Some of you (excluding Emily) may not know that I'm a costume character for work. On this hectic, fair-weathered day I'm dressed up as Sleeping Beauty. Well, "Sleepy Princess" if you want to get technical with the patents. On my way to _______'s seventh birthday party, I (Sleepy Princess) get pulled over by the dear old fuzz. Are you getting a decent visual now?
"Where're ya headed?"
"Work..."
Mr. Police procures a smirk. My mind's eye taunts me with visions of the Grinch. That part where he gets a wonderful, awful idea. Time code: 1:00 minute in. Check it.
"Where do you work?"
I proceed to explain why I am wearing a wig the opposite color of my eyebrows and license photo, a gold sequined crown, excessive pink blush, and an outright hideous carnation-pink dress that billows around my torso and the seat belt containing it.
And here I thought princesses transcended the force. Idiot me.
I somehow escaped with a fix-it ticket in place of a speeding ticket. Well, not 'somehow' really. If you were a cop, why in the name of xbox would you ever give a pathetic excuse for a princess a speeding ticket? Anyway, apparently you're not supposed to have tinted windows. APPARENTLY! And APPARENTLY, my registration is overdue. Trifles!
The party, if you wonder, consists of me painting princess crowns on many a cake-covered face, sculpting horses/ladybugs out of balloons (until someone wanted a ladybug riding a horse, which I end up making for the whole party. Who knew a ladybug could own a horse), painting a total of one hundred grungy little nails, and answering questions about my prince (he's at home.... studying..?) and other people in my life.
"Do you have parents?"
Yes I do!
"What're their names?"
...Mum & Dad.
"Do you have fairies?"
Yes.
"What're their names?"
Flora, Fauna, & Merriweather! (Thank you, inner Disney-freak).
On the way home, I was angry. When I'm angry I need food. When I need food, I can't wait. I can't even get out of my car. Hence, drive-through mexican is a godsend. He hands me my shrimp burrito, his eyes rest on my messy princess appearance for an ounce longer than is appropriate, and he says "Extra red sauce for you, sunshine."
I guess wearing pink once in a while does have its perks.
ps: You asked for a picture and this is the only one I have in that outfit. Apologies for the J-like-face on what appears to be a dark-skinned princess who dyed her hair blond.
7 comments:
That's funny, I had a similar job in high school. Worked for Cuddles the Clown Inc. as Spiderman, on most occasions. Other times I was Barney, generic Pirate Guy, and the Red Ranger. But mostly Spiderman, because I was the only male that worked at the agency. I guess the lack of tits and my groin bulge really make a difference to the kids. Most of the times I never actually spoke to the kids while in costume, but that's because on my first job I did, and it was a nightmare staying in character. What the fuck is with kids and their questions? The one time I was Barney, the costume was so huge, I had to hold my head up because of the brace inside the helmet, and it was a hot summer day so while inside the helmet I was sweating like a Somalian prostitute, and then the sweat started to drip down into my eyes so after a while I was also fucking blind.
I don't miss the job, really.
I think we need a picture.
[: ehhhh? whaddaya say???
as if the image of you in a pretty pink princess dress wasn't golden enough, the image of you getting pulled over by a cop in a pretty pink princess dress is just... i dunno... side-splitting? i agree with brian above - pictures are necessary.
this whole story reminds me of an fmylife story. or more of an f-wearing-pink.
you poor thing!
aahahahahahaha!!! yes!!
ah aha ahahaha. look at the girly girl in her precious pink dress. you should wear that to the shins concert. but where's the glittery eye shadown, princess? sorry, wearing boys shorts doesn't make up for that.
..course i kid. you're gettin paid. well done.
You look so cute!!! Hahaha, it sounds like a fun job. Minus the questions. I suck at knowing things... About anything, really.
Post a Comment