The Day After

So the presents have been opened, the egg nog has been drunk, "A Christmas Story" has been watched (for 24 straight hours, thank you TBS), and we're left nursing our hangovers, whether cocktail or carbohydrate induced, in a wrapping-paper filled disaster area where the living room once was. Well that's what we're doing at any rate. Of course directly outside my living room window I can see the festively fit folks going in and out of the gym. Assholes. No, seriously, the door is right in my line of sight at this very moment, taunting me with the cookies, chocolates, and cartons of Chinese food the gym seems to know I've just consumed. Alas, Christmas is a time for elastic waistbands if ever there was one. I guess if you're celebrating the blue and silver version of the holiday season, you're just beginning the festivities, so good luck with the overconsumption and look into getting some sweatpants for the long haul.

Now this year was a bit different for me. Sweetpotato and I spent our first Christmas together and not at our homes, hence the Chinese food on Christmas day. Before you start feelin'' all sad for me, it was a lovely, simple day to rest up before the invasion begins. Yes folks, the Royal Family descends upon us this very evening,that is: the Queen Mum, the King Consort, The Perfect Little Princess, and both the Princes of Darkness. I'm often asked how I came to be the Queenan we all know and love from such a lineage...Queenan was born out of necessity and self-preservation. God love 'em, they are a special bunch. So anyway, it was decided that rather than have us go visit them, they would spend the week touring New York City, which is of course, what every New Yorker wants to do on their vacation. There will be no Statue of Liberty, I have put my foot down, for it is one thing to run all over the island taking in the Christmas decorations, but it is entirely another to board a ferry in the freezing drizzle to stare a piece of oxidized bronze you can see better in your 4th grade text book. Oh, stop, I'm not poo-pooing a national monument, I'm just saying I don't need to ride out to see it in December!

Now I'm sharing all this with you because I may not be able to write that often this week, seeing as how I'll be spending my waking hours trying to coax my father on to a subway, and I don't want ya'll to worry. I will, however, update you as often as possible, provided all the family time hasn't turned my brain to complete mush.

Enjoy your week folks, and if you have a sec, say a little prayer for your pal Q.

It's over!

PRAISE THE LORD....the strike is OVER!!! And just in time, my poor hips were just about give out on me during the trek home last night. And I know I shouldn't be complaining, considering there were folks walking 3 hours across the Brooklyn Bridge, but whatever, I have skeletal issues...my father would call it Wuss-itis, isn't he the sweetest. But thankfully I will not have to open Christmas presents with an ice pack on my back this year. Yes this morning the Subway was back to normal - slow, crowded, smelly, and totally wonderful! I have never been so happy to ride alongside the crazy folk! And in Grand Central, sounds of the station performers echoed down the tiled corridors once again. I tell you there's something about a black man in a cowboy hat playing the banjo. I always wonder if I like him so much because he reminds me of my Southern roots, or if it's just the idea that "one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't fit." Regardless, the guy plays a damn good slide guitar!

So come on in, Manhattan's fine!

Strike!

Okay so any of ya'll that watch the news know that the MTA has gone on strike, which means no subways, no buses, basically no way to get to work. Oh wait, except on foot. Now I do have it relatively easy, one of the benefits of living on the island is that you can always make it to the office....oh joy. What I don't understand are these crazy folks waiting in line for hours just to buy a train ticket, to then wait hours more to arrive in Manhattan, only to have to turn around and do it all again fours hours later in the dark. Ya'll know if I lived in the boroughs my ass would have been on the phone first thing talkin' about "I won't be in today." Click.

And God bless New Yorkers, they really have been on their behavior. They just put on their heavy coats and marched right down the street. But let me tell you something about the 2 1/2 miles from my apartment to my office, they are not cute in 23 degree weather. At this point I could care less who wins this battle, ya'll know I try to remain A-political because really I can't be bothered. However, at this juncture I think something needs to be done. Not for the union, not for the MTA, but for the 8 million folks freezing their asses off waiting for commuter vans that never come. Give them the raise or not, it's all Monopoly money at this point anyway, kinda like that national deficit, it's not getting paid back so let's stop keeping track!

Day 1 was an adventure - see how tough we are!
Day 2 is just...dumb.

Oh well, at any rate, it will make a good "we had walk to school uphill both ways" story, right?

Holiday Hangover

Now ya'll know I love Christmas and all, but praise the lord it only comes once a year. It's not the expense of gifts or even all the family time that I can't handle, it's the damn holiday parties with all their damn alcohol that I can't seem to stomach. Realizing that this information may confuse you, as you know me to be quite fond of the drink, let me explain. You see, I am in favor of cocktails for all occasions really, it's just the feelings they leave you with the next morning that I can do without. Today, for instance, I am attempting to remain upright at my desk while my eyes glaze in and out of focus and the band plays on in my head. The worst part is knowing that even when I return to feeling more like a human and less like a pile of crap, I will be forced to recall the events from last evening which I believe involved Karaoke (for my feelings on the subject please refer to a previous entry of the same name.) Somewhere along the way I lost my keys and I think my sweater, which is really a shame, and while I recall rather lengthy conversations with quite a few folks, I have little recollection as to the nature of the discussions, which is just never a good thing.

Alas, it is the holiday season and parties abound. So I guess the options are stay home or stay sober, both of which seem particularly appealing at this moment, but like all good intentions, probably won't make it through the whole day.

New Stuff

I right now ya'll, in the name of shamless self-promotion, today's blog is dedicated to my website. Now I know you mostly just check the blog, read the rant, and go on with your day. But not today! Today I need you to visit DearQueenan.com and enjoy two brand new features!

Due to popular demand, I am offering a section of Holiday Recipes, filled with all the creamy calories I remeber so fondly fron my youth. I tell you, these treats are sure to give you the warm and fuzzies, and not just because the beverages are loaded with alcohol;-)

For those of you who are either too lazy to visit every day or needed more indepth doses of Her Highness, I am now offering a subscription service. Just think, once a week you can have your very own personal email from Dear Queenan pop right in your Inbox! Diversions and Diatribes are the tales of triumph and tragedy Her Majesty faces, or really whatever nonesense she needs to share.

Visit DearQueenan.com today and spread the word...we're going national exposure here folks, so just keep forwarding on!!

The Real World?

Oh for the love of God! Ya'll know I can't stand reality television, regardless of how many of those insipid programs I watch, but the worst by far has got to be the Real World/Road Rules Challenge shows on MTV. Now look, The Real World was cute and innovative 15 years ago and, despite the fact that it spawned the real-life vulgarity seen today, I do have a fondness for some of the early cast members. The Road Rules, on the other hand, I have no time for...who the hell wants to roam around the country in an RV with 6 other grown folks? I have done my time in a trailer, thank you very much.

But they couldn't just soak up their 15 minutes of fame and let it be, could they? Heavens no! Thankfully they now have the opportunity to return to the little screen to roll around in the mud and throw each other off trampolines and all other manner of nonsense. Ya'll need to GET A JOB! I don't know what you do between filming gladiator episodes, but you can't possibly have any sort of successful career if you're able to take off month-long stretches to live on a beach and play capture the flag. And it's really not so bad if you've recently graduated, but some of these folks have been filming these ridiculous reunion shows for the past ten years. I mean they've gotta be goin' on 40 years old, and are still willing to get on national television and make an ass of themselves in front of God and everyone. It is trashy for a 22-year-old to get into a drunken cat fight, but a 38-year-old trying to claw another bitch's eyes out...well, there are no words.

All I'm saying is, if you need attention so badly that you are willing to have a camera crew follow you into the bathroom every morning, then fine, satisfy your low self-esteem with a short stint on reality television. But if once isn't enough for you, I suggest you look into some professional help immediately!.

Spelling Bee

Okay, now look. I have many gifts, which I will not take the time to enumerate here but sufficed to say I do not consider myself untalented in the least. However, I will not claim to be more than proficient in certain skills, spelling being one of them.

Now I understand that ya'll are all trying to help me, and aren't even being spiteful the least little bit (except for a certain law student who shall remain nameless), but really you needn't point out my misspellings on a regular basis. It's not that I'm a total idiot, it's that I simply can't be bothered. I spell phonetically, always have. And by the way, who the hell thought that phonetics should have a 'ph' ? It's not like ya'll don't know what I mean. If something looks odd to you then SOUND IT OUT. Worked for you in kindergarten, will work for you today.

If my lack of spelling acumen really bothers you that much, then I guess you'll have to stop reading, which would really be a shame now wouldn't it? But if you're not willing to give up my spiteful stories and ridiculous rhetoric, you're gonna have to deal with a few misspellings. And that's all I have to say about that!

Snow Day!

Finally, we're covered in a blanket of fluffy, white snow!! I awoke this morning to giant flakes blowing past my window and a very excited Sweetpotato stuffing the dog into a snow jacket. New York really is beautiful in the snow, as you can see. (Sweetpotato took this shot for me, isn't he just the most precious thing ever;-)
Outside was still relatively undisturbed and for a moment, my crowded, taxi-covered world was peaceful and calm.

But only for a moment.

You know, where I come from, just an inch of snow is a viable, nay, super legitament reason to close EVERYTHING. I mean, it would flurry and parents would rush to get their kids from school, lest a flake turn to ice!

But not up here, no, it's business as usual. And Midtown is not nearly the pretty snow-blanketed scene of my waking. Oh hell no, it's a gray slugdy version, where puddles cover every curb and each step sinks your already disgusting boots into 6 inches of melted mush. Sidewalks are dangerously slick after hundreds of shoes have stomped down the snow as people force themselves out of bed and into the cold, gray day.

Now, I don't see any reason in the world that I should have to venture out in this, I mean I could get sick or slip and fall, and then who would answer your phones. To be sure there's no copier crisis in the world worth the risk of pneumonia! I think it's reckless endangerment to require attendance in inclement weather.

Now here I sit, wasting perfectly good snowman-building hours making sure the fax machine doesn't fritz and the water cooler maintains acceptable levels. So much for snow days...slush is all I get!

Weather or Not

Sweetpotato, this one's for you....


I should have been a meteorologist. This is apparently the only field of study in which it is acceptable for scientific data to be collected, reported, and... completely wrong! Had I known this I would have taken more classes related to weather in college, how can you fail a test where every answer is someone's best guess?

Take today for example, here we are all prepared for a snow storm, only to awaken to wet yet completely barren sidewalks! Not that I wanted to go trudging about in the sludge, but it would have been a great deal of fun to toss my mongrel into the powdery stuff and watch her flounder about (I am such a good mother.) Furthermore, the cold is only useful for providing a festive atmosphere for the holiday season, but frostbite without a Winter Wonderland....I don't think so.

And I know they can't control the atmospheric pressure, or whatever the hell it is, all I'm saying is don't get our hopes up with these blizzard forecasts if you really have no idea what you're talking about. Seriously, these folks get paid to make stuff up and yet, there are television stations devoted to alerting the country to these pseudo-scientific interpretations of little green blobs on a computer screen. We'd do better to listen to our arthritic relatives, they seem to know when it's gonna rain before the Weather Channel does! What kind of lessons are these forecasters teaching our children - that it's okay to lie if you have a weather map behind you?

The best part is, when they're wrong, the meteorologists can just shun responsibility by virtue of atmospheric conditions beyond their control. Nice. Next time I screw up at work I'm gonna blame Mother Nature and see how far that gets me!

Did you see where Regis Philbin has a Christmas album?! For the love of all things good and melodic, what is going on. I had the misfortune of seeing him perform (using this term very losely) at the Rockefeller Tree Lighting and it was more spoken word than actual singing. Not surprising about Regis, he's determined to spend the twilight of his career with his face plastered on everything that will hold still. How he became such a "personality" I just cannot understand. Why are people across America so commited to sharing their mornings with a face-lifted name-dropper who considers his tennis matches worthy of national mention. And now with the holiday album, I mean seriously; it took long enough to get Kathy Lee's cruise ship talent off the airwaves and now Regis is springing up to fill the void (as if there were one) in the medicore wedding singer talent arena.

My basic principle on performers is that just because you can stay is tune doesn't mean you need to cut an album. Karaoke was made for folks like you - any questions on that subject, please read on....

Karaoke

Ah, Karaoke, the favorite pastime of the drunk and misguided. Last night I subjected myself to some of the most excruciating and alternatingly hysterical hours of fun in the name of a birthday celebration. Now, ya'll know I moved to NYC to be on the Broad-way, so singing is something very close to my heart; however, being trapped in a small hot room listening to drunk people scream into a microphone until your ears bleed, is not exactly my cup of tea. I have always considered Karaoke to be singing for those who can't...and shouldn't. But give a person a few drinks and they feel it necessary to live out their Bon Jovi fantasies in front of God and everyone. And of course they can't select a mild, low-pitched song (though most Karaokiers think pitch is only something you do at a baseball game). No,no. They must select the loudest, most piercing power ballad ever written. Unless you are Pat Benatar, leave it "Alone"!!!! Oh, yes, and do not attempt anything made famous by Whitney Houston, Celine Dion or Barbara Streisand, lest you make a bigger ass of yourself than you're already gonna.

I suggest, for those of you with a modicum of self-respect or auditory awareness, that you select one song, preferably upbeat (because the only thing worse than a painful song is a slow painful song), learn all the words, and then try your very best not to have to sing unless threatened with bodily harm. Be very careful not to have more than a couple of these stand-by favorites, lest you look like one of those "professional" Karaoke folks who seriously seek to impress strangers with their U2 renditions...you MUST get some self-esteem folks!

Of course, when all else fails and you can't escape, turn to the waiter...the cocktail tray is your friend!