We'll get to the funny part in a minute. I'm too freaked out (and yes, a little bit scared) right now to focus on anything other than the fact that you actually brought your wife, your partner in life, your helpmate, the woman who was carrying your unborn child, a stinkin' Saliva Whip.
A SALIVA WHIP!!
A half eaten Saliva Whip at that. And if that weren't shocking enough, you actually seemed surprised that she didn't want it.
No wonder she didn't like it! She got the one with all the juice. And I ain't talkin' pineapple juice either. Buddy. I honestly never pictured you as a Whip Licker, ZZUB. A Lip Licker, maybe. But only when you're waiting in the drive thru line at Arby's. Or Blimpie.
From now on, your name is synonymous with a ginger laden Number Four, the word "fartmunch", and someone else's tongue marks on your Dole Whip. I would say more on the subject but I might just vomit. So I'll move on. Dot org.
And as much as I love Cosmic Rays, I had no intention of schlepping (yes, schlepping) back across the MK to eat there. This was our night on the other side of the park. So we settled for Pecos Bills. Primarily because of the fixins bar. And because it was there. You understand this is how Gerald Ford became president, right?
This is a perfect example of the whole funny yet scary thing. First of all, you realize this is exactly what we did. For the exact same reason. Let the freaky borgness sink in for a second or two. That's the scary part. Secondly, the Gerald Ford comment was pretty funny. Not Jimmy Carter comment funny, but still. Funny.
FYI: they no longer have melted cheese on the Pecos Bills fixins bar. Which now renders it useless. Like Jimmy Carter.
DED. Completely DED.
The real kick in the face about Pecos Bills’ menu is the lousy dessert option. Not plural, not options. Option. One option. One lousy option. It was some sort of chocolate “cake” with peanut butterish icing. Or some such crap.
What the heck is that thing anyway? Is it cake or is it a brownie? We didn't take the time to find out. I took one look at mine and chunked it over my right shoulder. Never to be seen again.
The leg dangling pirate is not Ron by the way.
Maybe it's John Bal John.
I looked around and spotted a little shack from which they hawk DVC. Because Disney’s Best Kept Secret™ fits so well with the American frontier theme of Frontierland. You understand lots of pioneers headed west in search of fractional ownership opportunities in vacation property. The Oregon Trail was blazed by Lewis and Clark seeking to own a piece of the magic. Yes, it's true, the frontier was tamed by men desperate to be welcomed home.
So I abandoned my family like Joey Buttafucco and headed off to fetch me one of those Dole Whips I’ve read so much about.
For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why they called that a Dole Whip. Dole sells pineapple. Not oranges. But since Disney calls Stich’s Escape a “Fastpass,” and calls a bus a “motorcoach,” and calls the AllStars a “Resort,” and calls the Tomorrowland Noodle Terrace a "Buffet" during Free Dining, I figured they would also call an orange drink a Dole Whip.
All of this was freakin' hilarious to me. Very funny stuff, ZZUB.
The whole “I’m gonna get a Dole Whip” thing is a product of too many hours spent reading the Disboards. I know LaLa has written about her quest for a Dole Whip as well. Which really makes her life look kind of pathetic, don’t you think? By comparison, I wasn’t really in search of a Dole Whip as much as I was fixin to watch a parade and wanting a cool treat. Finding no DQ nearby, a much ballyhooed Dole Whip seemed intriguing.
Seems to me you're trying to justify your reasons for wanting a Dole Whip here. Let go, ZZUB. It's OKAY to want a Dole Whip. It's OKAY to write about wanting a Dole Whip. Even if it
does make you look just as pathetic as, if not more than, me. Actually, you do come off slightly more pathetic than me. Because you had to be corrected on the proper usage of the word fixin'. And also for other reasons.
Shoes. Not flippies. I’m not stupid.
No, but apparently you're a slightly rude Southern woman. According to UKWildcat. DED, by the way.
For my part, I thought it was pretty freaking good. I scarfed mine down and then finished off hers. Then I turned and snuck a lick off the Whip of the lady standing next to me.
But only to keep it from melting.
And
this is why we keep coming back. This was hilarious yet slightly disgusting. Which pretty much sums up your trip report. Or does it? Honestly, ZZUB. This one had some huge funny in it. I loved it. Good job, my friend. And I'm glad you got your Dole Whip. Freaky first Dole Whip borg. They DO rock, don't they?
Kinda like your trip report.
I'm still disgusted by the whole Saliva Whip thing though. You're dangerously close to Ignore for that. Hopefully the nausea will have passed by lunchtime tomorrow. Cause it's Blimpie's turn in the lunchtime rotation.
