Friday, July 16, 2010

Dianne. And the Beinstalk. Part Two. Don't Miss It.

Please take note: This post is Part Two. Please read Part One first. Do not complain about this request, please. It's just the natural order of things.

So, Dianne straps on her sassy heels and decides it's time to tackle the Beinstalk.

Up, up, up she climbs.

Her own little world seems smaller and smaller. But she is brave. And sassy. And appropriately-outfitted for the grand adventure. And so she continues.

She finds her head in the clouds, which is a happy place to be, yes. But even a Trophy Wife who lives in a small castle, yes, needs more than just a head in the clouds.

She finds herself in a large, strange land. Alone, apparently, Very, very alone. And then she hears a voice. A great big, booming voice. It is bouncing around in her head, like a poorly hit golf ball, yes.

Fi, Fie, Fo, Fum
I smell the blood of a Trophy Woman
Be her hair blonde or her hair red
I'll make sure that her Blog is never read!

Dianne realizes she is in the presence of the Giantest Giant of all.

Note: No, not Al Gore.

She is in the presence of the big, nasty WOD. The Worldwide Ogre of Discouragement, whose primary purpose in its sad little life is to entangle those who dare enter the kingdom in a web of failure and hopelessness and apathy and irritation and isolation.

And now Dianne sees the WOD, face-to-face. Let the battle begin.

To be continued ...

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