This is awesome. It is frightening. It is hilarious. But the comments on the YouTube page are the best of all: not only are her fellow pony collectors cheering her on for being “an individual” just like them, they’re trashing and multi-downvoting everyone who doesn’t believe exactly as they do. Fandom at its best, for sure.
I’ve got no particular issue with The Pony Lady here, except that the He-Man costume really isn’t doing her any favours, and she makes the word “pony” sound absolutely filthy when she says it; it’s the vicious, defensive, groupthinking, happyclownfaced community that I have a problem with. Hey, maybe they’ll comment!
Stolen from Bridlepath.
22 Comments
She can too dress like a pony if she wanted to!!
(what’s the emoticon for an evil grin??)
No man is going to marry that girl.
That was very enjoyable. (The sniffing bit made me snicker.) Plus I hadn’t realized that there was a rabid pony fandom out there.
Someone gave our daughter a pink pony that we have dubbed Princess Sparklepony. We are still working on how best to get her to appreciate this toy (and its name) ironically. (Okay, actually, lately we’ve hidden it from her.)
I know someone online who uses the nom de blog of “Princess Sparklepony” so ye should not take this name in vain.
Also: I have met The Pony Lady online as well, and she’s quite sane. Enthusiastic, yes, but quite sane.
Sane does not really matter to men. Men marry crazy girls all the time. They kind of like them. The visualization on walking into her apartment, though, of spending the rest of his life stuffed into a matrix of 5,436,243 My Little Ponies dolls does.
Oops,I got cut off before the most important word : not.
I hear ya. Romanians…do you know any Romanians? I do, and they’re the sexiest, prettiest, craziest group of people I ever met, and the fact that they are, to a man/woman, batshit insane, has never negatively impacted their popularity one jot.
Hey! My grandparents are Romanian!
[Just kidding, they are Czecks, totally different.]
TOAtally different (in case anyone is watching). Seriously, if you have not met Romanians you do not know insanity.
Oh in my family the saying goes, If you have not met my mother you do not know insanity. But we have issues.
I would like to meet your mother.
Oh no. Rain. You really wouldn’t. She is brilliant. Diabolical. Bat shit crazy. And psycho mean. Even if it was only out of clinical curiosity you would be destroyed going in. Every one of her shrinks was. And some of them were kind of smart.
But…but…that totally sounds like my biography. I HAVE to meet your mother!
Rain, even I do not speak to my mother. None of her three children do. And I was the last one to ever try.
If it is really important to you though, it can probably be arranged, you just have to sign this waiver that says if she digs out your heart using a blunt instrument and sacrifices it to Aztec Gods during an overzealous past life experience or something you will hold us harmless. Also, you have to put a cash deposit down for the cleaning service, blood and soot really do not lift out of grout or dry wall easily.
hey if you haven’t spoken to your mother in a while, are you sure she’s still in the same country as you?
because we have this really weird patient at the gimcrack…..
this something made me laugh for at least 15 minutes .
I like how she snuck in the Excalibur imagery at the end. Now I’ll be thinking of how Arthur received the sword from the lady of the compact car . . .
Myra you crack me up.
If she’s in Myra’s hands she will at least be good blog fodder.
And please! Like no-one’s ever tried to cut out my heart with a blunt instrument and sacrifice me to Aztec gods before!
That reminds me … you really must come to our house soon. Preferably before the next full moon.
Inserts surreptitious hypnotic hypertext. Now you cannot resist my call–come to me, Raincoaster!
Within 48 hours she will be in my clutches.
I had a very scary dream about a sparkley little pony doll last night and I know who to blame.
All of us.
Metro: you silver-tongued devil, you’ve won me over. Meet me at noon Wednesday, our usual spot.