Epic Mickey has nothing on me

Hello faithful blog-followers!  I’ve gotten enough texts, emails, and messages telling me I need to get off my lazy butt and do a new post, so your requests will not go ignored.  Plus I got an email telling me my domain name is about to expire, and in order to justify renewing it I figured I should probably…oh I don’t know….update my freaking blog.

So what’s new with me you might ask?  I’m living in my new condo, after one horrifying episode with a leaky roof (which caused a hyperventilating Brenda.)  Christmas and New Years have come and gone, with the expected damage to my wallet and liver.  I’ve found SEVERAL grey hairs on my head, in the very front by my bangs.  In reality nobody can probably see them, but in my mind I look like Rogue from the X-Men.  You might know her better as the now-blonde Sookie Stackhouse.

Behold, my future

Anyway, you might be asking what the eff this all has to do with the title of this post.  I’m getting there.

While wading through the influx of commercials during the holiday season, I was horrified to realize that not only was Disney trying to put out a fantastical game to replace my much-beloved “Kingdom Hearts,” but they were calling it EPIC MICKEY.   really?!?!

I am more than a little bit pissed at Disney for trying to reclaim this word as their own.  (I have dealt with the fact that the phrase “Epic Fail” is now very common, as it is generally reserved for failures of the greatest magnitude.)  But Mickey?  As in the cartoon mouse, Mickey?

My affection for this word began in college, when I realized I needed a word to describe when a night out on the town got completely, flat-out, ridiculous.  A group of my friends would describe their night as “O.C.” (as in out-of-control) but I found when I used this word I’d often get several people thinking I meant the crap-tastic TV show.  I settled on “Epic” and it never let me down.  Often people will ask me what really constitutes an epic night, and it truly is hard to describe.

An epic night starts at a particular bar/club/house/basement, but will inevitably end at a different location.  It will go into the wee small hours of the morning, though a walk of shame is optional.  It generally includes libations outside of the typical beer and wine.  (Not necessarily vodka, my latest one consisted of little more than watermelon-flavored Four Loko.)

At any rate, I have decided that along with my advanced age, I should choose a new word to go with describing a particularly debaucherous evening.  Upon much soul searching and internet-surfing, it became clear.  My new word will be LEGEN…..wait for it…..DARY!!

My hero, Barney Stinson, from whom the bros have learned so much, will be my spirit guide into the world of legendariousness.

And if you don’t watch How I Met Your Mother and do not appreciate the glory that is NPH…..well, friendship over.


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