For Halloween, this year, I visited the Dilfy Resort in Anaheim, mostly to see the Halloween attractions at Dilfyland, like this big Mick O'Lantern on Main Street.
What? "Disneyland"? Well yes; that's what I used to call it, but I have changed its name to Dilfyland. Why? Because the place was full of prize DILFs. What is a DILF? Well, the first letter stands for "Dads". Yes, a DILF is a "Dad I'd Like to Fool-around-with-naked."
Along with DILFs, there was also a lot of MODs. Those are Morbidly Obese Dads. The MODs were almost always accompanied by moms who were MOMs. How these paired porkers ever managed to get their genitalia close enough to each other to spawn their hoards of MOKs is a mystery to me, but I'll bet it always occurred in extremely dark rooms.
The guests at the Dilfy Resort were almost too polite! I was in the parks for 12 hours, and not once did anyone ask me for an autograph! True, I was "incognito," but that just meant I didn't have Little Dougie walking ahead of me shouting "Make way for Miss Tallulah Morehead, the Nearly-Living Legend" through a bullhorn. (The security people confiscated the bullhorn at the park entrance. Some excuse about "noise pollution," whatever that means.) Oh, I got recognized once, but somehow a man saying "Wow! You stink worse than your films!" isn't what I had in mine. How can I announce in a lordly manner "No autographs today! I'm just a touristy nonentity like all you nobodies." if no one asks for one?
For "Trick or Treat," they played quite a good trick on everyone. Although Dilfyland stayed open until midnight, with the big shows, Mickey's Sky Farts, and in Frontierland, out on the river, the extravaganza called Orgasmic, all in the night time, the park next door, California Dilf Adventure, closed at 6 PM, so everyone who was in that park came over into Dilfyland to see Orgasmic and watch Mickey light his farts. Suddenly it was so crowded, you could barely stagger around the park. I didn't mind getting pressed up against the DILFs, but getting pressed into the MODs was no fun at all, and impossible to avoid.
California Dilf Adventure's primary function is to give you a place to get away from the crowds. They have shorter lines than EuroDisney! That's not to say that there's nothing any fun there. I enjoyed Soarin', and I loved riding California Screamin', which the ride operator ever-so-kindly allowed me to ride without using the dress-crushing safety restraints. After all, restraint is not something I have ever been known for, either in life or on screen.
And as for scary Halloween decor, the big Ferris wheel, Mickey's Fun Wheel, had had attached to it the terrifying visage of The Giant Rat of Sumatra, the biggest and most-vicious rodent in the world!
So all told, if cruisin' DILFs is your idea of a good time, Dilfyland is the place to go. As I said to one very hot DILF, when he asked me if I'd like to ride Splash Mountain: "If you'll do the mountin', I'll do the ridin', and we can both splash out!" His rather odd reply was; "Security!!!"
How can it be "The Happiest Place on Earth" if I can't get a drink or a tumble from a hot DILF?
Speaking of which, from my last visit, here I am in The Tragic Kingdom with the hottest DILF on earth, whose son is wisely showing fear of The Giant Rat of Sumatra.
Just a quick reminder. I am sill flogging Survivor: Samoa over on The Huffington Post. Here's a photo of me over on Samoa. Allow me to correct a silly misinterpretation of this picture. Several people have thought that in this picture, Rocket Scientist John, and my Future Ex-Husband Jaison are fleeing from me as fast as they can. Such nonsense. I'd mentioned that my cocktail was nearly finished, and they are racing each other to get me a fresh vodka martini. Such sweet boys.
Anyway, my latest posting there is titled Here's to the Pirates Who Lunch. Read and enjoy.