"¡Señor, aquí!"

                You know how when the quarter back or something wins the Super Bowl and the reporter asks what they’re going to do next they say, “I’m going to Disney World!” Well that actually happens. Celebrities like Disney World just as much as the kids in the commercials.

                Let’s go back in time. I worked at Disney World for four months at the Rockin’ Roller Coaster Starring Aerosmith at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. It was the FUNNEST! One: I worked at the happiest place on earth. Two: I worked at the best ride. C: I spent my days off drinking margaritas and lokos at the happiest place on earth. I lived in Disney Housing with five other straight boys which was a testament and a blessing. They were all super awesome and we spent many a day together discussing fashion choices and what girls are thinking.

                My friends and I had adventures on the party bus which was basically a coach bus that took us from our apartments to da clubs fo ten dinero. ITWASTHEBESTDEALEVER! We got mocha by the pool. We rode rides hoping that they would break down. (Getting evacuated off a ride was our dream.) And then we would go to work and complain about all the guests and how they need to not yell at us when the line is longer than an hour.

                Well, I soon found out that if I wanted to see a celebrity, I was a good ride to do it. The Rockin’ Roller Coaster Starring Aerosmith is the only upside down roller coaster at Disney so all the big kids want to ride it. The best position to be in to see a star is at unload where everyone gets off the ride. Guest Relations will take the celebrity up through the gift shop and tell us that their guest needs to get on at unload. We have to think of an excuse to talk to the celebrity because if we fawn over them or give them too much attention, we could get fired. So when I saw Michael Buble I said, “Uh, do you guys want to ride again or…” And he said, “No that’s okay. Thanks, man.” Michael Buble smells really good and his wife is gorgeous and she doesn’t speak any English. Lahv et.

                But I soon found out that all the celebrities hated me. It was as if I was the person that inspired private events on Fachelibro. I was always on break or in an outside position when they would ride the ride! I would hear, “Just saw Courtney Cox!” and “Christina Aguilera was here. She looks really fat” and “Just fist pumped A-Rod.” Up until one of the most embarrassing days of my life, I had only met Tia Mowry from Sister Sister and fist pumped a bunch of football players on ESPN weekend but of course I had no idea who any of them were.

                My friend, Amanda was working at unload one day and Guest Relations told her that they were going to have someone load at unload and she was like, OK whatever. So this guy walks up to her and they start small talking, “How are you?” “Oh I’m from New Jersey” “New Jersey! Me too!” Well, the guy and his family get on the ride and sit in the front car and get the whole train to themselves. When they come around again Amanda tells them to sit in row six because it’s the fastest row. So they do and they love it. The entire time, however, this old guy keeps smiling at her and winking at her and she just assumes that he is a rich, creepy, old man. They leave and thank her and Amanda is none the wiser. The rich, creepy, old man was Bruce Willis.

                So I’m pissed! I saw stupid Michael Buble and Tia Mowry. Big Deal. Then, as I was giving up hope on hanging out with Tina Fey’s daughter (as did my friend, Nicky) I arrived at one of the most embarrassing days of my life. I was at unload, checking to see if anyone left something in their seat when Guest Relations tells me what’s going down. I get super excited and I look! … And it’s just some stupid family and I didn’t recognize any of them. So they are getting in the train and the dad is collecting bags and such and then he just stands there waiting for them to leave. Why he didn’t want to ride, I don’t know.

This is the dad but he was wearing khakis and a polo.

So I say, “Sir, I need you to step right behind this gate over here.” (Because no one can be in front of the gates except cast-members.) “Right over here, sir.” The man apparently does not understand me. “¡Señor, aquí! ¡Aquí! ¡Aquí!” Then, a man I did not see before from behind the gate says, “He doesn’t speak Spanish.” The man is wearing an Agent Smith earpiece and a fedora. Well the dad figures out what I’m trying to tell him and steps behind the gate with Agent Smith. The Guest Relations lady walks over to me and I say, “So who are these people?” and she says, “Oh. That’s the Royal Family of Morocco.”

…

Later that day I look them up on Wikipedia and I was floored. I told the King of Morocco, in Spanish, in my most impatient tone, to step behind the gate. They weren’t wearing crowns or anything! They looked just like a normal family! AND they totally looked Hispanic and not Middle Eastern.  I guess that Agent Smith was part of their secret service. The only actually really cool people that I met I was impatient with. Cool, Brad. Really cool.

So what can we learn from this story? Christina Aguilera seriously needs to lose her baby weight, that’s what.

Baby You're a Firework

                “We’re going to the dykes to watch the hillbillies and fireworks. What snacks should we bring?” This is said nearly every year on our day of independence; Independence Day. There is no good way to describe all the insane things that happen so we’ll just go in whichever order pops into my head.

                One year when I was really little, like, four or five, my sister Sam was super sick and I don’t know why we didn’t bring her to the hospital or something but she was puking her brains out and I was so annoyed with her. We had the blanket set up on the hill where we used to watch the fireworks and the night went something like this-

BOOM

 (gasp) “Cool"

(retching )

BOOM BOOM BOOM

“Awesome! Sam, look at that one!”

(vomit dripping down her chin, her four year old head weakly rises)

                Then, one year, we found this really great spot next to Carousel Skate! Carousel Skate is the most ghetto place in Sioux Falls. It’s a literal ghetto where parents and schools exile their children to fall on a slippery floor. When I was twelve, I loved it.

                The grand stands in Sioux Falls are across the river (The Big Sioux) from Carousel Skate and people pay something silly like five bucks to watch the fireworks on bleachers. Well, we would drive out the pick-up behind Carousel Skate and pile a whole bunch of blankets in the bed of the truck and watch the fireworks from the opposite side of the grand stands. For some reason we call this place the dykes.  The dykes are the most dangerous part of Sioux Falls, South Dakota for one night as other people have figured out this secret and they light off fireworks in the parking lots, out of their cars, into the river, at each other. It’s magnificent.

                The fourth is also Sarah’s birthday and I think that we have a tape of her every year opening presents and eating cake. (For several years she wanted fun-fetti cake with candy corn scattered in and on it. This year was a fun-fetti cake with gummy worms.) I have only found two tapes of Whitney’s birthday. So...

                Sarah also went through a faze where she was obsessed with Barbies. Granted, I did as well. That faze lasted for twelve years. So one year, my uncle gave Sarah this super nice, fancy, expensive, collectors Barbie. He said, “Now that’s a collector’s edition one. Make sure you keep that somewhere safe and don’t open it.” Barbie was getting a new hair style half an hour later. Two weeks later, she lost both her shoes. A month later, she was swimming in the Barbie pool with dandelions with significantly shorter hair.

                When I was old enough to drive (which was when I was fourteen- Go South Dakota!) my bff Rachael and I would park my car at the dykes SIX HOURS before night fall to make sure that we got the best spot. We would bring games and eat chips and make fun of the people who would trickle in after us. Since we were by the ghetto, at a place called the dykes, where people would shoot roman candles at each other, we were among a crowd that could be described as “trash” but could mostly be described as “South Dakota.” The prarie-billies bring their lawn chairs, their grills, firecrackers, babies; basically, anything they think they might need. 

                At nightfall, the fireworks begin and Rachael and I have made a game to describe each firework with an appropriate adjective. This year was by far the best year of adjectives and we left with a sense of accomplishment.

BOOM

“Astonishing!”

BOOM

“Meh. Subpar”

BOOM

“Glamorous!”

“Shocking!”

“Good.”

“Seizure inducing!”

 “Apocalyptic!”

Rachael would like the record to state that she thought of the last two.

                This year was the best year of the prairie-billies as well. First of all, someone drove their eighteen-wheeler out and backed it up to the hill next to the river. There wasn’t any cargo so the family just hung out on the back on the bed. It was sort of like how we do but obnoxious. There were American flag shirts galore. Every time Rachael would see one she would chant, “U-S-A all-the-way!” There were two little girls playing on top of a trailer in one of the parking lots. One family, however, took the cake. They drove out their cherry picker next to the semi and then proceeded to raise themselves thirty feet in the air to see the show across the river. Thirty feet. 

 The lift went even higher than shown above. And there's the semi...

 Notice the two kids giving the thumbs up. Lahv et.

We parked our car on the grass to the left of this photo. This car is supposed to be fifteen feet from the fire hydrant so... Whenever anyone tried to park in front of the the fire hydrant, Rachael would shout, "ILLEGAL! That's illegal." It wasn't so much about fire safety as much as we just wanted to keep the view clear.

              When the celebrating our independence is over, we drive back to civilization and hope that my car doesn’t get hit with a bottle rocket. (That happened one time.) What can we learn from the Fourth of July? Sarah was born on a holiday and is still the favorite. Sorry, Whit.

You Don't Take Criticism Very Well

                There are several things that you can say to win any argument at any time. I believe that I am a grande cup full of winner because I have had plenty of successful fights with people. Any argument can be won in just three steps.

One: Just say, “You’re so crazy!”

I worked at Disney World for four months and there were people screaming at me constantly. Sometimes because the line was too long or because someone jumped the line or because their child was too short or because the ride wasn’t working or because they are just stressed out and I am the closest person that they can yell at. WELL. To head off someone who looks like they might blame you for something or ask you something that you can’t answer, you just have to say this: “You’re so crazy!” They key is to walk away after you say it, though.

For example: 

Person: Excuse me, why is this ride always broken?

You: You’re so crazy! (walk away leaving the person looking like a dumbfounded)

Person: Um, I asked for my drink iced.

You: You’re so crazy! (walk away leaving the person trying to decide if what they said actually was crazy)

Person: Did you tell everyone that I’m pregnant!?

You: You’re so crazy! (or maybe just say “no”)

Two: Just say, “You don’t take criticism very well.”

                This can work in several areas. Let’s say that you are in the thick of an argument and it’s clear that you are in the wrong. All you have to do is say, “I just don’t think you take criticism very well.” Or maybe you’re in a situation where you have to tell someone something they don’t want to hear, and then you start the conversation with just that.

For example:

Person: But you don’t understand how that affects me!

You: No I do! But you just don’t take criticism very well!

Person: Are you kidding me?!

You: See?

Three: Just say, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

                Let’s say that you have tried the other two steps and they just won’t stop bothering you. The thing that you need to remember is most people think that whoever has the last word of the fight wins. This may sounds silly but it’s true. Pretend that you are in an actual fight. Whoever throws the last punch looks the biggest and toughest. The same goes here.

For example:

Person: You can’t spray paint my dog! You can’t!

You: Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. 

Also keep in mind that this works great if they demand an apology from you. 

Now let’s put all of these things together: 

Person: I think that they should bring back the Joker for the next Batman movie.

You: You’re so crazy! (Try to walk away)

Person: No, seriously. They wanted him to be in the third movie. They could even use unused footage from the Dark Knight.

You: That’s dumb.

Person: No it isn’t!

You: Jeez, you don’t take criticism very well.

Person: What? No! I’m just saying it doesn’t make sense for the Joker to have such a huge part and then just disappear.

You: See?

Person: I’m just saying!-

You: Seeee?

Person: Are you kidding me?! You’re so stupid!

You: I’m sorry you feel that way.

                Of course all of these expressions depend on the situation but I have found that they work better in the work place and not as well on your friends. What can we learn from this? Heath Ledger is dead. Get over it.

The Lockdown

                I thought I was pretty cool my senior year in high school. I went to a private school so everyone had to wear uniforms which consisted of dress shoes, khaki pants, a belt, and a polo shirt. “Dress down days” were the BEST THING EVER! These were days where we could wear whatever we wanted. The whole school went to Mass every Wednesday and most people loved Jesus. Well I was a rebel. Sometimes I didn’t wear a belt. I know right?!  Sometimes I wore this disgusting blue polo from the seventies which was way too tight with front buttons going way down past anywhere socially acceptable. AND SOMETIMES I wore converse to school. I got detention. I was legit BA. That stands for legitimate bad ass. 

                One of the best and worst qualities about my school was we excelled in most of our extra-curricular activities including sports. Seeing as we were all spoiled rich kids we had a very little understanding of what it meant to lose at something or to be stupid or poor. (Brad, you’re just ranting.) Um, no, other voice in my head. You just wait. This all has meaning and purpose. 

                My senior year consisted of half the school being torn down for a newer better school with innovative things like air conditioning. So half the time the Intercom system didn’t work and sometimes the fire alarms would go off at random. It was great fun. The day of the lockdown started like any other day; I was gossiping about somebody, I didn’t do my homework, and we had just beat one of the public schools in some sport that I was completely unaware of. And now, I will switch to present tense to add dramatic effect. 

                I’m in my speech class and the bell rings so we all go out in the hallway and no one else there. So immediately we all act like babies whose bottle was taken away: A look of confusion and yelling. “Where is everybody!” Then the poor Algebra teacher runs in the hall and screams at us to get back in our class because the school was on Lockdown. This was the best news ever. Lockdowns are amazing. Once a year we would have a lockdown drill and it was the best excuse giggle in the corner and text. So we all cheer and run back to class and do just that.

                Then, Chloe checks her phone and sees that she already has a text from her mom asking if she’s okay. That’s weird. Then our speech teacher checks the internet (The World Wide Web) and sees that our school is on the news. Little did we know that we had been on Lockdown for over half an hour. We didn’t hear the intercom announcement in our class because of the construction so we all start to worry just a bit. 

                Meanwhile. My friend Rachael is choir class and they are practicing in the auditorium. They hear the announcement and everyone goes down to the costume room. The costume room is a closet with a couple mirrors and a cage filled with dresses that a house elf could comfortably live in. The theatre class was crammed in there that day practicing stage make-up. With the theatre and choir classes combined there was over eighty squashed in a closet cowering for their lives. Someone was probably touched inappropriately. The teachers were equally as scared as they couldn’t lock the door. They acted something like this:

They then turn off the lights to which the glow in the dark paint fulfilled its purpose and displayed penises covering the walls. Keep in mind that everyone in that room knew that there was an actual intruder in the school and they might die in that little hamster pen. 

I’m still in the speech classroom and we waited for another forty five minutes for the all clear. The teacher was contemplating the best way to break through the window and people were saying things like, “I wonder if it’s the public school kids.” Then, we hear from the next classroom over that the assistant principle announces that the lockdown is over and that we can go to our next class. One girl in my class says, “What if the intruder is holding a gun to her head and forcing her to say that?”

Every class empties into the hallway. We all start laughing and talking. Then we see them. There are at least six men in the hallway holding giant-ass guns and they all start screaming at us. The next ten seconds were an out of body experience and it was as though I was laying on my couch watching a movie of what happened. Everyone started screaming, papers and books were flying though the air; I’m surprised somebody didn’t get trampled. The doors in the school were made of super heavy wood and as soon as the teachers heard screaming, they closed the doors were shut as fast as possible echoing the sounds of gunshots. So every time a door closed everyone would scream, duck their body, and cover their hands over their head.  Students were crying and pounding on the doors pleading for the teachers to let them back in. In other classes desks were being flipped over to use as shields. One kid (this is so high school) took a picture of a teacher’s butt with his cell phone when she was crouched on the ground. He then sent the picture to his friends as if to say, “Hey look. It’s our teacher’s butt.” We stampede back to class and hide in the corner, half the class in tears. The whole scenario looked something like this:

We were then called out of our classes for a second time to find out that the SWAT team was dressed in civilian clothing. There was some miscommunication (duh) and the assistant principle had announced the all clear when they had known none the wiser. The “intruders” happened to be students in the drama class who had decided to do camouflage make-up for their assignment. They also thought it would be a good idea to wear their army gear and walk around the school. The principal’s office saw them on the camera’s, didn’t recognize them, and called for the lockdown. The “intruders” heard the announcement and hid in the locker rooms with the gym class from themselves. 

What can we learn from this story? Regardless of how cool you think you are, polos from the seventies belong in the seventies.