I have a totally weird thing for the Hundred Acre Wood.
I know, I seem like I’m all mean and hard-core and I’d kick puppies (no, wait, rewind, I would NEVER kick a puppy. I really, really like animals. I might kick a toddler if it got too close, though, I’m not going to lie) but I totally am a complete puffball when it comes to Winnie the Pooh and his friends.
Mostly I like the original text (you are all aware that 99.99999% of the time, the original text is ALWAYS better than a Disney-fied version, or an adaptation, right? Right. Good) but I’ll watch the Disney versions, too. I’m not picky when it comes to these animals.
As far as I can figure, it’s because somehow, because I’m totally undiagnosed bipolar, I am a total 50/50 mix of two of the characters? But maybe I just like stuffed animals that can talk and get into comical situations, I don’t know.
ALSO, that Kenny Loggins “House at Pooh Corner” song IS THE SADDEST. Here. Don’t even watch it if you’re already sad because then you will be SO DEPRESSED YO.
Let’s discuss some of the things that are going on over there, shall we?
OK, so apparently, all of the goings-on in the Hundred Acre Wood are all figments of Christopher Robin’s imagination. Some people online are all “CHRISTOPHER ROBIN IS SCHIZOPHRENIC YO.” What? No he is NOT. Christopher Robin is a completely normal kid who is PLAYING with TOYS. Who didn’t make up little scenarios for their animals when they were kids? Well, kids who were raised by wolves, I suppose, but normal kids do this ALL THE TIME. It is COMPLETELY FINE. I had little stories and romantic lives and fights and all the dramas with my stuffed animals. And now I’m…well, kind of a looney but I TOTALLY MEAN WELL. NO, SERIOUSLY, I DO.
Piglet is worrisome. I’m not going to lie. Piglet is so nervous that it makes ME nervous. Piglet reminds me of those people who always need reassurance because they lack all the self-confidence, and that makes you SO EXHAUSTED because you’re always having to be all “It will BE OK, Piglet. NOTHING BAD will happen. IT IS ALRIGHT.” And he gets so nervous, he stutters. PIGLET! STOP IT. All is WELL. Calm DOWN. Also, Piglet doesn’t look like a pig. Piglet looks like…I don’t even know. What DOES Piglet look like? Not a pig. A kid, actually, with big ears. Piglet looks like a kid. Not a pig. BABE looks like a pig. Aw, I love Babe. Babe is my favorite. If you can watch that scene with the farmer dancing without crying, seriously, did you lose your soul in a wager with the Devil? Because I think you might have.
I don’t care about Owl. He’s smart. Whatever. He’s kind of peripheral. Although I totally dig his treehouse and want one. It was so wee! And everything had its place! I hate clutter. I like when things are all tucked away nicely. I think I might have OCD or something.
Kanga and Roo are fine with me, too. Although don’t you think Kanga was totally probably all, “I AM SO TIRED OF ALL THIS TESTOSTERONE ALL UP IN HERE” because she was the ONLY WOMAN THERE. Also, where is Roo’s dad? There’s no Mr. Kanga. This is VERY MYSTERIOUS. Did he leave in the middle of the night all secret-like? Did they all Orient-Express murder him? MR. KANGA. I AM WORRIED ABOUT YOU.
I refuse to talk about Gopher or because he is a DISNEY addition and not real. He doesn’t exist. HE IS DEAD TO ME. Although I will say that Gopher’s speech impediment makes me laugh, and I sometimes use it to annoy people. What? ME? ANNOY PEOPLE? I know, right? Totally out of the realm of possibility.
I also know NOTHING about Heffalumps or Woozles, but people seem to love them and they WERE (this is being amended RIGHT NOW I AM SO SORRY THE INTERWEBS LED ME ASTRAY) in the original texts, just not illustrated. So, I’m cool with the Heffalumps and Woozles. I just have no opinion on them. SORRY HEFFALUMPS AND WOOZLES.
Rabbit is a bossy dictator asshole and I don’t know why anyone hangs out with him. What’s going on there, exactly?
Ok. Winnie the Pooh. Now listen, I love Pooh. Don’t even get me wrong, Pooh is great! But Pooh is also kind of a ball of trouble. First? He totally needs to be in OA. He can NOT control himself around food. All food, but honey in particular. To the point where he STEALS FOOD FROM OTHERS gets STUCK in a WALL and has to STARVE HIMSELF to get OUT. Also, he isn’t…um…how to put this nicely…very smart? Which he’s kind of the first to admit. He even SAYS he’s a “bear of little brain.” Which is kind of sad! I mean, if you’re SAYING that about yourself, that’s totally sad. Aw. Pooh! It’s ok.
(Side note, a boy I was totally head-0ver-heels for in college decided it would be a good idea to give me the nickname Pooh. That’s ridiculously stupid on a variety of levels. And whenever he tried to use it I gave him a total bitchface. But MAN could that boy write poetry. So I forgave him, well, just about anything, really.)
Now, let’s get to the heart of the matter, shall we? The two characters that make me love Winnie the Pooh the most and are totally the two halves of me because I’m probably bipolar or something on top of all of the other things that I’m undiagnosed as.
Man, do I love me some Eeyore.
YES! Eeyore is depressed. Like, CLINICALLY depressed. Eeyore lives in the swamp or some such nonsense and they always go out of their way to visit Eeyore and he doesn’t seem to want them there and he shoots out such bon mots as “Somebody must have taken it, how like them” and “Good morning, Pooh Bear, if it is a good morning, which I doubt, we can’t all, and some of us don’t. That’s all there is to it. Gaiety. Song-and-dance. Here we go round the mulberry bush.”
I AM TOTALLY EEYORE SOMETIMES.
I don’t like people to come into my swamp, and I totally don’t go round the mulberry bush. I GET THAT. I have my Eeyore days. I want to hide under my bed and grump around and give all the dirty looks and mope until my moper’s broken.
Tigger is ALSO the best. Because Tigger is SO EXCITED YOU GUYS. Tigger totally has ADHD. Tigger bounces all over and gets into scrapes because he can’t control his total unbridled enthusiasm for life and then feels REALLY BADLY he screwed up so bad, but you can’t really hate Tigger! Because Tigger DID NOT MEAN TO BE AN ASSHOLE. Tigger IS JUST SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU. Also, his theme song (this is Disney-fied, so please forgive me the indulgence) includes the quote “the most wonderful thing about Tiggers is I’m the only one.” YES. That’s wonderful for EVERYONE. The world could not HOLD more than one Tigger. Tiggers have HUGE PERSONALITIES.
I am, on my non-Eeyore days, often having a Tigger day.
I am ALSO totally excited to see you. I am VERY EXCITED. I love TASKS and PROJECTS and I LOVE TO HELP. I like to MEDDLE. I am VERY ENTHUSIASTIC.
And it’s totally an asshole thing to be sometimes! And also SCARY! Because Tigger often comes with CRAZY-PERSON EYES! I get that. I totally, totally get that! But it comes from a place of all the love, seriously. Because I have ALL THE TIGGER-LIKE ENTHUSIASM. And I want to SHARE IT WITH YOU. BECAUSE I LIKE YOU SO MUCH. It might be a little annoying, but it really is totally a compliment. I don’t really like many people, so if I turn the tractor beam of Tigger onto you, I really, REALLY like you. And I’m totally selective. Even if you’d rather I dialed it back a notch. SORRY I HAVE NO NOTCHES. I go to ELEVEN. ALL THE TIME.
Once time, I was madly in love with this guy? And I was completely being Tigger, because, well, romance has the tendency to turn anyone into a Tigger, let’s be frank, and I was telling him something, and a mutual friend was there, and Guy I Was in Love With Who Ended Up Marrying Someone Who Was Not Me said to mutual friend, “Isn’t she the best? I mean, look at those eyes! No one’s ever been so enthusiastic about anything in their LIVES.”
Yep. Because, TIGGER. I’m telling you.
Lately, there have been a lot more Tigger-days than Eeyore-days. Which is nice! I like Tigger-days more than Eeyore-days.
So I might totally have all the Winnie the Pooh related paraphernalia in my home? I know. It kind of makes me look like a crazy person, or like I’m baby-crazy, or something. No, no. Mostly it’s all Tigger or Eeyore-related, honestly. I promise my biological clock has not started ticking. I’d still kick a toddler. Sorry, toddlers. (Not really, toddlers.) Also, if I Tigger-pounce you? It’s a compliment. I promise. Don’t be afraid, little ones. I only body-check into submission the people I like. You have been CHOSEN TO BE LOVED. Are you not the luckiest? Y0u totally are.