Why I would make a lousy Disney Princess by Bad Girl

Bad Girl here, with a sad revelation.  I would make a lousy Disney Princess.  This goes back to my early childhood days, when it occurred to me that being a princess might actually suck.  “Princess? 

Why would I want to be a freaking princess?  Doesn’t the Queen have all the power?  Who cares about being pretty and wearing pink.  Give me control of the charge card, thank you very much.  And the castle, while you’re at it.”

Okay, so I may have a slight aversion to the helpless female trope.  It frustrated the hell out of me that every damned fairytale princess was a helpless ninny.  What kind of role model is that?

So it occurred to me that a few scripts could use some rewriting.  Dialogue is my thing, so here goes.  (With apologies to just about everybody in the entire world.)

Cinderella:  “What do you mean, I have to sweep all the floors in here?  Is this the dark ages or something?  You’re clearly affluent, right? Hey! You! Pick up the phone and call Molly Maids.”

Sleeping Beauty:  “You’ve got to be kidding.  Sleep for 100 years? <hysterical laughter> I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in years, and I’ve tried everything, believe me.  Melatonin, meditation, little blue pills… Listen, sister, if you think you can spell-me, BRING IT ON.  Don’t bother with the mincey Prince, either.”

Snow White:  “Em…thanks very much for the offer of a real Prince, but I’ll pass.  I’m doing pretty well here with these seven dwarfs. In fact, Grumpy isn’t grumpy any more, and I’m thinking of renaming him Randy…”

I’ll stop there, before the hate mail starts.

Okay, so I think we all agree that I would make a lousy Disney Princess.  All is not lost though.  I make a damn-good Jewish one.

More comedy about a mob princess!  Just launched at Chapters, Barnes &Noble, Amazon and all the usual suspects.  Book 5 in the award-winning Goddaughter series.

Renovation? Aggravation! (comedy reprinted from the places that pay me)

I wanted to buy a new front door the other day.  This has become necessary because the old front door is no longer functioning as a door in the usual sense.  'Wind Tunnel' or 'Interstate highway for neighbourhood field mice' might be a better description.

But as always, things have changed in the world of destruction and aggravation aka construction and renovation.  Apparently you can’t buy a door anymore.  They don’t make them, according to the sales clerk (excuse me… 'Customer Service Associate.')  Apparently you now buy an 'Entry System.'

“But I already have an Entry System,”  I explained.  “The mice are entering all the time.  What I want is something to keep them out.  Like a door.”

“Let me show you how this works,” he offered.  He then demonstrated how to insert a key in the lock and turn the doorknob to activate the Entry System.  Not unlike my old door, in fact.  I pointed this out.

“But this is a great improvement,” he argued.  “See?  It’s Pre-hung.”

‘Pre-hung' – for construction illiterates – does not mean you have a hunky construction worker standing by, ready and willing.  Nope.  Pre-hung means that you don’t have to undo three hinges to slip the old door off and install the new door.  Instead, the new door already comes with a frame (and sometimes side windows) attached.  To install, you simply demolish the old door frame and rebuild the entire entranceway to fit the new pre-hung frame.  It requires 3 men and a boy, and at least two weeks of labour and Starbuck's runs.  But you don’t have to touch those pesky hinges, which is a big improvement.

Not surprisingly, Entry Systems cost a lot more than mere doors.  This, I pointed out, was not an improvement.

One more thing bothers me about all this fancy renaming business.  If they insist on calling doors ‘Entry Systems,’ just what are we going to end up calling toilets?  Exit Systems?