Going to Disneyworld. And Yet, We Hate Mice.

As I slop down this blog, it occurs to me that we only have two more days until the end of our semester.

I would celebrate this fact, but exhaustion prevents me from doing anything more than breathing and blinking.

If the stars align a little later, I’m going to take blinking out of the equation during what I believe is a well-deserved nap (which I’ve noticed Buddy the Dog is doing… for the last 4 1/2 hours… straight… hasn’t moved… may be dead for all I know…).

Once school is out I won’t have time to celebrate or nap.Since When Do Humans Like Mice?

You see (or read), we are going on a Griswold Family Vacation.  But not to Walley World.



Yeah, you heard me.  Disneyworld and I’m not happy about it.

Why my disgust?

I don’t know.  Maybe you should ask the Tech Queen.  She doesn’t want to go either.

I’m assuming after typing the last 3 sentences that we qualify for the “Worst Parents Ever Award”.  Hopefully, the trophy presentation will be held next week so I won’t have to go to Disney.

Neither of us has ever been to Disneyworld or Disneyland.

Actually, we don’t even know which is which.  As Chevy Chase as my witness, I don’t know which one is in Orlando but I’m about to find out.

“The Happiest Place on Earth”.  Really?

I don’t think so.

I think the Happiest Place on Earth is the Teacher’s Lounge 45 seconds after the bell rings the day Winter or Summer Vacation begins.

All of those stale left-over treats (why can’t teachers put the lid back on the Tupperware container???) and no kids within 500 feet.

I’ve noticed people come out of the woodwork when I say we don’t want to go to Disney.

It’s the same people who bugged me about “When are you getting married?” and “When are  you starting a family?” and “When are you going to take some anger management classes?”

I hate those people.

I’m not overly enthusiastic about spending Christmas standing in line for a ride on which I could die.  I get enough experience with vomiting at work.

Plus, I’m assuming these rides are run and maintained by disillusioned carnie workers.

Don’t misunderstand me.  The carnie workers are my people.

I’m a big fan of anyone with a combined total of 17 tattoos and piercings (there goes my readership from county fair employees and tattoo shops…).

I just don’t want them double-checking (or not) all of the bolts on a thrill ride seconds before my untimely death.

I want to go out like Buddy.  In my sleep (he’s not really dead… just tired from… all of his previous naps).

As an added bonus, I’m assuming there will be other children at Disney.

Don’t get me wrong.  I like kids.

I love mine.

I just don’t like other people’s kids when I’m on vacation.

I only like other kids when I’m at school.

Maybe that’s because I can’t control them when I’m not working at school.

Or more likely, it’s because their parents can’t control them.

We will have to make sure we pack our “Teacher’s Looks”.  I love firing those off in public when parents aren’t looking.

I guess it doesn’t matter.  I will be spending 7 days getting my picture taken with Mickey, dining with princesses, and purchasing $14 dollar bottled-waters.

Maybe we will like it.  And if we don’t, at least I’ll have something to blog about.

So next Wednesday we will be flying to Disneyworld (I think that’s the one in Florida).

Unless of course, the park is closed when we arrive.

And just like Clark Griswold, that would make me angry.

I mean angrier.

“Sorry folks, park’s closed. Moose (or Mouse) out front shoulda told ya.”

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