Sorry Latisha, there are no black princesses at Disneyworld!

(Above is a view of "Cinderellabration." I didn't take any pictures because the images seared into my mind are the only photo album I'll ever need. Also, all the people in the photo have normal-sized heads, but you need to imagine them as having totally round, genderless bodies. I have never, ever seen so many fat people as I did at Disneyworld.)

I think perhaps the lowest point in my recent life was when I was forced to fly to Florida for my sister's college graduation. Not that I have anything of real substance against my sister--except that she is some kind of bizzaro version of me who made me look like a total sweaty freak the whole time I was growing up because she was so cute and popular, and above all, NORMAL. Now, to me, "normal" is a very special kind of cultural impoverishment, and my sister is practically typical in every way. She picked the perfect place to attend college and join a sorority: Florida--a state ranking high on the list of national embarassments (although there are SO many). Florida was one of the first states to outlaw gay adoption, and it has a host of other nasty little laws on the books. Florida is exactly the kind of state that gets thrown at the second-string relatives of the totally rich fucktards who are now in charge. EVERYTHING there--the people, the buildings, the stores--is like a promotional prize; shiny and squeaky, but with a complete and utter lack of structure or essence. Everything looks like something you might see on the shelves at Dollar General. It is truly the desert of the real.

Anyway, here are some of the things that occurred:

--I had to go to an undergraduate ceremony during finals week, during which I was writing a total of 4 twenty-page papers. I had already missed my Master's graduation the year before to attend my brother's graduation, but shucks--no one ever really noticed.
--Straight from the airport, I was whisked to a barbecque at which there was absolutely no vegan food and the fierce Florida mosquitoes feasted on my tofu-enriched blood.
--I experienced shock at how fat my sister had become, and spent at least half an hour staring at the curve of her stomach and convincing myself that she wasn't, indeed, pregnant.
--Although it was a balmy 80+ degrees out, I couldn't wear any T-shirts because my tattoos would show and then everyone would foam at the mouth and lose their minds.
--I had to sleep on an air matress on the floor of my sister's walk-in closet because my family saved money on a hotel so that...
--...we could go to DISNEYWORLD, the fucking most awful place on earth! The most terrible thing that happened during the TEN FUCKING HOURS I was trapped at Disneyworld was being forced to watch a song-and-dance number called "Cinderellabration," in which all the other princesses crowned Cinderella queen. The message of Cinderellabration was that "every girl is a princess," in case you wondered. However, there are also no black princesses allowed at Disneyworld because "there are no black princesses in the movies." Hello! There are no black people IN ANY of the movies (and Whoopie playing a hyena doesn't count). This is a rather pathetic claim to realism, considering that many of the other characters are talking animals. But the most horrible part of this whole thing was that I actually got mad at the fat sacks of lard that were blocking my view of Cinderella's castle. I should have thanked them, and then looked for someone to puncture my eardrums with a corndog stick.
--But the worst, the ABSOLUTE WORST thing that happened (and it takes a lot to top the magic kingdom), was when a 300-pound woman in a wheelchair ran over my foot while my family was waiting for a table in a restaurant that served 30 different kinds of cheesecake. You should have seen the shit-caked toilets at that establishment--it would have made you think twice about ever eating cream cheese again.

--Q