall!

You know how using the internet is the best thing except all the time fuckwits are getting in the way and ruining it? Well, now you can enjoy the internet fuckwit-free. Simply install our firewall on the offender's computer and reap the benefits of peaceful, peaceful browning. (Coming soon: nominate users to be auto-firewalled!)

The Firewall will help internet user becoming better knowledge bearers and discerners through step-by-step questions, and in the worst case scenarios, take special netiquette classes.

Wipe the stupid off their face; get a copy today!

Monday, 23 November 2009

Introducing Schilbo and Hoagie's Insta-Logic And Liar Check with Bonus Fuckwit Firewall!

Schilbo and Hoagie's Insta-Logic And Liar Check (SHILAC!) with Bonus Fuckwit Firewall is a communications interface that will change the way the world receives and processes information.

SHILAC! was conceived by Abigail M. Schilling and Heather Anne Hogan, two business women in town on business, who would rather be punched in the face repeatedly, or forced to rewatch the most awkward parts of Glee, than be subjected to the deceit and fallacious arguments that dominate our media today. Abigail and Heather have been combating morons publicly (and bitching about them in private) for years. This project is the intersection of their passions and intelligence.

Abigail and Heather are students of awesomeness, religion, journalism, television and politics. They have had it up to here with America's political/social discourse (and malevolent/moronic internet trolls). When politicians aren't lying or using fake logic to prove their points, news pundits (and sometimes entire news stations) are doing it for them. This creates a culture of fear and purposeful misunderstanding that results in fringe zealots shouting at one another about "Pro-this" and "Anti-that" while the moderate, intelligent people turn off their televisions (or throw their laptops into the street) in disgust.

But now there's SHILAC!

SHILAC! will monitor news and commentary in real-time. When someone lies or uses insane logic to try to prove a point, the public will be alerted with the sound of an obnoxious buzzer. SHILAC! will audit television channels, radio stations, print news and magazines — and even the internet. Where people lie and deceive, SHILAC! will follow.

Please consider the following demonstration as these journalists discuss bears.

The first is Anti-Terrorist.

The second is Pro-Cuddle.

You see the pattern: Each journalist takes a sprinkling of truth and adds lies and faux-logic to instill fear.

Now view the Anti-Terrorist and Pro-Cuddle "news" as it is monitored by SHILAC!.



Our world has real problems. And we need people to stop screaming at one another so we can put our noggins together and solve them. Will we disagree? Oh, yes! But we will disagree about facts. We will stop fighting imaginary monsters.

Step one: SHILAC!

Please come back tomorrow when we present step two: the Fuckwit Firewall.

SHILAC! was inspired by XKCD, Jacob Clifton's Gossip Girl recaps, Wackopedia, Batwoman, and Agent Seeley Booth.

Friday, 20 November 2009

Phone It In Friday: Movies!

Two points of business this Friday morning:

1) If you could live in any movie, what would it be?

2) We need six volunteers to participate in a holiday continuous fiction fest! (You know, like The Halloweiner and Evil Summer II.) We'll start on Nov. 30. Comment and let us know if you're interested!

Thursday, 19 November 2009

You think. You wink. You do a double blink. You close your eyes...and jump!

Jennie When I was a kid, I thought movies were real. I don't mean real like they existed in the world but real like they could REALLY HAPPEN. I thought there were Gremlins hiding under my bed. I kept my eyes peeled in case E.T. showed up in my backyard. I tried clicking my heels three times to see if I would be magically transported home. I thought maybe animals could talk, but I just wasn't listening right. Most of all? I thought it was totally possible that I could fly if I tried hard enough.

I can't tell you how many times I tried to think happy thoughts and fly, my eyes screwed shut, fists clenched tight, jumping off of the top bunk and being shocked that I thumped to the floor instead of soaring through the air.

Seriously, every time my attempts to fly failed, I was SO SURPRISED. I thought I was just doing something wrong. I figured my thoughts weren't happy enough, so I thought of puppies and ice cream and Christmas and SNOW DAYS but still nothing. It was quite traumatizing. I even tried to launch myself off of things. Once, I stood on one end of a teeter totter and told my friend to push down as hard as he could on the other end. In my mind, I saw myself shooting into the air and assumed I would just KNOW how to fly once I was up there. This is what happened instead: my friend pushed on the upright end of the teeter totter, I slipped off of the other end and hit my head on the ground REALLY HARD.

You'd think this would have knocked some sense into me, but no. I was still determined to fly. When I saw The Rocketeer, I thought maybe I just needed a jet pack to fly but my parents wouldn't buy me one. Probably a pretty good idea considering I couldn't even avoid serious head trauma on a teeter totter.

I needed something safer than a jetpack, but more powerful than my apparently subpar happy thoughts. Finally it hit me: an umbrella!

Because, duh, Mary Poppins totally flew around with just an umbrella! And since Mary Poppins was OBVIOUSLY A REAL PERSON, I figured it might work for me, too.

SPOILER ALERT, it didn't work. No matter how many times I tried. And this is why I would like to be transported to Mary Poppins land. I was so jealous of those kids whenever I watched that movie. I was jealous of their British accents and their crazy neighbors, and that even cleaning their room was fun, and that they got to hang out with Mary Poppins all day long. Not only that, but they could dive into sidewalk drawings and fly (OK, float) just by laughing! I tried laughing as hard as I could and I NEVER floated up to the ceiling. You know what else never happened? My horse never jumped off the carousel, no matter how much I wished and wished for it.

I suppose a tiny part of me does still believe in the make-believe things, which is why I stock up on happy thoughts, click my heels three times whenever I want to go home (just in cases), and I always, ALWAYS, carry an umbrella.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

Man, we make our own movies.

We're the projectors
We're hosting the screening
We're dust in the spotlights
We're just kind of floating

And I believe that, I think, for the most part and generally whenever I'm sitting on the curb, looking left and looking right, wondering once again how the heck I got myself into yet another mess. It's amusing, the lengths I go to to keep myself amused. I mean, you give a girl enough rope and she's bound to hang herself, am I right? (Don't worry; the answer is "yes".) But mine is more a one-man show, the roles of both hero and villain played by yours truly, and often at the exact same time. What can I say, I'm complicated.

But think and think I did upon which of the great many movies in existence I'd inhabit would that I could, and not a one could I choose. And this is truth.

Oh heck fine. This one:

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

Tom Hanks. Meg Ryan. They get mail and stuff.

Do you guys know how much I love You've Got Mail? So much. So much that I could probably watch it every day and never get sick of it. It is a mystery to me how people don't like it. It's funny, it's quotable, it has lovable characters. (Plus, Greg Kinnear is in it.)

Living in this film (and being Kathleen Kelly) would be awesome because I'd get to a) live a beautiful, apparently affordable, apartment in New York City, b) own a bookstore(s), c) have Meg Ryan's hair, and d) send the best emails. I would shop at Zabaar's.

And when you're me and the most romantic thing is talking (in the dark, on the phone, you tell me the names of your brothers), then you're favorite romance is about talking. And when you're me and you love computers and typing, then you're favorite romance is about email.

So in addition to having bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils and zany lines by Steve Zahn, I would be in my favorite kind of love. The best kind of love. My kind of love.

Sunday, 15 November 2009

I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy


"Magic is always impossible. It begins with the impossible and it ends with the impossible and is impossible in between. That is why it is magic." - Kate DiCamillo, The Magician's Elephant

If you ask me what movie (or book) I'd like to live in/visit, you know I'm going to say Harry Potter.

It's not the wand-waving, really, that gets me. It's not that I think life would be easier if I could summon myself some breakfast. No, it's the very Narnian idea that the world is going on the way the world has always gone on -- like, maybe your adopted parents are dicks who deprive you of basic affection, or your boss is a twat, or your country's two-party political system is in fucking shambles because it's run by hacks and PACs and corporate interests and Jerry Falwell's ghost -- but somewhere in the sky owls are up to something.

So you're living your life in your cupboard under the stairs, or in your dimly-lit cubicle, and suddenly you get a letter inviting you to a school of magic. The letter isn't just awesome because it's hand-written in green ink on parchment (and delivered by an owl). The letter is awesome because it means: a) There is something special about you, which b) you suspected all along.

One day you control nothing, and the next day you're in Diagon Alley buying a wand or a toad or spell books or potion ingredients or a broomstick or any number of things you imagined were real, but could never convince yourself to fully believe. (See: cupboard.)

And if magic is true, what else is real? Dwarfs? Elves? Centaurs? Castles? Pixies? Fairies? Puffskins? Mermaids? Hippogriffs? Dragons?

Magic is for kids who took a playground beating for defending Santa Claus, kids who wore Halloween costumes year round, kids who built forts low to the ground so hobbits could rest in them in the night. It's for kids who slept better because Batman was only a signal away, for kids that believed Aslan's sacrifice was redemption for them.

Magic is the silver bell in The Polar Express, deep blue soul stuff. You have to train your adult ear to hear it.

I like a world where where loyalty and humor and intelligence and courage combine to create an unstoppable force. I like a world where an earnest, incompetent, forgetful boy can become a hero. I like a world where you can learn to be brave, because of the way people love you. I like a world where you can be the most powerful, well-respected wizard in history, and as gay as Welsh words are long.

I tell everyone when I get to Hogwarts it will be Hufflepuff, but my secret hope is Gryffindor. I tell everyone it's my empathy that will sort me, but my secret hope is valor. Not because I think I'm brave, but because the deepest, most desperate hope of my heart is that courage, like magic, is hiding somewhere inside of me.

Friday, 13 November 2009

Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.

Jennie Hi, Pam Beesley here. Jennie's brain, well, it's pretty fried from all the NaNoWriMo writing, so I offered to help her out, even though she keeps hitting on Jim and talking about how he's "on her list" or something. Whatever. I will kick her ass if she tries anything, I don't care how pregnant I am.

Anyway, I could only find one person to interview on such short notice, and I really only had one question.

Pam: Ben Franklin. Do you wear boxers, briefs, or pantaloons?
Ben Franklin: None of the above.
Pam: Oh, zing!

[note from the editor: I promise to put more thought into my posts after November.]

Thursday, 12 November 2009

live from jury duty!

To: Mr. Chewbacca
From: Kat!
Date: 09 April 08
Subject: Interview

Dear Mr. Chewbacca:

Can I please interview you for this Collective post for which I have no time to actually interview you?


To: Kat!
From: Chewy
Date: 09 April 08
Subject: Re: Interview


Don't ever email me again,

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

Interview with a Farmer

Guitar Hero and Rock Band became two of the most popular video game experiences in America despite nay-saying from professional musicians like Keith Urban and John Mayer. During its rise to market dominance, Mayer mocked Guitar Hero at every turn, calling it "driving one of those amusement-park cars on a track" as opposed to driving a Ferrari.

People often have trouble accepting video game versions their passions. And it's no different with Zynga Games' latest sensation, FarmVille.

When I called R.T. Choke, a local farm supply store owner, to set up an interview about FarmVille I could tell he was disgruntled — but I didn't realize how upset he was until I showed up at his store.

I was greeted at the front door with the following signs:

The following is the transcript of our conversation:

Schilbo: Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Choke.

R.T. Choke: It's fine, it's not like I have anything better to do besides answer questions about damn topiaries.

Schilbo: So, judging by the signs on your door, FarmVille has really changed the way people shop for farm supplies.

R.T. Choke: You think? Yesterday somebody called to ask me if I had any fully-grown blueberries for sale and when I told him no, he said he'd call back in four hours. What a damn moron.

Schilbo: Oh, because FarmVille blueberries are ready in four hours?

R.T. Choke: I don't know about that. All I know is I've been making a good living selling farm supplies, I've had a lot of happy customers, and now people want cows that produce flavored milk and cats that produce yarn and pigs that produce truffles. Truffles! You know what I say to that? I say, Lady, you know what a pig produces? Bacon. Delicious bacon and delicious sausage.

Schilbo: Yikes.

R.T. Choke: And what about all this other bullshit? Halloween decorations! Gravestones with real ghosts and light-up jack-o-lanterns and man-eating pumpkin plants? And then there was apparently hot air balloons with black sheep inside. NO, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET YOUR SHEEP OUT OF YOUR BALLOON. God only knows what kind of crap people are going to be wanting over Christmas. Red and green bales of hay, Christmas trees that grow in 90 minutes.

Schilbo: Ohhhkay. So, has FarmVille helped you out financially?

R.T. Choke: Hell no. It's basic supply and demand. Look at this chart:

Everybody on damn FarmVille buys up all the strawberries and drives up the price and you know what's going to happen when ACTUAL strawberry season gets here?

Schilbo: No.

R.T. Choke: Well, I'll tell you. Strawberry plants are going to cost an arm and a leg. AN ARM AND A LEG.

Schilbo: That will be tough for you, huh? Since you only accept cash and credit cards.

R.T. Choke: Oh, you're a wise-ass, are you?

Schilbo: Well, I...

R.T. Choke: And let me guess, you're a damn FarmVille farmer, aren't you?

Schilbo: Yeah. I mean, I'm pretty good. I—

R.T. Choke: Get out of my store!

Schilbo: I'm sorry?


Schilbo: OK, but —

R.T. Choke: OUT!

I was sorry to see that local farmers aren't embracing the FarmVille phenomenon, but it turned out OK that Mr. Choke kicked me out of his farm supply store. I needed to get home anyway. I've got a million blackberries to go to achieve full mastery, and those things aren't going to harvest themselves.

Sunday, 8 November 2009

A Whole New World: Interview with the Disney Princesses

heather This holiday season, the first animated African American princess will dance and sing her way onto the silver screen (and into our hearts) in Disney's much-hyped return to 2D animation, The Princess and the Frog. To mark the significance of the event (and preemptively celebrate the hundred gajillion dollars worth of Princess Tiana dolls Santa will deliver this Christmas), Disney's Magic Kingdom held an elaborate induction ceremony last month for their newest royal family member.

After the ceremony — which included a lot of kiss-blowing, scroll-reading and twirling on a river boat — I sat down with Tiana and her new best friends to talk about fashion, love, and what it's really like to be a Princess.

Collective: Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today. Tiana, how does it feel to be an official Disney Princess?

Tiana: It's just a dream come true. Prince Naveen is always saying: when you wish upon a star, it makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires will come to you!

Snow White: Oh, my Mickey.

Tiana: Pardon?

Snow White: Nothing. Go ahead.

Collective: Erm, OK. So, um, Tiana, are you excited that The Princess and the Frog will finally hit theaters in December?

Tiana: Yes, Naveen and I are so ecstatic about our chance to —

Snow White: [deep, exasperated sigh]

Tiana: I'm sorry; have I done something to upset you, Snow White?

Snow White: You don't have to bring up Naveen every time somebody asks you a question.

Tiana: I know, but we're so happy together and my heart just feels like it will burst if I don't sing about our love!

Snow White: Well, it won't.

Collective: Is this a bad time?

Cinderella: Oh, just ignore Snowy. She's upset because her film is going back into the Vault soon. She gets like this every time we get a new Princess.

Snow White: I do not!

Ariel: Yes, you do. And to make matters worse, I heard you and a certain Dwarf were caught in a compromising position in the Swiss Family treehouse this morning, and Donald threatened not to let you come to the ceremony at all.

Snow White: Oh, you're one to talk about compromising positions! You get ridden more than Space Mountain!

Jasmine: Whoa! Too far, Snowy!

Collective: Wow. Um. You know, I can come back later if ...

Jasmine: No, it's fine. Please go ahead.

Collective: OK. Um. So, Tiana, how does — Sorry, I just ... I mean, I thought all of you were married to the princes from your movies.

Sleeping Beauty: Some of us are married to the princes from our movies.

Mulan: Yeah, and some of us realize Eisenhower is no longer in office and we don't have to stay in loveless relationships and give up our jobs so that big, strong men can feel included in society.

Cinderella: Yes, some of us have left big, strong men out of our lives entirely.

Mulan: A lot of good a "big, strong man" has done you. The last time you got laid was ... never.

Cinderella: How dare you, you opposite-marrying trollop!

Collective: Hang on. Mulan, you're gay?

Mulan: Yep.

Collective: Wow, that makes so much sense. And who are you dating?

Mulan: Meg. You know, from Hercules.

Collective: Oh yeah! At least out loud, I won't say I'm in loooove. Great song. So, who is Hercules seeing?

Ariel: He's actually married to Prince Eric.

Collective: OK, that also makes so much sense. Are you dating anyone, Ariel?

Jasmine: She's with Aladdin.

Ariel: It's a whole new world, I'll tell you that. Aladdin knows his way around a magic carpet.

Jasmine: You know, he really does! I had forgotten! Is he still, like, way overly-fond of Xtina's "Genie in a Bottle," though?

Ariel: OMM, yes! Gotta rub me the right way, honey.

Jamine: Ha ha ha! Oh, good times.

Collective: OK, so Jasmine, you're dating...

Ariel: Eh, she's kind of seeing Buzz Lightyear and Belle's old flame.

Collective: Belle, you're not with the Beast anymore?

Belle: Hmm? Sorry, I just had —

Mulan: A dreamy far-off look.

Jasmine: And your nose stuck in a book.

Belle: Oh, you two, hush!

Collective: I was just wondering if you're dating anyone.

Belle: I've been seeing Prince Harry.

Collective: Like, the Prince Harry?

Belle: Mmm hmm.

Collective: Wow. That's ... a lot of information. Um, so, you guys live in the Magic Kingdom, but did you know there are millions of little girls around the world that are just completely enamored with you? Besides your movies, there are coloring books and dolls and costumes. I had five Disney Princesses trick-or-treat at my house for Halloween.

Sleeping Beauty: Ooh, who were they dressed as?

Cinderella: Yes, who were they?

Collective: Oh, I ... uh ... don't remember.

Sleeping Beauty: Yes, you do! Just tell us!

Collective I think there were two Snow Whites, two Cinderellas and an Ariel.

Sleeping Beauty: An Ariel! She doesn't even have legs, for Minnie's sake!

Ariel: I have legs!

Cinderella: And an ass the size of a Hatter's teacup.

Mulan: Cindy, shut up.

Jasmine: Guys, come on; this is getting ridiculous.

Snow White: You're ridiculous. Go put some clothes on; you look like a common prostitute.

Jasmine: Give me a break; your best friend is Betty Boop.

Tiana: You guys, this should be the happiest day of my life, and I am SO SAD NOW!

Jasmine: Didn't you bring any booze with you from the French Quarter?

Collective: OK, you know what? This is plenty of information. Tiana, congratulations on becoming a princess. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to show the video of your induction ceremony instead of running this interview.

Thursday, 5 November 2009

Wednesday, 4 November 2009


You said you'd get the ice before I even asked, and that's when I knew I'd lose myself.

Tuesday, 3 November 2009



Using a compass and yellowed forest maps, we had found our way into nowhere -- careful mistep followed by careful mistep -- when I heard firecrackers boom in a town far away and cried.

Sunday, 1 November 2009

One Sentence


I would have been happy to continue standing there in my plaid feet-y pajamas, wailing about the Facts of Life, if my dad hadn't opened my bedroom door to throw a full glass of water into my face.