<friday march 28, 2003 - 9:00 a.m.>

I bought myself a funky new coat. It's dark red, plastic/rubberized, with a shiny purple liner. It rocks. This is a power coat. It is the Very Definition of Me.

(!)

Have a good weekend everyone.

a

<saturday march 22, 2003 - 10:00 p.m.>

This segment from yesterdays entry: I have experienced an event that has seared my eyeballs. I am traumatized for life.

What caused this horror... this mental scarring?

It can only be one thing: Disney on Ice.

I barely survived with my brain intact.

During the drive there I stared out into the passing darkness, dreading the theatrical atrocity which I was about to witness. I kept telling myself, like some kind of mantra, I'm doing this for the girls, I'm doing this for the girls, this is going to be fun, this is going to be fun. I tried to convince myself that it all depended on my outlook. If I expected the worst I would get the worst. I had to be positive about this and have a GREAT TIME!

Much like ticker tape, as soon as that thought finished, another followed on its heels: "this is going to be awful" and "why are we going to this again?" FYI - tickets were gratis, that's why.

Mark dropped us off at the door because it was raining and we didn't have umbrellas. He drove away, and I was stranded there with Emma and Sarah, facing a firing line of merchandise. Suffice it to say, every item was crap and terribly overpriced for what it was.

I should mention the production we were attending was a melange of Jungle Book, Tarzan and Lion King, a musical bastardization of three Disney movies - which in effect is already a bastardization of a story before it. So it's the offspring of a bastardization.

Sarah just held my hand (I doubted she could see past all the legs around her) but Emma could see tempting flashes of toys. The Lure, as it were.

The Lure was strong. And there began the "I wants" that every parent loathes. I quickly grew tired of saying no, but I wasn't going to give in. I hoped that Mark would be quick. There was nowhere to go to avoid all the stuff.

Everything along these tables was somehow linked to a jungle theme. They had both genders equally covered, but nothing was cheap. Stuffed toys, magic wands and swords that lit up... A plastic jungle hat and colouring book - ten bucks.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mark running in the door. Hallelujah there's daddy!

"I need money for parking... "

I forked over some cash only to have him run out again, leaving me among the toy gallery and the crowds. But this time he gave me the tickets. Hand in hand we three slowly made our way to our seats. Along the way we bought some snakcs. Sarah also tried to hug a perfect stranger in the line up.

We settled down. The girls were glued to their seats (and their chip bags) and waited for the show to begin.

Walking through the seating area there were more people hawking the merch, dammit, couldn't they have just stayed out there? (Answer, no, otherwise they couldn't sell as much stuff.) Everyone was dressed in theme. The one assigned to our territory was Robert. I have to give him credit for his act. He was loud, but he tried to be loud in an approachable way.

"I'VE GOT [INSERT NAME OF TOY HERE] ! IF YOU'D LIKE ONE, JUST SAY - HEY ROBERT - AND I'LL COME ON BY!"

After delivering his line I caught him readjusting his (pardon my language but there really is no better of way saying it) shit-eating grin. He was really sucking up to the crowd. How does he sleep at night?

Did I mention that a box of popcorn cost $5.00? And that cotton candy (what is that, sugar, colouring?) was $8.00?

They were also selling this light toy. I don't know how it related to any of the Disney shows we were supposed to be watching, for I am fairly certain that neither the Lion King, Tarzan nor Mowgli had any electric appliances among them.

I know why they do it, it's so kids can have something to wave around in the dark.

When I was a kid my parents brought me to see the Ice Capades. I don't remember much from the show other than the fact that they bought me this special flashlight. They had them in blue and red. I picked red. It was a regular flashlight except that there was a reflector inside that turned when you waved it around, sort of like a lighthouse. When the lights went off everyone spun theirs around. It was thrilling, these little blue and red connections, pinpoints of light in a wide dark space.

I guess this was the modern equivalent. I could practically see the marketing managers colluding at the Trinkets and Trash meeting. On the agenda, how can we sell a flashlight-like toy and relate it to a jungle theme? Answer: stick a brown plastic handle on the end and make it look like wood. There was one big difference between this version and the one from my own childhood - this one was totally motorized. All the kid had to do was stick his hand in the air, press a button and it would go.

I could continue my train of thought about how Western society is raising a generation of lazy children who are too used to getting instant gratification with the click of a button, but I am getting way off my point here.

The show itself was awful. The only stage presentation that was this bad was when we went to see the poor-cousin-knock-off of the Lord of the Dance at the NAC. We left at intermission, stunned into silence by the idiocy of it.

Except for the costumes and the ice this was no different.

It started with two "hosts," one male and one female, who were dressed as jungle guides. They were there to spark enthusiasm in a bored crowd. They tried their darndest to get people to yell and clap.

"I can't heeeeeeear yoooooou! Now give me a Great - Big - TAAAAARZAAAAN yell!"

The costumes were terrible. Lopsided elephants with blank eyes, patchy apes (I was not kidding when I referred to them previously as a musical nightmare-inducing rendition of Planet of the Apes) and other things that were just plain weird.

If you're familiar with Disney's version of the Jungle Book, you know the character of Mowgli. He looks like this. Now imagine his role being played by an average-sized Asian man. A grown man, naked but for a pair of small red shorts.

His mannerisms were super exaggerated, the kind that are taught in Acting for Children's Theatre 101. I can't think of an example, and it's hard to describe it in words, it's just that there is a terrible amount of limb-swinging and facial contortion that happens as lines are spoken.

You? He points with a hyper-extended arm, his eyes wide and mouth in a big O. I would love to stay with you in the jungle! He hugs himself with one wild sweep of the arms, folding downward at the waist and moving from side to side as if to show how hard he's hugging himself,

And I couldn't get over the fact that he looked extremely gay. Was it his posture? His grin? The way he hugged Baloo the bear? I can't exactly pinpoint what it was. Not that it really matters, but it made it all the more comical. Could a Mowgli character be a gay man's fantasy?

My mind was wandering. I wished I had my notebook with me because I was making so many astute observations.

I tried not to watch, but every once in awhile my eyes shot back to the scene at hand. It was like when you slow down to see a car accident. You know you shouldn't but you just can't help looking. But there he was, in the snake's coils, dancing with the vultures, hugging the air.

Here is the best picture of him that I could get.

Intermission couldn't come soon enough. Sarah was squirmy. I tried to convince Mark to leave, but he didn't take me up on it. The girls wouldn't know the difference anyway, I argued. We stayed, Sarah got more impatient, crawling all over me and then goofing around on the floor. Then I realized why. I caught a whiff...

So off to the ladies room, toddler in tow. Thankfully there was no one around. This was a difficult maneuver. I put Sarah up on to one of those baby change things. It sunk underneath her weight. I jammed my leg underneath it for fear of collapse. I wrangled a diaper out of my purse as well as some antibacterial wipes (is it OK to use those on a bum?) and managed to remove the dirty one and replace it with a clean one, but not before Sarah dropped her socked foot into the dirty one. I wiped her sock with a wipe. I don't carry extra socks around anymore. I had no choice.

Question: why on earth are there never garbage cans directly next to those change stations? Why must I be forced to put a wrapped dirty diaper on the floor next to me while I finish up? I am always tempted to give it my best shot and pitch it into the nearest one, but I think this would be frowned upon. :)

Anyway, we got cleaned up and went slowly back into the show.

It wasn't too long after that the show ended.

The girls fell asleep in the car. We carried them in and dropped them in their beds.

As much as I disliked the show, you know, they liked it. But I think they liked the experience more than anything. That being said, we're never going again.

I think Emma is noticing my age. Tonight as I was putting to bed she took a close look at my face.

"Look," she said. "You have lines on your head."

I was furrowing my brow, trying to make her laugh with a funny face. She pointed to my forehead, "it looks like stairs." I asked her to make the same face, so I could see if she had stairs. She doesn't have a single one.

andrea